The Darkest Hour Before Dawn

by H M Wolfe

  "Last time I talked to Daniel, he was determined to get Philip Winters arrested for assaulting Gabriel, but I haven't heard from him since then. Anyway, we would need rock-solid evidence if we want to put the other fucker behind bars for good." Brennan's eyes darkened and narrowed to two slits."Good luck with that." Lothier shook his head skeptically. "From what you've told me, the guy doesn't seem the type who confesses his sins."

  "That's it! Dude, you are a genius." Ardan's brother hugged The Base's chief of security. "I may have an idea about how to make good old Fabian confess everything."

  "Daniel, stop it." Tarquin let out a small, exasperated sigh, while his husband was checking his look in the mirror wall for the hundredth time over the last half an hour. "You look impeccable; there's no way Jeroen won't like you."

  "I want to create a positive impression from the start." The black-haired man plopped on the bed, running a hand through his perfectly combed and styled hair, much to the blond's amusement. "If I look sloppy, my son will think that I don't care very much about him, and..."

  "My love, listen to me." Tarquin crouched in front of Daniel, taking the man's hands between his own. "Your kind eyes and a gentle voice will capture Jeroen's heart from the start, and there's no need to worry about that. You are the greatest father in the world, and that kid will feel your inborn tenderness the second you start talking to him."

  "You know, sometimes, you give me more credit than I deserve." Daniel smiled, caressing his husband's cheek. "Thank you for always being there when I need it the most, and for sticking with me through thick and thin."

  "I'll always have your back." Tarquin tenderly kissed the other man on the lips. "Now, it's time for us to go downstairs and be there when Brennan and Jeroen arrive. Not greeting him yourself will make a very negative impression on your son, don't you think?"

  Daniel nodded in approval, stood up and left the room, arm in arm with his husband. Five minutes later, he was comfortably installed in his favorite spot. It offered a panoramic view of the driveway and the front yard. Affection, impatience, guilt, happiness, sadness, and a thousand other emotions were washing over him as he stood there, waiting for the car that would bring Jeroen to the mansion. This time not as a guest, but as his son.

  His son. Daniel couldn't stop wondering what the teen was like, what hobbies and dreams did he have. There were so many things the man wanted to know. So many questions to ask, to which he didn't know if the boy would want to answer. Maybe, his heart ached at the thought, and the kid wouldn't believe that he'd suffered from amnesia and would accuse him of not caring, of not giving a damn.

  "Don't worry. Everything will be fine; you'll see," Tarquin's sweet voice brought Daniel back from his not-so-happy thoughts. "Here they are." He pointed to the car that was stopping at the end of the driveway in front of them.

  "Welcome to our home, Jeroen," Daniel greeted the white-haired teen, two minutes later, his eyes shining with undisguised paternal affection. "Thank you," he whispered in Brennan's direction, gratitude written all over his face.

  "So, I've been told you wanted to talk to me," the white-haired kid started to talk after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. "I'm here, so let's talk."

  "Please, do sit down." Daniel indicated the large, cozy couch next to his armchair. "Have you made any progress with your search? The first time you came here, you mentioned something about finding out who your father was."

  "No, unfortunately, things are getting in the way of it." Jeroen's deep-blue eyes clouded with sadness. "However, I've heard that the piece of shit who was engaged to Gabriel had an important role in the experiments. I find it hard to believe it, though, he was very young back then."

  "The bastard has continued his wretched father's work, and I was one of his victims," Brennan intervened. "However, the old man was far more heinous, and he showed greater enthusiasm in torturing the innocent, including your father. Despite the hell he was put through, that brave man survived and is here today to tell his story, if you'll give him this chance."

  "My father, the one who gave me birth, is alive and present in this room?" Jeroen's eyes widened, and, for a few good seconds, he was unable to react in any way. "It's you, isn't it?" The boy pointed a shaky finger to Daniel.

  The man couldn't keep his emotions under control and rose to his feet. It took him forever to cover the few steps between the armchair and the couch, and when he finally reached there, plopped down on the edge, staying like that for what it seemed an eternity. He just stared into the boy's eyes, so much like his own, lips silent, but heart speaking volumes.

