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It's an even worse time to push this boy to answer my questions than yesterday, but I refuse to back down. We must get to the bottom of his identity crisis and help him recover his memories. It's the only way to discover who his captors were and where he came from.
"My captors." Wesley kisses Pickles’ head. "They threatened us when we spoke about pets. They said we’d get attached which wouldn’t be good for us."
Rage pummels me with clenched fists. "They wouldn't allow you to keep pets because they’d give you something to live for." I hate to put this so bluntly, but I can't control myself. "That's the reason they didn't want you to have animals."
Wesley nods. "I figured as much." Tears well in his eyes. "One boy had a turtle. No one knew how he got it, although we were pretty sure a client gifted it to him because he reminded him of his son."
I fight the urge to get sick. "His son?"
Wesley tears his eyes away from me. "This man liked to role play he was in his son's room. His son has a pet turtle, so he gave my friend an identical turtle so they could role play together."
I take a deep breath and try to stay calm. It's moments like these that I remember my training from my father in Italy. I never show excess emotion and I fight like hell not to let my demons escape the pit I throw them in.
But this news is disgusting. If this is the shit the Diavolos permitted in their warehouse, I need to kill them. Right now.
"What happened to your friend?"
"My captors found his turtle next to his cage." Wesley hugs Pickles even tighter. "They asked him where he got it. He said a man lent it to him, but he didn't say why. The captors made him flush the turtle down the toilet. Then they killed him."
I wrap my arm around Wesley's waist. "I'm so sorry to hear that." Gritting my teeth, I shake my head in disgust. "You and your friends went through so much abuse in that hellhole. None of that should've happened."
"Thank you." Wesley sniffles as he stares at the floor. "It's all so vivid. I had a dream I was back there last night, like I didn't actually escape."
"Do you remember how you got out?" I'm not messing around anymore. "Do you rememberanythingelse?"
"I recall standing in the alley dripping in blood." Wesley's voice is soft. "I was holding a knife and a dead man was on the ground. That's it."
Pickles licks the tears from Wesley's cheek. She senses he’s stressed. Wesley kisses her and squeezes her as hard as he can.
"Thank you, puppy." His cheeks flush pink as he twirls in a circle. "You kissed my tears away. You're the best doggy in the world."
Pickles rewards Wesley with another smooch, this time on his neck. I watch the scene coldly, trying to figure out why Wesley can't remember the events of eight days ago.
Is it possible someone slipped him drugs? The Diavolos are known for trafficking drugs. After all, Arlo’s medication contained traces of stimulants.
Were the Diavolos feeding the boys in their basement drugs foryears? That’d explain his memory loss. Maybe when the drugs are out of his system, his memories will return.
Just then, the sound of footsteps reaches the room. Fists bang on the door.
"Benedetto?" A voice calls over the knocking. "Are you in there?"
"We want to meet our new friend," the other voice shouts, which I recognize at once. "And your puppy."
I pat Wesley's back. "Let your friends in, boy. They want to meet you."
Wesley bites his lower lip. "Are they safe?" He tugs at his T-shirt. "They won't hurt me, will they?"
This poor angel. My heart cracks as I stare into his eyes.
"No, sweet boy." I tousle Wesley's hair, then kiss his temple. I definitely shouldn't do this; I try to put myself in his position. A man planting a kiss on his head, even if it's only a token of friendship, could make him uncomfortable. God, I need to reign myself in. This boy has gone through so much shit and the last thing he needs is a guy like me, who can't even keep a fucking boyfriend, coming onto him. "They’re my brothers’ partners. They’re excited to meet you."
After feeding Pickles a treat, Wesley tiptoes to the door. He cracks it open and peers into the hall.
He smiles when he sees Arlo and Rusty. "Hi. It's nice to meet you."
Arlo and Rusty burst into the room, smiles on their faces. They wear adorable onesies and have pacifier lanyards around their necks. Rusty's onesie has red firetrucks on it and Arlo's has aliens. Both boys leap up and down when they see Wesley.
“Hi.” Rusty takes Wesley's hand and squeezes it. "It's nice to meet you, too. My Daddy told me great things about you."
