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PROLOGUE

Twenty-Four Years Ago

“W e can’t just leave him here. She’ll call the police!” came the softly hissed words as the hands pinning his legs against the hardwood floor tightened, stopping him from pulling away.

“We don’t have a choice,” his father bit out as he tightened his hold around Tristan’s wrists, pinning his arms against the floor with one hand while he kept his other hand against his mouth so that he couldn’t scream. “He’s ruining our lives, Julie.”

“She doesn’t want him,” his mother said softly as Tristan squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

“And we can’t keep him,” his father said, tightening his hold around Tristan’s wrists while he struggled to break free.

He needed to get away from this house, from them, from everything, but he couldn’t get away or even scream for help. They had him restrained on the floor and were doing everything they could to make sure that his grandmother didn’t find out that he was having another “episode.” He-

Froze when he felt it.

Cold dread pressing down against his shoulders seconds before cold air moved across his face, teasing his neck before finally blowing across his ear and-

“Son of a bitch!” his father shouted when Tristan bit him, too desperate to get away to care about what happened next.

As soon as his father released his hold on him, Tristan was yanking his arms and legs free. When his mother tried to stop him, he shoved her arms away and got to his feet and blindly ran towards what he hoped was the door only to slam into the wall. He stumbled back before he shook it off and kept going, blindly reaching out until he found the wall again. He-

“Grab him!”

-swallowed hard as he quickly made his way to the left, praying that he was going the right way as he slid his hands over the wallpaper lining the wall, knocking into framed pictures along the way until he came to the doorframe. He wrapped his trembling fingers around the wood and pulled himself towards the hallway. Once his feet hit the hardwood floor, he was racing out of the room towards the stairs only to trip on the old rug running down the middle of the hallway and slammed into the wall. Shaking it off, Tristan kept his eyes shut as he moved, using his trembling hands to help guide him. He fumbled with frames, the small shelves on the wall holding the knickknacks that his grandmother warned him to keep his damn hands off, breaking several along the way until he found the wall that would lead him the rest of the way.

He kept going, ignoring the muttered curses and the sounds of his parents running towards him as he frantically ran his hands over the wall until he found the handrail and-

“Tristan!”

-stumbled past it when a rush of cold dread tore through his small body and went flying. He reached out desperately to grab hold of the handrail as he fell, but it was too late. He slammed into the stairs below, tearing a pained grunt that barely registered as he fell down the rest of the stairs, slamming his arms and legs against the wall and unforgiving guardrail along the way until he hit the hardwood floor below.

Keeping his eyes squeezed shut, Tristan stood up on shaky legs, stumbled to the right only to run as fast as he could, praying that he was going the right way when he felt a cold hand wrapping around the back of his neck. Swallowing back a scream, Tristan ran, forcing his trembling legs to move only to have them give out on him, sending him flying and slamming him face-first into what felt like the thick leg of the mahogany end table that his grandmother kept by the front closet. He felt hot liquid stream down his face, but he didn’t care. He needed to get out of the house before it was too late.

When he tried to get back up, intense pain shot through his head, dropping him back onto his side, and making his head spin as he struggled to get to the door. After a minute, Tristan realized there was nothing that he could do and rolled over onto his back, praying that his grandmother finally threw him out for good.

* * *

“On my count, one…two…three,” Tom counted off, keeping his gaze locked with his partner’s as they picked up the backboard holding the little boy that looked like he’d gone through hell.

Without a word, they carried the small boy out of the house and carefully made their way across the front porch and down the stairs. When his boots hit the cracked walkway, Tom’s gaze dropped to the little boy and-

He wanted to fucking kill someone.

Swallowing hard, Tom took in the large bruise forming on the side of the little boy’s face, the blood-soaked gauze pad he’d secured to his small temple, the red marks marring the back of his neck, leaving no doubt in his mind that they’d been left behind by someone grabbing the little boy by the back of his neck. Tom glanced up and met Jeff’s glare, watching as his partner’s jaw clenched tightly as they made their way down the long walkway towards their ambulance.

As soon as they reached the ambulance, he was calling Hank and-

“Hold up. I think the kid’s seizing,” Jeff said before they placed the backboard on the ground in a well-practiced move.

“He’s just having a panic attack,” the boy’s mother said flatly from the porch as the boy started screaming and-

“Unfucking-believable,” Tom muttered as he watched the little boy’s mother turn around and walk back inside without another word.

“Let’s go,” Jeff said, drawing his attention back to the little boy squeezing his eyes tightly shut. With a nod, they picked up the backboard and continued making their way to the ambulance.

As soon as they reached the ambulance, they carefully slid the backboard on top of the gurney as Tom climbed inside. He watched the little boy tentatively open his eyes seconds before pure terror spread over his face. In seconds, he was screaming as he tore frantically at the safety restraints securing him to the backboard. He was just about free when Tom finally managed to grab hold of him and restrain him back on the board.

“Get back here and help me with this kid!” Tom said as he tried holding the little boy’s arms down, but he could barely manage it. Christ, this kid was strong.

In a matter of seconds, the little boy managed to break free and lunged for the door. Tom grabbed the kid before he could jump out of the ambulance and had him back on the board when the kid took him by surprise and kicked him in the balls, dropping him to the floor.

“Get the kid!” Tom bit out when Jeff moved to climb inside only to end up releasing a grunt when the kid jumped out of the ambulance. The kid was like a rabid animal, kicking and screaming as he struggled to break free.

“Grab the restraints and call the police! I can’t handle this kid!” Jeff yelled as Tom struggled to stand up only to have his legs give out as pain tore through his balls. Gasping for air, he crawled to the front of the ambulance and grabbed the portable radio.

“Echo 14 in need of police assistance on scene. I repeat, Echo 14 in need of police assistance,” Tom managed to get out between gasps of air.

“ Echo 14, sending police assistance to 13 Derry Road. Is that correct ?” dispatch returned.

“Correct,” Tom said, placing his hand over his battered balls as he moved to stand up only to immediately double over in pain.

“ Police are on their way, Echo 14. Fire rescue is on its way as well ,” dispatch said as Tom dropped the portable radio on the driver’s side seat and-

“I need a hand!” Jeff yelled.

“Aw, fuck,” Tom muttered, taking a deep breath as he grabbed onto the back of the seat and closed his eyes when the pain threatened to knock him back down on his ass.

After a minute, he was able to open his eyes and move without feeling like he was going to vomit. He glanced back and found his partner still wrestling with the kid. Blood was trickling from Jeff’s nose as he moved to place the kid back inside.

Ignoring the pain tearing through his balls, Tom climbed over the passenger seat and managed to climb out the tech door. Biting back a groan, he made his way to the backdoors in time to grab the little boy just as he moved to kick Jeff in the face.

“Gotcha!” Tom said as he pulled the kid away from the ambulance and placed him on the ground, mentally preparing himself for another kick to the balls when he noticed something.

The kid wasn’t fighting anymore.

Wondering if this was a trick, Tom quickly pinned the kid’s arms against his body and held him on the ground. After a minute, the boy’s breathing became more relaxed. He watched as the little boy opened his eyes and slowly exhaled, looking really fucking relieved.

What the hell?

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” the little boy mumbled quietly, his bottom lip quivering as his eyes began to fill with tears and-

Christ, those green eyes…

He’d never seen anything like them.

So much goddamn sadness.

He felt lost looking into those eyes.

Swallowing hard, Tom released his hold on the little boy and found himself releasing a shaky breath when the little boy reached up and wrapped his small arms around him.

“Please don’t let go,” the little boy whispered, making Tom swallow hard as he wrapped his arms around him and-

“Never.”