  Letting out a long breath, Daniel fluttered his arms around Jeroen, without daring to touch him, afraid that the boy would reject him. Indeed, the teenager seemed lost, confused, somewhat troubled, even, but it was only for a split second. Closing the space between him and his father, the kid put his head on the man's chest, inhaling deeply.

  His scent had a magical effect on Jeroen, and it made him feel like a little child, innocent and carefree, raised in a loving home, without his guardian's shadow looming menacingly from everywhere. Daniel felt the boy melting into his tentative embrace, and he wrapped him tightly, protectively with one arm, caressing the snow-white strands of slightly wavy hair with the other. The teen was an atypical Bloom, but he was one, nonetheless. His son, his poor, long-forgotten baby boy.

  "Tell me that this is not a dream, that you are my father, and you are alive," Jeroen finally spoke, tears streaming down his face.

  "I'm your father. I survived hell, and you are not dreaming, my precious son." Daniel wiped off the tears with the silk handkerchief from the pocket of his vest. "I'm not going anywhere, and I hope you are here to stay." He planted a paternal kiss on the boy's forehead.

  "I'm going to stay. This is my home, the triplets and Gabriel are my brothers, and you, sir, are my father. If you want me, that is." Jeroen turned to Tarquin, smiling shyly.

  CHAPTER 27

  "O f course we want you." The blond took a seat next to Jeroen, kissing him on the top of his head. "I'd always dreamed of having a big family, and, when I married your father, my dream came true."

  "Speaking of, I've only visited the mansion once or twice, and it was pretty quiet around here. However, the guys told me that there are a lot of small kids in the family. I'd like to know something about them," the teen spoke shyly.

  "Well, you have two sisters, Margot and Salome. They're twins, and their cousin Sophia, who was born on the same day," Daniel started, smirking. "Those three are the undisputed queens of the castle, protectors of the younger children and all creatures, big and small. It will be your duty to help them feed the numerous kitties, bunnies, ducklings, turtles, and other species they've collected from the Gods know where."

  "They sound adorable, especially the part about the little animals." Jeroen smiled affectionately, taking a more comfortable position. "I'm sure we will get along very well," he continued in a confident voice. "What about the others? Growing up in solitude, with no friendly faces around, wasn't the easiest thing, and I want to meet all my cousins."

  "Oh, if that's the case, brace yourself for a very long list," Tarquin grinned cutely. "Daniel's cousin Martin Cornelius has two children, Liam-Fabian and Evelyn. Liam has the twins, Desmond and Nigel, plus Carrie-Louise, my sister Maxine's daughter. Peyton and Ezra have Christopher-Benjamin. Then there's Simone, Hugo, and Regina's daughter; Colin, Ariana's son, who's thirteen; Kieran, Ava's only child, the same age as his cousin; and last but not least, Quinlan's son Bruno, plus all the babies."

  "Whoa, that's impressive." Jeroen's eyes were shining with childish enthusiasm. "So many siblings and cousins, I feel like I've hit the jackpot. My childhood wasn't happy at all, although I had everything I needed: shelter, food, clothes, books, private tutors. Everything, except friends and freedom."

  In a sad, low voice, Jeroen started to tell the three men about the oppressive, unwelcoming atmosphere in the house he grew up in. Everything around him was blea
k, the walls of the bedroom and study painted in a light tone of blue-grey, the furniture black or dark-grey.

  There wasn't the smallest accessory indicating that it was inhabited by a child: no pastel-colored curtains or carpets, no stuffed animals, or any of the cute things decorating the room of a little boy or girl. Those objects were for the weak and retarded; his guardian harshly replied to his request to have them. He was reminded to behave; otherwise, all his privileges would be permanently revoked.

  The house had a small backyard, Jeroen continued in a low, sad voice, where he was allowed to spend one hour every day. There weren't any flowers or trees growing there, only weeds, the whole yard having a depressing, unkempt appearance. One of the rooms was turned into a gym, where he exercised for another hour daily.

  Over time, Jeroen recalled, his guardian's attitude changed substantially, from ignoring or dismissive to excessively attentive, especially over the last three years or so. The man always asked him if he needed anything special, but became angry when the boy's answer was the same: more freedom, the truth about his birth father and the company of kids his age.

