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This was for his protection, I reminded myself. It wasn’t forever. It was better for him to endure ten minutes of crying than a lifetime under his father’s thumb. Without me.
Because that threat of Warren’s wasn’t hollow.
If he ever got close to me again, he would kill me. There wasn’t a single question in my mind.
The sin of taking his son from him was bad enough. But he might have let me live, just to torture me by taking Judah away from me.
But scratching him? Hitting him? Making him fall and get hurt?
That was unforgivable.
I wasn’t naive enough to believe it would be as ‘quick’ or ‘easy’ as strangulation, either. There would be torture first. Hours and hours or days and weeks of it.
Before he finally put me out of my misery.
Then took my son for himself.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I whispered as Judah’s cries got louder.
My lower lip wobbled and tears stung my eyes.
But then there were the sounds of footsteps again, making me yank the lid up in my hands, ready to swing, to bust someone’s head open, if necessary.
“Claire,” a familiar voice said before my mind could even focus on the face of a man who’d saved us more than once now. One who I knew would continue to do so.
The lid fell from my hands, cracking in half as it hit the floor.
But I wasn’t even paying attention.
I was turning to twist the doorknob, then throwing open the door.
I rushed into Aurelio’s bedroom, ripping open the closet door, flicking on the light, then running to the back corner.
My arms shot out, swiping the shoeboxes out of the way as the suits hanging overhead blocked my vision.
But I didn’t need to see.
I knew where the handle was.
And on the other side, my baby was screaming and pounding for help.
I yanked the door open, then pushed my hands inside, grabbing my baby, and pulling him out, crushing him to my chest as I fell on my ass on the closet floor, crying with him.
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” I assured him as the tears poured down my cheeks, as my whole body shook as the adrenaline started to leech out of me. “I’m sorry, baby,” I added, voice catching on a sob as I pressed my face into the side of his head. “I’m sorry. It’s okay. I’m here.”
Slowly but surely, Judah’s sobs subsided until he was just letting out sad little sniffles and hiccups.
My tears, though, kept flowing for a while.
Whatever pure, maternal rage had flooded me during the attack was gone, leaving only the fear I’d been burying underneath it, making me cold and shaky, my heartbeat hammering.
It was then that I heard footsteps.
I couldn’t bring myself to look, though.
But a second later, I felt a body move in behind me, arms wrapping around both of us, and pulling me back against a wide, solid chest.
Aurelio’s face pressed to the side of my head like mine was pressed to my son’s.
