Page 174 of The Bratva King

I get Luke in the tub and bathe him, checking again for injuries. I find a few bruises from where the bad man squeezed his arm, but he’s otherwise untouched.

The horrible things I’d imagined were all wrong. He’s safe. Physically unharmed. There will be a lot more therapy and counseling in his future, but we’ll get through it.

I’m just putting him in his new jammies when Nik returns with a cookie and the weighted lap pad from the playroom.

Luke’s favorite blanket sits on the floor in the pile of soiled clothing. We’ll be burning that fucking thing, too. We’ll get him a new blanket. Exactly the same, but with no bad memories attached.

Luke takes the cookie, eats, and then Nik picks him up and carries him to bed.

The sun is just rising. Luke was gone for less than twenty-four hours, but it felt like years. My perfect boy. Home.

I don’t know if I’ll ever let him out of my sight again.

I kick off my shoes and stretch out on one side of him. Nik looks at me with a silent question. I see the toll the last twenty-four hours has taken on him. He’ll never be able to tell me with words. I get that, but I know what he needs.

I scoot Luke closer to me, making just enough room for Nik’s large body.

Nik takes off his shirt and shoes and carefully slips in on the other side of him. I reach across Luke’s body and touch Nik’s arm. His eyes meet mine.

“You got him,” I say. “You did nothing wrong in any of this. None of this is on you.”

“I should have…”

“No. Don’t you dare take this on. You saved us, Nikolai Sokolov. More than once.”

“I want to tell you…” His voice is hoarse.

I shake my head. “Not now. You put that away like I know you do. When you’re ready, you’ll tell me what happened. All I need to know is that he’s here.”

He nods, and the pain in his eyes undoes me. I know it’s probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, but I know Nik. I know he has to compartmentalize to survive. Talking about what he saw in that house won’t help him.

It’s cramped and uncomfortable, but I don’t care. My son is between us, safe and home.

I stare across Luke’s sleeping figure at Nikolai. His eyes are on Luke. Everything he’s never been able to say is written on his face.

This is his son. Not by blood, but by choice. By love.

And I love him for it.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He looks at me. “For what?”

“For bringing him home. For keeping your promise.”

“I said I would.” His thumb strokes Luke’s knuckles. “I will always keep him safe. Both of you.”

I believe him.

For the first time in my life, I’m not planning my next escape. I’m not looking over my shoulder or checking exits.

I’m home.

And I will never run again.

44

Nikolai