Page 22 of Carver

Carver stood by the door where the boy slept for several minutes. He debated going to his own room. He wanted to go back to sleep because he knew the day ahead would be rough. At the same time, he felt the urge to grab a blanket and sit in the room with the boy.

Letting the latter emotion win, he stepped inside his room, pulled his comforter off his bed, and returned to the room where the boy slept. He took a look around and realized there really wasn't an area for him to sit comfortably. It really wasbarelyfurnished.

Though he was far too old to do so, he put his back against the wall and let himself sink down to the floor. He leaned in such a way to hopefully not fall over, but at the same time appear less threatening should the boy wake up and see him.

With the door closed and it being just the two of them, Carver relaxed. The morning would be here soon enough. He had a million and one things to get done.

Before any of it could happen, he needed to make sure the boy was okay. As his eyes closed, he pictured the golden waves and the boy's face as he slept. It transformed to what he imagined the boy would look like smiling.

He longed to know what that would be like.

Carver wanted to give the boy a sense of happiness. He would do so no matter what the cost.

He wasn't prez of one of the most lethal motorcycle clubs in North America for no reason. He always got what he wanted, and what he wanted this time was to see his boy happy.

Ten

Carver sleptfor several hours in that awkward position, waking later with pain radiating through his neck. Knowing that it wouldn't get any better, and he likely wouldn't get any more sleep, he rose and took a look at the boy.

He was still knocked out, which was good and bad.

Carver decided to take the chance to shower and freshen up. The day would not wait on him. While he could sit and stare at the boy for hours more, he knew he had to get things done.

Going back into his room, he stripped free of his clothes and hopped in the shower. He moved on autopilot, washing his hair and getting clean. After he got out, he threw on some jeans, a white shirt, and his cut. He even put on his boots because being barefoot felt somehow wrong in all of this.

He was the leader of the Angels. The big boss in charge. The Butcher.

Being soft wasn't something he could afford at the moment.

As he went to leave, he decided to check on the boy one more time. When he opened the door, he realized something was wrong. The bed was empty and there was no sign of the young man.

Since he hadn't heard anyone leave or move down the hall, he suspected the boy was somewhere in the room. Moving slowly around the bed, he spotted a form curled up on the floor beside it. The way he was positioned, the boy couldn't see him — or at least Carver didn't think he could.

When the boy began to shake as if terrified, Carver noticed the small space between his arms where his eyes had peeked through. He backed up until he was further away, slowly lowering himself to a kneeling position.

"Hello," he said to the boy. "I'm Carver. You're here in my home."

He nearly scoffed at the phrasing. While this was his home, it wasn't anything like a normal house. Then again, the boy had been kept in a literal mansion with an evil woman. This had to be somewhat better.

The boy pulled his arms away to reveal his face. Carver smiled. That seemed to relax him some more because he slowly pushed up.

Carver decided to take a chance and say more. "Me and my guys helped you get away from that lady."

He didn't dare say Mordecai's name. He worried that it would be triggering.

The young man blinked at him, like he didn't quite understand. Was he choosing not to respond?

Or maybe he's mute,Carver thought to himself.

Then he remembered the screams.

Carver shook his head to clear away the confusing thoughts as he continued on. "We brought you here. We're safe. We want to help and protect you. Do you have family that we can take you to? People that would help you or miss you?"

Carver hated that he had to ask the question. It was only right to check in. Since Trix had been working hard to pull up what hecould about the boy, Carver understood there was a high chance not everything would be sunshine and roses.

But he still hoped he could get some intel from the boy. Maybe something he said would make him want to talk back.

Instead of speaking, the boy moved even further into an upright position and began to crawl towards Carver where he was kneeling. Carver kept still. He worried any type of movement would stop the approach.