Page 28 of Owen (Storm Enterprises)

Rushing toward the door, I slide every lock in place, then fall to the floor. I’d not uttered a single word to him the entire time we spent together, but now I wish I’d have said a thousand things, but mainly, thank you. Thank you for swooping in and rescuing us, for bringing us to safety.

Thank you for being Carlos’s friend, brother, and ally.

Once I feed and change Romero, I put on the television, hoping to divert my attention from the clock beside me. Still, I glance at it every few minutes, like a couple of nights ago, when it glared back at me, not giving me the time I so desperately wanted to see.

Why does time go so slowly when you want it to speed up? Yet when you wish you had all the time in the world, it’s over in a flash.

A soft knock at the bedroom door stills me, and I mute the television, then glance toward my son sleeping beside me, tucked in between a pillow fortress.

The knock sounds again, and I chew on my bottom lip. It’s only been just over an hour since Nico left, and we’re at least two hours from home.

“Laya?”

Owen’s deep voice has me springing up from the bed. I rush toward the door, slip the chains off the latch with shaky hands, pull the door open, then throw myself at him, giving him no choice but to hold me against his muscular chest while uncontrollable sobs rack through me.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby girl. I got you.” He scoops me up with ease, his thick arms cradling me to his chest. “Shhh.” He presseskisses against my hair as he breathes me in, and I relish it, his touch, his proximity, the familiarity of it being him holding me. “You’re safe.” I hiccup on his words, finally knowing it to be true, believing it. “You’re fucking safe, baby girl. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” His confession sends a flurry of warmth through my veins. This is what I need to hear, this is the comfort I need, no matter how uncertain it may be. The turn of events that brought us here plagues my mind, but I don’t argue with his words. I give in to the feeling of security and clutch his T-shirt in my fist while my face floods with the wetness of my trauma. “Let it all out, Laya. I’m here. Nobody’s going to hurt you, baby girl. Nobody is going to hurt either of you.”

He walks us over to the bed, then freezes. I tilt my head to see his face, and his throat works as he stares toward Romero. “He has your hair,” he mumbles, as if speaking to himself, and I want to correct him. I want to tell him his shading is the same as his father’s, but I can’t get the words out.

“He’s perfect,” he whispers, his words laced in awe. “Just perfect.”

THIRTEEN

OWEN

My muscles are wrung tight as I stride down the corridor toward her room. The moment I got the call from Nico, I dropped everything to be exactly where I belong, by her side.

The pressure inside is combustible, and I know deep in my soul that I won’t settle until she’s in my arms. I need to see her, to hold her and know myself she’s safe. That she’s mine. Above all else, I need to reassure her. I don’t want a sliver of doubt to be in that beautiful head of hers that she’s anything but mine.

All. Fucking. Mine.

Sweat beads on my forehead as her room gets closer, and my blood pumps with a feral need to touch her to bring me solace.

It’s been too long. The day in the restaurant was the last time I saw her, and it feels like an eternity, and an unusual nervousness bubbles inside me. The moment I arrive outside her door, I take a deep breath to steel myself. Nico explained she was in a state of shock from Carlos’s demise, so I have to show her my support and compassion, but I will also make it known thatboth her and Romero are mine now, as they always should have been.

I swipe my sweaty palms down my jeans and take a deep breath before exhaling, then raise my hand and give the door a knock. My body vibrates with an urge to storm the room when nothing happens, so I mentally chastise myself before repeating the process. “Come fucking on, Laya,” I grumble to myself.

“Laya?” I grit out in annoyance.

Then I hear movement and the sound of the locks disengaging.

The moment the door opens, she flings herself at me, and my arms automatically band around her petite waist. I nuzzle into her hair, relieved her scent hasn’t changed, that she hasn’t changed.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby girl. I got you.” I scoop her up in my arms, desperate to hold her close to my heart, to soothe the heavy thud that penetrates my skin, and walk into the room.

She’s here.

She’s here with me, and I’m never letting her go. “Shhh.” I press soft kisses to her hair, using it to reassure me as much as her. She’s finally here. Finally in my fucking arms.

“You’re safe.” She hiccups at my words while she tangles her fingers in my shirt, fisting it. “You’re fucking safe, baby girl. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” I hate hearing her cry like this; the low sobs break my heart. “Let it all out, Laya. I’m here.”

I walk us over to the bed, then my feet come to a standstill. Staring down at the pillows, I set eyes on my son for the first time—Romero.

Emotion lodges in my throat like a thick ball, stealing my ability to swallow. With it comes a fierce determination.

He’s mine now. They both are.

I take in his little features, the way his lips are pulled into a cute bow, like Laya’s when she pouts. His small fists are bunched tight, and his mop of dark hair looks as silky as Laya’s.

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