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The boy in my arms rocked, his frame somehow smaller and more vulnerable than in the light of day. I held him, offering my strength and support. Outward, I remained calm. Inside, I promised vindication.
His tormentor would suffer before I sent his soul to Lucifer in Hell.
Rev trembled, sweat clinging to his damp skin.
So cold. Evil was brittle, icy, painfully hard and unyielding, dark. The absence of warmth and light.
A frozen knife plunging through the heart.
I held Rev tighter, hoping my body heat seeped into his skin.
All those years ago, Thunder had been so hot, dreaming of a raging fire he couldn’t prevent in the future. Rev was chilled to the touch. Freezing. His fingers gripped my hand, cold as cubes of ice.
Terror. Thunder had felt it. Rev lived in it now.
“I won’t let go,” I swore thickly, my heart breaking for both young men and the horrors they experienced. “Breathe.”
Gina’s pain-filled voice whispered into the dark room. “My Rev.”
Her eyes held an anguish all too familiar. The same helplessness and agony I once saw in my mother’s brown eyes, the exact shade of my own. How many times did I witness her tears, unable to do a damn thing to prevent them?
The past happened long ago, and right now, there was a boy I could help. He deserved my concentration and compassion. I’d give him whatever he needed.
“Breathe,” I repeated.
Inhale . . . Exhale . . .
Another tremor shook his body as he cried, snot dripping from his nose. I didn’t care about that—only his suffering.
Pissed, I wanted to ask who had hurt him, who dared to violate a young four-year-old boy, but I never got the chance.
Rev whimpered, a single name falling from his lips. “Daddy,” he gasped, gulping air into his lungs. “Why?”
Gutted.
That was how I felt. Entirely and utterly destroyed by those words. How could a father do that to his son?
Memories of my stepfather and his harsh discipline surfaced. Some men weren’t meant to be fathers. Some flat-out didn’t deserve the honor. Others should have their fucking genitals ripped off for thinking of harming a child in such a perverse way.
I couldn’t prevent the tragedy I witnessed at ten or what happened to Rev when he was a small child. But I could bring vindication to his mother and his traumatized soul.
Gina wept into her hands. “Diablo. I tried so hard to help us all forget.”
Such chilling words.
A horrible truth.
“The only person at fault is Jack. You aren’t to blame.”
Whether Gina tried to stop it or not, the past affected the kids deeply and manifested in unintended ways. Olivia’s clumsiness and her extreme emotional reactions. Rev’s nightmares and the fear he hid behind a wall, showing only a mask of indifference. Sure, he smiled, but it never quite reached his eyes. I never understood why my Reaper felt such fury and protectiveness whenever Rev was nearby.
Now I knew.
His father had sexually abused him as a boy.
Seething with anger, I had to force myself to breathe along with Rev. My Reaper swore vengeance. We’d find Jack, and he’d suffer. That was a given.
There were a few unanswered questions, like which club Jack belonged to, where he lived, and what kind of shit his club dealt in. What mc allowed atrocities like these? My Reaper knew Rev wasn’t the only victim. He sensed more.
