Chapter 35
Boaz
Five months later.
“Where is my baby?” Hansel called as he walked through the house, his boots thudding against the wooden floor.
Michael let out a delighted giggle, his head tilting slightly as if he could already recognize the voice. There were moments, even now, when Boaz wondered what exactly he was becoming.
“There he is,” Hansel said, more of a growl of relief than anything, as he pushed the door open. Michael squealed immediately, his toothless grin stretching wide as his whole body lit up with joy.
Boaz couldn’t help but smile at the sound.
Hansel picked Michael up and tossed him gently into the air, making him laugh harder.
Boaz turned away and pulled a luggage case from his closet. He placed it on the bed, unzipped it, and began carefully folding the clothes from the bed and packing them inside.
“Are you going somewhere?” Hansel asked.
“Yes,” Boaz said.
“Where?” he asked.
Boaz took a deep breath, bracing himself for the argument he knew was coming. “I’m taking Michael to the north. He needs to meet his other family. They don’t even know he exists.”
“You can change that with a simple phone call. You don’t have to take him all the way there,” Hansel said, holding Michael a little more protectively against his chest. “He’s still so young. It’s cold over there. What if something goes wrong? The roads aren’t even properly passable.”
“I’ve packed warm clothes for him, and I can hike the rest of the way if I have to. I’ll be fine,” Boaz said. “Besides, his dad is from there. I’m sure the cold won’t affect him the same way.”
You don’t know that,” Hansel said.
Boaz lowered himself onto the bed, his shoulders heavy, gaze fixed on his hands as if they held answers he couldn’t find anywhere else.
“I need to see where they buried him,” Boaz said quietly. “I think I’m ready to let him go now. And I want Michael to see it too. He needs to know where his father is.”
“Fuck,” Hansel sighed, sitting down beside him. “I’ll come with you.”
“No. I need to do this myself,” Boaz said.
He stood and went back to packing, moving with quiet focus. When he finished, he took Michael and carefully dressed him in warm clothes, adjusting every layer with practiced hands.
Hansel held the baby close against his chest as they walked out of the room together, while Boaz wheeled the luggage toward the car. The air outside felt colder, heavier, like it already knew where they were going.
“No. I need to do this myself,” Boaz said.
He stood and went back to packing, moving with quiet focus. When he finished, he took Michael and carefully dressed him in warm clothes, adjusting every layer with practiced hands.
Hansel held the baby close against his chest as they walked out of the room together, while Boaz wheeled the luggage toward the car. The air outside felt colder, heavier, like it already knew where they were going.
Hansel secured Michael into his car seat while Boaz loaded the bags into the boot.
To put Alexander behind him. It hadn’t been easy getting to this point, and going to Alexander’s home to see where he was buried felt like the final step.
Boaz didn’t know the exact location of the house, only that it was somewhere in the mountains. Still, he believed that once he got there, he would figure out the rest of the way.
Ten hours later, he arrived in a picturesque town. The streets were blanketed in snow, and smoke curled lazily from chimney tops. It looked like one of those dreamy towns from a romantic film. In the distance, the mountains rose sharply, with no clear road leading up to them.
He was going to have to make it up there on foot, Boaz thought as he drove through the town and eventually reached where the road ended. He parked the car, stepped out, and scanned the area. Snow lay thick on the ground, and dense pine trees stood packed together, dark against the white.
He pulled the baby carrier from the case and secured it to his chest. Then he lifted Michael from his seat and carefully strapped him in, making sure he was snug and safe.
He took out an oversized down jacket he had bought for this exact purpose and pulled it on, wrapping it around Michael as well, shielding him completely. A beanie went over his head next.
Once he was sure everything was packed away and the car was locked, he turned toward the mountains and took a deep breath.
“Are you up for a walk in the snow?” Boaz asked as he carefully made his way up the barely visible trail.
He stepped over fallen trees and half-buried stones, each step slow and deliberate. The snow was deep, making every movement heavier than the last, but he pushed on anyway.
Every so often, he checked on Michael, making sure he was still comfortable and secure against his chest. The baby seemed fine, calm in the steady rhythm of Boaz’s steps.
Boaz kept his footing careful, pausing when he needed to catch his breath, refusing to rush.
Finally, he let out a quiet sigh of relief as the trees opened into a clearing.
The castle stood majestic and almost otherworldly among the trees, right at the foot of the mountain, shrouded in drifting mist.
Boaz walked up to the heavy door and knocked.
