Page 8 of Into Hell: Prelude (Holding Cell: Return to the Island)

“For me, it was you,” Lance whispered, one arm sliding around Fabian’s waist and drawing him in closer.

His palm pressed into the small of Fabian’s back, anchoring him.

“Before you rescued me off the streets, I’d never once imagined loving another man.

You gave me a home, a purpose, and a reason to keep breathing—and that reason was you. ”

Fabian’s lips curved into a soft smile, as if recalling a secret treasure.

“One of the most inspired decisions I ever made.” He reached for Lance’s hand, pressing it over his heart.

“Beneath those stinky rags you wore, I found my future husband, my savior, the one I would love for my whole life—though I didn’t realize it then. ”

Lance said nothing. Instead, he unwound his arm from around Fabian’s waist and let his fingertips travel slowly up the length of Fabian’s side, feather-light against the taut muscle beneath the linen shirt.

A tender grin played on his lips. He cupped the back of Fabian’s neck, his thumb brushing against the damp tendrils of dark hair at the nape, then leaned in.

Their mouths met in a kiss both reverent and fierce, as if they could taste every unspoken vow in each other’s breath.

Fabian answered with equal intensity—soft sighs, the gentle press of his chest against Lance’s.

Their kiss deepened, tongues dancing in a delicate exploration much like that first awkward, electrifying meeting five years ago.

They closed the final inch between them, skin to skin at last, hearts thudding in perfect harmony against the quiet hush of the room.

When they finally drew apart, their lips still grazing, tongues entwined in a slow, sensuous dance, they shared a breathless moment of absolute intimacy.

Eyes closed, they let the candlelight illuminate the meeting of their souls—every brush of fingertip, every pulse of warmth, a testament to the depth of their love.

Long after the kiss dissolved, Lance and Fabian lingered in one another’s embrace, fingers tracing the planes of necks, the hollow of clavicles, the steady rise and fall of chests.

Eventually, they shifted, settling side by side, backs against the soft blankets, hands laced together in an unspoken promise: to guard each other, to uphold The Base and everything it stood for, until their final breath.

“So…” Alasdair's fingers traced over his husband’s chest with a tenderness that belied the storm brewing within him.

The feel of the fine hair beneath his fingertips brought a fleeting smile to his lips.

“What are you thinking about?” His emerald eyes bore into the depths of the turquoise ones across from him.

“And don’t say it’s nothing; I won’t fall for that. ”

“I’ve learned it’s futile to hide anything from my fiery Spitfire,” Ardan pulled the redhead closer, pressing a fervent kiss to his forehead. “Before I came home, I was at The Base, discussing the trip’s outcomes with Pater. Our conversation ignited a wildfire of thoughts.”

“Thinking... about what?” Alasdair shifted, propping his head on one hand, bracing himself for whatever revelation awaited. “It didn’t go very well, did it?” His heart twisted painfully at the mere possibility of a negative answer.

“As expected, not all Mafia families see that guy as the villain; some even blame us for the chaos. In a way, I saw it coming.” Ardan dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand, yet there was an edge to his movements.

"But there’s something else: I was approached by a gangster who brazenly offered to back our efforts to stop this street war if we help him find his missing son. ”

He gave his husband a terse rundown of his earlier conversation with Fabian.

“Damn,” Alasdair muttered, shaking his head at the gravity of Ardan’s words. “These damn child traffickers—no one’s safe, not even the offspring of the most formidable mobsters, with their army of bodyguards.”

“Exactly,” Ardan sighed deeply, the weight of the situation pressing down. “As traditional alliances crumble and many law enforcement officers—whether police, sheriffs, or FBI agents—are bought off by those soulless monsters, we must seek assistance beyond our usual boundaries.”

“I’m sensing you’ve already got someone in mind,” Alasdair broke through the tense silence that followed. “Who’s the guy?”

“You know me so well, my Spitfire,” Ardan said, his smile slowly melting away, replaced by a serious expression that cast a shadow over his features. “The Sanitini family. You know them, the ones who…” he began, but his husband swiftly interjected, cutting him off with a warm and appreciative tone.

“How could I forget them?” Alasdair replied, his voice rich with emotion. “If it weren't for them, we wouldn’t have rescued our sons from that nightmarish island. It’s true that their own loved ones were also prisoners in that dreadful place, but still…”

“He could have just left Pater to die,” Ardan interrupted, a fierce passion igniting his words.

“He could have stood by as that monster raped and murdered him without a flicker of concern.” The emotion in his voice swelled, echoing his deep conviction.

