“It’s not right,” he grumbled to himself.
Maybe not, but it was still happening. He knew enough from his years of working for the Council to realize they weren’t going to change their mind, at least not right away. Not without first deporting them.
And that just wasn’t going to happen.
Dagan checked his phone one more time before taking a last look around his bedroom. It had been emptied of all his personal belongings. This place was no longer their home.
That hurt more than he cared to admit.
“Fuck.” Letting out a sigh, he strode from the room and through the apartment, which seemed so lifeless now that he, Ronin, and Amara had removed their most prized possessions. Everyone had congregated upstairs at Keegan’s, so after he retrieved his rolling suitcase and heavy duffel bag from where he’d dropped them by the front door earlier, he took the elevator up.
As soon as Dagan walked in the door, he sensed the heavy, ominous tension that filled the entire apartment. He followed the source to the living room, where Keegan and Ronin were engaged in terse discussion. Aegin was cradled in Keegan’s arm football style, and he used his free hand to pat the fussy infant on the back. Both men cut off when they saw Dagan.
“About ready?” Keegan asked him grimly.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Keegan nodded, looking faintly sick to his stomach. “Amara and Brynn are packing the remainder of Aegin’s things.”
Dagan’s stomach knotted with unease. He set his bags down and strode over to where his brothers stood. When he made a cooing sound at the baby, Keegan flipped him right-side up and handed him over. Dagan took tight hold of the precious bundle and held him up, playfully nibbling his stomach until Aegin let out a delighted squeal and a sliver of drool dropped to Dagan’s forehead.
Damn, but he loved this freaking kid. More and more every day. This was the reason they could never return to Infernum. Aegin was going to have a good life. He was going to grow up safe and happy. Dagan would do anything to ensure that would happen.
As he looked at his brothers, emotion overcame him. The same could be said of any of them.
We’re going to pull through. Find a way. Together.
Because that was what a real family did, and the four of them might be fucked up in a myriad of ways, but one thing they would always be was family.
“According to Tenos, the order from the Council should be coming down late this afternoon, so we want to be good and gone by then,” Keegan said.
Fuck. How could they leave without knowing where Lina was? Without at least saying good-bye?
He exchanged a glance with Ronin, the first time their eyes had truly met since yesterday’s blowout, and suddenly Dagan knew they weren’t leaving without her. Neither he nor Ronin would allow that to happen.
“We can try her apartment again,” he suggested to Ronin.
Ronin nodded with barely a moment’s hesitation. “Let’s go.”
While Ronin took a trip down to Keegan’s bedroom to tell Amara where they were going, Dagan played with his nephew. The little brat could already hold his head up, and it might just be in his imagination, but those eyes of Aegin’s—which, like the four of them, were a glowing shade of red with crimson around the pupils—seemed unusually observant for such a young child.
“This kid’s got skills,” he said to Keegan.
Keegan let out a chuckle. “You won’t get any argument from the proud father here.”
As Dagan handed the kid back to Keegan, his older brother said, “You know, you’d make a good dad.”
Dagan let out a choking laugh. “Like that would ever happen.”
“Well, too bad.” Keegan’s voice was soft as he cradled Aegin to his chest. Something about his tone made Dagan’s heart twist. Because he sounded like he meant it, like he really thought Dagan could be good for something other than partying and picking up chicks.
“Nah,” he said nonchalantly. “I’d screw a kid up way too badly. I’ll leave the child-rearing to you and Brynn.”
Before Keegan could respond, Ronin came striding into the living room. “Ready?”
“I’ll drive.”
After making their way downstairs, they hopped into Dagan’s sleek gray sports car and headed downtown. Ronin kept his gaze adverted the whole way, and a tense silence buffeted the cramped space. Not Dagan’s definition of a good time, but hell, it beat helplessly waiting at their apartment for word of Lina.
It was only once they’d arrived in the West Village and Dagan had muscled his way into a parking spot that he got up the nerve to broach the subject of Lina. “You know, Ronin, what happened with Lina—”