He glanced down into his jacket, checking on Michael, and found him sleeping soundly against his chest.
The door swung open a few minutes later. A young vampire stood there, staring at him in clear shock.
“It’s you,” he said. “You’re the werewolf who saved our king.”
“Yes, it’s me. Can you please let me in?” Boaz replied, shifting slightly as he placed a hand on Michael’s back. “I need to get out of the cold.”
“Of course,” he said, stepping aside.
Boaz stepped inside, immediately noticing how warm and cozy the foyer was, as if the vampires living there had designed it to hold in heat against the cold outside. He unzipped the oversized jacket and pulled it off, handing it over.
The vampire’s eyes lingered on Michael, staring as though he had never seen a baby before. He probably hadn’t.
“Uhm… Alexander’s parents. Are they home?” Boaz asked, gently shifting his attention away from the child.
“Yes, they’re home. I’ll go call them,” he said, then pointed Boaz down the hallway. “You should wait in here.”
He opened the door to a waiting room. Several couches sat arranged in the center, and a fire crackled in the fireplace.
Boaz walked over to it and held out his hands toward the warmth, hissing slightly as the ache in his fingers set in.
“Damn, my hands were frozen,” he muttered to himself.
He carefully lifted Michael out of the carrier to check on him, but the baby seemed perfectly fine. If anything, he tolerated the cold better than Boaz did.
“You took that from your father, didn’t you?” Boaz said softly, holding him against his chest. He turned toward the couch just as Drago walked in.
Boaz startled at the sight of him. The vampire never failed to remind him of Alexander.
Drago settled his piercing gaze on him. “You have a baby,” he said with a frown.
“Yes,” Boaz replied, walking over to one of the couches and sitting down. “Are your parents coming? I’d like to tell everyone at the same time.”
“They’ll be here in a minute. What’s going on?”
Boaz hesitated, keeping his eyes on Michael for a moment before looking back up. “Can we wait for them?”
“Sure,” Drago said. He crossed to the couch opposite Boaz and sat down, his gaze immediately locking onto Michael.
Boaz could feel the weight of his stare. He had thought Alexander could be intense, but Drago felt sharper, more controlled.
“I heard you saved Alexander years ago,” Drago said.
“Yes, I did,” Boaz replied.
“Thank you,” Drago said quietly. “The thought of him gone…” He trailed off.
Boaz frowned. Gone? He wasn’t sure what Drago had been about to say, and the unfinished sentence lingered in the air like something heavy.
Alexander was gone now. Or at least, he had been. Was this better than before? Worse?
Boaz tightened his hold on Michael, unsettled by the silence that followed.
Then hurried footsteps echoed down the hall.
He looked up just as the door opened and Blade stepped in with two older-looking vampires behind him. Boaz instinctively held his breath.
“Oh my god,” Blade said, covering his mouth with his hands as his eyes landed on Michael. “Is he?” he asked.
“Yes. He’s Alexander’s son,” Boaz said.
Silence filled the room as everyone stared. Michael stirred in Boaz’s arms, fussing softly as if sensing the shift in energy around him.
Alexander’s mother was the first to move. She crossed the space slowly and sat down beside him.
“May I?” she asked, extending her hands gently.
“Yes,” Boaz said, carefully placing Michael into her arms.
The baby whimpered at first, a small protest leaving him, but quickly settled as she held him close against her chest.
“He’s a sweet little thing,” she said.
Alexander’s father stepped closer, a soft smile spreading across his face with every step. “Isn’t he amazing?” she asked, looking down at Michael, then up at Boaz.
Boaz watched them admire the baby, giving them a moment before bringing up what he had come here for.
He could feel Drago’s gaze on him the entire time.
Boaz looked up and met his eyes, finding him still watching intently.
“What?” Boaz asked. “You don’t believe Michael is his son?”
“No. I believe you. I can sense he’s blood,” he said. “I’m just wondering why you came all this way to tell us. You could have called.”
“I…” Boaz wrung his hands together, suddenly unsure they would even allow him to see Alexander’s grave. But they had no reason to deny him.
“I want to see where you buried him,” he said. “I want to say my goodbyes.”
The room fell into an uneasy silence. Boaz noticed the glances they exchanged, quick and wordless.
“Take him to him,” Alexander’s mother said.
Drago rose from his seat and walked toward the door. “Are you coming?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder.
Boaz stood, his gaze dropping to Michael in his arms.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him,” Alexander’s father said.