“But he didn’t; instead, he saved a man he hardly knew. ”

“The big man, Cochise,” Alasdair said, his dark-green eyes sparkling like emeralds in the dim light, reflecting a mixture of admiration and wonder.

“I can’t quite articulate it, but during our brief conversation, he felt like a gentle giant—a tough gangster with a soft spot and a tender heart for children. ”

Ardan nodded in agreement, the seriousness of the moment softened by a fond smile.

“I felt the same way. After spending more time with Clint, I can confirm he truly embodies that spirit. You should have heard him speak about Hope, his precious baby daughter.” His smile widened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

“It was even more delightful when he discovered our younger son shares the same name as his boyfriend.”

“Yes, I noticed the spark in his eyes,” Alasdair replied, his voice trailing off as a brief silence enveloped them, thick with contemplation.

“You’re right; they could be invaluable allies, but how can we persuade them to come here?

You know how cautious they tend to be, and I can’t say I blame them. ”

“Invite them over,” Ardan replied without a moment's hesitation. “Better yet, let’s host it at The Base. We could organize a social gathering, maybe even a lively party where everyone, including their children, is welcome.” His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, a warm smile lighting up his face.

“Wouldn't that be wonderful? Imagine the children playing freely while we discuss... adult matters.”

“Adult matters,” Alasdair echoed with a wide grin, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“That sounds very... appealing and alluring.” He leaned in softly, pressing his lips tenderly to the corner of his husband’s mouth.

“You must be worn out from the flight and all the activities since you got home, so let’s go to bed.

Doctor’s orders,” the redhead said with a teasing smile, his eyes sparkling with affection.

Ardan remained quiet, his heart full, and with a bright smile, he kissed his beloved goodnight, wrapping him in a warm embrace and closing his eyes.

Shortly after, the gentle rhythm of Alasdair's soft snores filled the room—a comforting, familiar sound that brought a smile to Ardan's face. Some things never change, he mused, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Another crucial aspect for Ardan was the mission of rescuing the innocent and ensuring their safety at The Base.

Unfortunately, the battle against human trafficking rings grew more arduous with each passing day.

The vile abusers seeking services from these monstrous networks were multiplying, finding allies among high-ranking officials within the federal government.

Ian and his team from the New York DA’s Office, alongside their contacts in the FBI, CIA, and MI5, as well as Fabian’s network of political allies and business partners, initially offered their support.

However, many ceased their support after facing threats or succumbing to bribes from the traffickers and their powerful supporters, leaving the fight more daunting than ever.

The Sanitini family was an enigma, a force of nature unto themselves.

They were indifferent to the world around them, their hearts encased in a fortress of strength, bravery, and stubbornness—qualities that mirrored Ardan himself.

Unbreakable in spirit, the only thing that could bring them to their knees was the searing pain inflicted upon their loved ones.

Even in those moments of anguish, Clint, Cochise, and the others would ensure that anyone who dared to harm them would face the ultimate reckoning, their vengeance as fierce as a storm.

Ardan contemplated their need for assistance from others, a necessity that was mutual, especially for large-scale rescue missions like the one on the island.

He knew they would never admit it, but he had experienced a similar situation in the past. Fortunately, he had crossed paths with wise souls who enlightened him to the truth that no individual or organization could stand alone in the face of adversity.

When the cause called for it, accepting support offered with genuine goodwill was not a sign of weakness but a testament to strength.

Island… The mere mention of the word reverberated through Ardan’s thoughts, igniting a wave of unease that washed over him, reminiscent of the harrowing day when his three sons and their friends were snatched away months ago.

He tried to attribute this unsettling feeling to his earlier conversation with Spitfire, making a conscious effort to shake off the nagging sensation that clung to him like a shroud.

His thoughts then drifted to his brother Brennan and the lingering grudge he probably still held against Clint over the chaotic incident in the guest room of the Sanitini mansion, just before their frantic attempt to save their loved ones.

If their fistfight hadn't healed the rift, Ardan suspected Brennan would stubbornly oppose any alliance between The Base crew and Clint's Mafia family.

A yawn escaped Ardan’s lips as fatigue settled heavily on his eyelids.

It was time to rest; after all, his beloved Spitfire would surely make his morning unbearable if he went to breakfast with dark circles under his eyes.

His thoughtful husband was right; he would need every ounce of energy for the meeting ahead.

With that comforting thought, Ardan gave in to sleep, a serene smile on his lips as he drifted into dreams.