Page 3 of The Homecoming: The Island

“You raped my son. I’ll raise yours as if they were my own flesh and blood,” Ardan replied in a flat, emotionless voice. “Speaking of, you are allowed to see them one more time before Lothier takes them to the clinic. Elias’s state is still uncertain, so please choose your words wisely when you speak to him. He’s just a kid in pain, who may not make it to tomorrow.”

Alexander grunted in response, the expression of devastation in Ardan’s eyes igniting a cruel smile. “My mortal enemy decided I, your father, don’t deserve to live anymore, and he is going to orphan you from the only parent you have left. It’s your duty to watch over Abernathy, so he won’t become a weakling, and, when the time comes, you should avenge my death. Do you hear me, boy?” Alexander brutally shook the unconscious teenager, and it took four guards to drag him out of the van.

“What kind of monster are you?” Digger, one of the bikers, grabbed a handful of the prisoner’s shirt, twisting the fabric in his fist. “Don’t you have mercy on that poor kid? A father should soothe his son, chase away his pain with gentle words, not poison what could be his last hours of life.” A disgusted grimace on his face, the man spat at Alexander’s feet as the beast was dragged away from the van.

He stopped fighting and docilely followed the guards, until they passed by the group of teens, who headed to the vans, flanked by the other bikers. The monster abruptly stopped at the sight of the boys, who looked happy and carefree. “Even the vilest serial killers have the right to a last wish, mine is to talk to Tarrin one more time,” Alexander said in calm voice.

Digger shot the old man a‘fuck you’look but pulled out his phone and messaged Ardan, relaying Alexander’s last request. As he listened to his boss’ response, Digger turned dull eyes on Alexander and set the phone to speaker. “Please repeat that, boss.”

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“No… it’s okay.” Tarrin walked closer, having overheard the exchange. “I’ll… I’ll talk to him,” the boy said tentatively.

“Tarrin…”Ardan spoke through the phone.“Son… no… don’t give that bastard the satisfaction.”

“I won’t, dad,” Tarrin replied softly as he approached the old man.

Digger clamped a firm hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “If you pull the same shit as earlier…” The biker let the sentence go, a formidable threat in his eyes and voice.

“I’ll be short and sweet,” Alexander returned with a tinge of sarcasm as his gaze settled on Tarrin. “One day, you’ll fall in love.” He stared into the boy’s aqua eyes. “You’ll find a boy as kind and pure as you.” Alexander spoke with the same strangely affectionate tone he’d used a few months earlier, whilerapingthe boy. “On that day, your father will break your heart and crush your spirit… like the controlling bastard he is.”

Tarrin stared back, unwavering. “No. Pater is not like that; he is generous, caring, and forgiving. A man of his word. You’re not describing him… you’re describingyourself.” The boy’s reply came in the same emotionless voice Ardan used when speaking to Alexander more than two decades earlier. “I don’t know if your oldest son will live or die, or what kind of relationship he and my father will have if he survives, but one thing I know for damn sure; he won’t rape your son as revenge againstyou.”

Alexander flinched at the boy’s words, pain and regret flickering in his eyes for a moment. “Let’s go,” he lowered his gaze and turned to Digger, “take me to my grave.”

Ardan, who witnessed the scene between his son and the man who tried to destroy them both, let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, when he saw the monster walking away. “Tarrin did it,” he whispered to himself, tears pooling in his eyes, “he put that creature of hell in his place, made him bow his head.”

“Of course, he did, you seem to forget whose blood runs through that kid’s veins,” Alasdair’s voice made Ardan smile. “We have to go, I’ll call you as soon as I get to the clinic, let you know what the poor boy’s state is.” The redhead shook his head, a defeated expression on his face. “He seems to have given up the fight, there’s no will to live left in him.”

“Elias is a fighter, just like Pater,” Ardan replied in an affectionate voice. “He has the blood, and the iron will of the Bloom men,” he added, his turquoise eyes becoming incandescent.

Alasdair nodded in approval and, after pecking his husband on the lips, climbed into the van driven by Lothier, the vehicle disappearing from sight in a couple of minutes. Lost in thought, Ardan flinched when someone wrapped an arm around his shoulders, but instantly relaxed when his eyes met those of the man next to him.

Fabian. His Pater. His rock, the one who kept him sane, who understood and loved him how only a father could love his son.He followed us on that hellish island to make sure we are going to come back in one piece,Ardan thought, putting his head on Fabian’s shoulder. The older man smiled affectionately, pulling the younger man closer.

Soon,he said to himself,we’ll be home, in the arms of our soulmates, hugging our precious children and grandchildren, listening to their crystalline laughs.

Minutes later, the two men climbed into the van taking them to The Base, the place they both called home, and where they found peace of mind, a purpose in life, and above all,love.

CHAPTER 3

“Look, there’s Papa.” Paisley pointed to the van Lothier was driving, which passed through the massive gates and toward the clinic. “Why didn’t it stop? Is Papa mad at us?” The little girl looked at Peyton, who offered her one of their kind, reassuring smiles.

“It was your dad, he’s in a hurry. A boy was injured on the island and needs medical attention. Your Papa is in one of the other vans, with your Granddad, older brothers, and all your cousins.” Peyton crouched in front of the little red-haired girl, their light-green eyes meeting her emerald ones.

“Is that boy brother Tarrin?” Axel’s whispered question voiced the fears of his twin sister, but also those of Selma and Alexis, who preferred Ardan’s younger son to all their other cousins. “Did the monster man hurt him?”

“No, sweetheart, he didn’t.” Peyton pushed down the lump in their throat, hugging the little boy to their chest. “Your Papa and the other rescuers got to Tarrin and the rest of the boys before the monster man and his minions.”

“What’s the name of the boy?” Selma’s voice made the other children turn to her, their worries about Tarrin forgotten, at least for a while. “Who is he? Is his dad Uncle Ardan’s friend? The bad cowboy who wanted to kill him.” The black-haired girl frowned, solemnly nodding. “Elijah said that. He doesn’t lie.”

“Selma Bloom-Hunter, eavesdropping on people’s conversations is not a nice thing,” Peyton gently admonished their daughter. “The cowboy wasn’t bad, he was hurt and afraid your Uncle Ardan would attack him. To answer your question, the name of the injured boy is Elias, and he…”

“Paisley, look, Papa! And there’s Granddad, too!” Axel’s high-pitched, excited voice had an instant effect; Peyton and the other three children looked in the direction the little boy indicated, starting to run as soon as they detected Fabian and Ardan into the crowd.

“Here you are, my brave warrior and beautiful princess!” Ardan knelt on the cold, hard ground, opening his arms as wide as he could. “Papa missed you so, so much,” he whispered into Paisley’s and Axel’s red, curly hair, kissing the top of their heads.

“I missed you, too,” the little girl sighed in contentment, burying her head in her father’s broad chest. “I don’t want to be a princess,” she whispered, scrunching her nose, “I want to be a hero, like you and Granddad.”

---