Prologue #2
“Fuckers drew them in with fake platitudes and lulled them into a false sense of security.” He shuddered, his eyes glistening in the porch lights.
“Rue got out of the house somehow and found his way to one of the safe homes we have scattered about. He hasn’t said how he knew about them, and right now, that’s not what’s important. ”
It was a familiar story, one Lane had heard more than once, of children running to safety houses. Except the children were divergent, not shifters.
“How did his parents end up in this crash?” Lane asked with a growing sense of trepidation for Rue’s family and their misguided beliefs.
At the brusque head shake, Ewan glanced into the house, his expression revealing the devastation he clearly felt. “Rue hasn’t said, but clearly it was a ploy to get their hands on Rue. They have very few young, strong males and…”
“They saw his potential to…” Lane couldn’t bring himself to say it. Someone like Rue would be considered a prize in this type of situation. It was the thing nightmares were made of. If they’d managed to contain—imprison—Rue, his life would have been all about crash life and not his own.
“Of course they did. I don’t think they counted on him being concerned about what they had done. The boy is devastated, and they wouldn’t understand that when they don’t see any value to his parents at all,” Ewan whispered, eyes blinking rapidly as the tears sheened his eyes.
Whatever they needed, Lane would do it, and he’d deal with his husband. “What do you need from me?”
The tension in Ewan’s jaw released as he stepped to Lane, relief evident in his eyes. “Come meet him before I say anymore.”
Lane’s chuckle was wry. “I know your ploy.”
Ewan gave him a sideways glance, a hint of a smile forming as they walked towards the front door. “Whatever works, right?”
“Then you can deal with Derick.”
Ewan rolled his eyes. “You have that man wrapped around your finger, heck, your whole body. You won’t need me.”
Conscious of the time and the children sleeping, Lane didn’t voice a protest but shook his head, casting his gaze at Ewan and raising one brow. Ewan shrugged, and Lane witnessed the grim expression return as he opened the door leading into where Lane had seen Lester.
In the room, Lane’s sole focus was the teenager sitting on what looked like bath towels.
Lane gasped in shock and shuddered at the brown stained clothes.
The stains had dried, looking stiff, and flaking blood covered the boy’s face, hands and bare feet.
It looked like he’d been bathed in blood from head to toe.
Nothing was untouched that Lane could see.
His imagination ran wild with awful visions of how so much blood could cover a person.
How close had he been to his parents to get this much blood on him?
Pain in his chest alerted him to the fact he hadn’t taken a breath when black-rimmed, gray eyes met his and held him captive.
Flakes of dried blood clung to long eyelashes, and the boy's gaze was filled with terror.
If it could live and breathe, then it lived in this boy, and Lane knew he would move heaven and earth to take it away.
Derick often said his capacity to love and love quickly was his greatest gift and biggest curse because once Lane felt love for someone, he would do anything for them no matter the cost to himself.
It was why they had four adopted boys besides the three Lane had given birth to.
“Who are you?” Rue’s voice was rough and raw, signalling the boy’s need for Lane’s strength in a way he couldn’t ignore.
“Lane.” He took a step closer, praying his legs would hold him up, continuing to hold the boy's terrified gaze, and keeping his own expression open. He crouched down in front of Rue, giving him his entire focus.
“I’m Lane Starling, and I help Ewan and Lester from time to time.
They rang me asking if I could help you, Rue.
” Lane knew honesty was the only way forward and was grateful his voice hadn’t cracked under the immense strain that what he had to offer wouldn’t be enough to save this boy.
Because saving was what he needed when Lane caught the dejection and vulnerability as he worked not to inhale the now overpowering scent of death.
The question was back. How close had he been to the destruction of his family?
Two large hands, so big that Lane wasn’t sure how he missed them initially, balled together, causing flakes of red to flutter in the air before landing on the rug.
“Why would you help me?” His nose wrinkled, making it look like he was wearing face paint when the blood creased into the grooves.
“You don’t know me… don’t know what I did,” he finished, tears forming in his pain-filled eyes before they leaked out, creating a macabre picture as they ran down his cheeks.
Going with his gut, Lane came closer and placed a hand on top of Rue’s, feeling the iciness of his bloodied skin. “I might not know, and it’s up to you if you want to share that with me, but it won’t make a difference to me and my family if you chose to come and live with us.”
“You can’t say that,” Rue replied, the hands beneath Lane’s trembling. “Not really.”
Lane searched his gaze. “You don’t know me, but if you come and stay with us, I’ll show you, you’re wrong.
Just give me a chance,” he pleaded, sending a mental apology to Derick.
He would move heaven and earth to protect this boy.
He was part of Lane’s family now, whether the boy realized it or not.