Page 54 of Losing My Siren Luna (Hidden Cove #1)

My smile falters, and I wish again that I had listened to the boy.

~

(Third Person POV )

The young boy wailed loudly, his cries not just for himself, his tears burning as they ran down his stinging, dirty cheek, still throbbing with the pain of the woman's slap.

He's crying for more than just that. He is remembering the day his mother was taken, forcefully pulled away from her family. She wasn’t alone.

He and his father were walking back home with her after making a rare visit to the beach to collect shells.

His father thought it would be safe since we were together as a family, the path cutting 15 minutes off their walk home.

That shortcut cost more than 15 minutes of their lives. It cost his parents everything.

The guards took her, ripping her clothes from her body as they dragged her into one of the buildings to take down to the cellar.

They had hurt his daddy when he tried to save her, breaking both of his legs and leaving him outside the building with his own measly knife he tried to fight them off with, forcing him to listen as they brutalized her.

It was horrific for the boy. His father killed himself, hearing and feeling his mate being tortured and raped the rest of the day and all through the night.

The boy went to the packhouse, begging the alpha to save his mom, but the man at the gates just laughed and told him to leave if he didn’t want the same to happen to him.

Ever since that day a month ago, the boy has sat in the same spot, all day and all night, warning women young and old not to go down the path.

Some of the shop owners around the square felt bad for the boy, offering him food periodically, but none had been brave enough to offer the boy a safe place to stay, worried the guards might soon discover what the boy had been doing and would look to punish him and those aiding him.

He has been utterly alone since the death of his parents.

“Why are you crying, young man?” An older man, someone the boy had never seen before, knelt down beside him and asked.

He had a different scent, not like the members of this pack.

He also looked important, like someone with a lot of money.

His clothing was nice and clean. His face, though scarred and rough, was kind.

“She didn’t listen,” the boy whimpered, pointing down the alleyway that the pretty woman had just walked down.

She isn’t screaming yet, but the boy knows it is just a matter of time.

The houses and buildings all along that alleyway belong to the pack’s single guards and warriors.

No one goes that way except for them, and for good reason.

She wasn’t nice, but no woman deserves to be treated the way those men will end up treating her.

“Who?” The man looked down the pathway.

“The woman,” the boy whimpers. “The one not from here. She was going to the packhouse. I told her not to.”

The man makes a face, then whistles loudly, causing two more men to appear from a store across the square.

Both of the new men are dressed similarly to the first man, but they are considerably younger.

Their scents are similar and their faces are just as kind, looking down at the boy with a lot of sympathy.

One of them even reaches into his pocket and fishes out a handkerchief, using it to mop up the tears and snot all of the boy’s face.

“My name is Kent,” the handkerchief man said, his voice soothing and tender. “What is yours?”

“Riley,” the boy blubbers.

“Where are your parents, Riley?” the older man asked. When Riley's face contorted with mourning and sadness, his bottom lip quivering uncontrollably, the three men knew. He had no parents, and the older man instantly felt horrible for asking such an insensitive question.

The boy begins to cry again, flustering Kent.

Kent decides the handkerchief is a lost cause, now creating mud against the boy’s dirty skin instead of helping to clean him up.

Instead, he opens his arms wide to Riley.

Riley doesn’t hesitate to throw himself in Kent’s arms, longing for some form of physical contact after so long.

He hasn’t been held since his parents’ deaths.

Kent doesn’t flinch away from the boy's grimy appearance or soiled clothing.

He holds him tight, letting the boy feed off some of his strength.

“Can we bring him with us, commander?” Kent looked up at the older warrior.

“We sure as hell aren't leaving the lad on the streets with wet britches. We can get him cleaned back at the hotel, then have him on the ship before it takes off for Hidden Cove tomorrow. The captain will look after him.”

The boy gripped tighter around Kent’s neck, fearful of what they meant about the captain looking after him.

“Riley,” Kent took the boy’s hands, pulling him back slightly to look at his face.

“Do you want to go someplace where there are other children that need friends like you to watch out for them? A place where you will get fed more than you could ever eat and teachers will play with you when you’re not doing school? ”

“Not the fabric mill?” Riley asked, worried about where the place could be. The only place in this pack for kids like him are the mills, and the children rarely live long in those conditions.

“No, lad,” the commander shook his head. “It would be one of our orphanages. I think you would do well in the one near the sea. The kids take walks on the beach often and pick seashells. Sometimes our Alpha even joins them.”

“Your alpha?!” Riley asked in disbelief. “Alpha’s don’t care about kids.”

Kent huffs. “They do. Yours just doesn’t. He’s a special kind of horrible.”

“Speaking of which,” the commander said, “It appears the brothel wench you spotted from the store window was seeking Alpha Wayne. Are you sure she was the one who caused the problems for the Luna and for Percy’s new mate?”

Kent nodded. “Percy wanted to skin her alive. Leona was very possessive of the Alpha at the brothel, too. If she’s here, I don’t imagine it’s for a good reason.”

“She could just be trying to find a new Alpha to harass since ours found his mate,” the third man said.

“Doubt it,” Kent groaned, narrowing his eyes in the direction they saw her walking. “She was obsessed. The crazy kind of obsessed. She had the brothel women crash the Alpha and Luna's wedding reception. She even tried to get in his wedding bed before the Luna could.”

The commander pursed his lips deep in thought while staring in the direction Riley said not to go. “Why is that way not safe to go?” He asked Riley.

Riley sniffled and looked down the path with a worried expression. “The guards live down there. They attack women walking that way. They got my mom. They killed her.”

Kent grips the boy tightly against his chest, hiding his angered expression from him so as not to scare him. The commander and the other man looked appalled.

“Gerald, mind link the others and let them know that that woman is here. Tell them the situation and wait here to watch for her return. Don’t go down that pathway unless you hear screams. Even then, notify us first.”

“Sure, commander. Where are you two going?” The third man, Gerald, asked.

The commander tenderly smiled down at Riley. “We’re going to get this boy checked into the hotel and cleaned up. Maybe Kent can introduce him to the captain after getting him new clothes and a belly full of something delicious.”

The commander takes a paper bag Gerald is holding and offers it to Riley. Gerald is more than willing to part with his recent purchase for the boy's sake. Riley opens the bag, then smiles for the first time in weeks.

"Cookies!" Riley squealed gleefully.

"All for you, lad. Munch on those as we walk," the commander said as he lifted the boy in his arms, hiding his grimace as he got a closer view of the bruising on the boy's cheek from the brothel wench's slap.

It's wrong, but the commander secretly thinks that if she were to be attacked, it might just be deserved.

He never thought he would think that about a woman, but she seemed like pure evil. This pack would fit her well.