Page 134 of Dirty Game
For a moment, he doesn't recognize me, and I see pure terror in those eyes that are so like his father's.
"Rosa?" His voice is tiny, broken.
"I'm here." Now I touch him, gathering him into my arms. He clings to me like I'm a life raft, his small body shaking. "You're safe. You're home."
"She was back," he whispers into my shoulder. "Mama was back and she was so angry. She said I was bad for choosing you and Daddy. Said she was going to take me away again."
My heart breaks.
It's been six weeks since Sienna died, since Varrick ended the threat she posed.
But trauma doesn't understand death.
In Dante's dreams, she's still alive, still angry, still hurting him.
"She can't take you anywhere," I tell him, rocking him gently. "She's gone, remember? No one's taking you from us. Ever."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
I feel rather than see Varrick in the doorway.
He does this—watches us from the doorway like he's afraid to intrude on these moments.
Like he doesn't deserve them.
"You don't have to do this," he says quietly, the same thing he says every time. "I can?—"
"He's yours, which makes him mine," I tell him, the same response I always give. "We're family."
Dante pulls back slightly, looking between us with those too-wise eyes. "Rosa's good at making the bad dreams go away," he tells his father solemnly. "Better than anyone."
Something soft crosses Varrick's face, an expression I only see when he looks at us. "She's good at a lot of things."
Dante yawns, the adrenaline fading. "Will you both stay?"
We've done this dance before.
Varrick takes the chair by the window, standing guard even in sleep.
I curl up beside Dante, who insists on sleeping between me and the door because "I protect Rosa now too."
Within minutes, his breathing evens out.
But I stay awake, thinking about how this traumatized little boy has started calling me Rosa.
Not Mama—that word is still poisoned for him.
But Rosa is close. Rosa is himchoosingme.
"The custody papers came through today," Varrick says into the darkness.
"Already?"
"The judge signed off this afternoon. Full custody, no visitation rights to anyone from Sienna's family. He's officially mine." A pause. "Ours."
"Ours," I repeat, liking how it sounds.