  "My poor, sweet child, you've suffered so much!" Daniel hugged the teen to his chest, holding him tight. "But that gloomy period is over now, and you'll soon have plenty of happy memories to replace the sad ones with."

  "I still can't believe this is real," Jeroen said in a faraway voice, closing his eyes. "Somewhere in the corner of my mind, I expect to wake up in that ugly house, and cry my heart out, discovering that everything that has happened over the past few months was just a dream."

  "That won't happen." Brennan waved his hand, smiling reassuringly. "I know the feeling, I've been there, too. Sometimes, I still can't believe that I have a protective, loving older brother, an intelligent, feisty brother-in-law, and all these wonderful friends, but it's true. After a while, you'll get used to it, like I did." The young man smiled.

  The ringing of Daniel's phone put an abrupt stop to the conversation, and the man frowned because the caller's ID didn't look familiar. "Hello," he said, "Daniel Bloom here. What can I do for you?"

  "I called to congratulate you," the man's voice from the other end of the line spoke, irony dripping from it. "Isn't this one of the happiest days of your life? Your second-born son is with you now, nothing else matters. Or does it?"

  "Who's speaking? Look, if this is your idea of a joke..." Daniel started, then put the phone on speaker, after reading the note Brennan wrote on a small piece of paper.

  "So many kids are playing outside, with only three or four adults to supervise them," the voice continued, "tsk, tsk, that must be very hard. What if one of those children, an adorable blond, curly-haired boy, got lost in the woods and fell prey to the big, bad wolf? A retarded little shit, who can't tell his right hand from the left one?"

  "Elian! Bastard, what did you do to him?" Daniel roared, consumed by anger and fear at the same time. "If you harm him in any way..."

  "Name your price, you psychotic fuck," Brennan coldly spoke. "I know it is us you're really after, so let the child go."

  "I don't know who you are," the voice spoke again, "and I don't talk to strangers, especially about family matters, like this one. Now, I will give you an address, Daniel Bloom, and I want you to come there with the papers of the Bloom, MacAlister and Van Sloot estate. Also, I want you to contact Giuseppe Fenelli and tell him to appoint you as his sole heir in a valid will. You have three hours to collect the documents and come to the indicated address."

  "Uncle Daniel, I'm scared. It's so dark in here, and I'm cold," Elian's voice made the three men flinch, bringing tears to their eyes.

  "Hang on, sweetheart. We are coming to take you home very soon," Tarquin answered as calm as he could. "Until then, behave and listen to the person who is with you, okay, honey?"

  "Don't forget, three hours, no more, or the little retarded waste of space will have to deal with the consequences." The line went silent, leaving the three men in shock for a good minute.

  However, they soon realized there was no time to lose, and started to work on a plan. Eugene and Elliott shouldn't, under any circumstance, find out that Elian was being held by a lunatic who was threatening to harm him. Getting in touch with Don Giuseppe was also out of the question, because the old mafioso was no fool, and he would suspect something was wrong.

  At that point, Brennan realized that keeping things to himself would only make the situation worse. Turning to Tarquin and Daniel, who were messaging people, he cleared his throat.

  "I have to tell you something, even if I know it will cost me your friendship, and most likely, my brother Ardan will turn his back on me, too. I was afraid that the information I'm going to share would tear your family apart, sparking a war within it, but that's not the case anymore."

  A few hours earlier

  Out of his dreams of power, fortune, and fame straight into this goddamn nightmare, Fabian thought, groaning in frustration. Philip Winters had ended up in jail, accused of assaulting that damn boy Gabriel, and it was only a matter of time before that goddamn special prosecutor makes him betray his allies.

  If that happens, it will be just a matter of days until that detested Ian Saint-Clair would have him in the grip of his iron claws. Fabian was boiling in helpless anger, clenching and unclenching his fists, imagining the diabolical grin of satisfaction on the special prosecutor's face when he cross-examines him.

  The worst part was that his dear Uncle Alastair and his boy toy were traveling around the world, on a second honeymoon, and the old man had left explicit instructions not to be disturbed in any way. Fabian shut his eyes tightly, cursing the man's stubbornness and his endurance. Anyone else who had been subjected to the rough treatment the Duke of Sandrigham had applied to his young husband would have been dead in a few years.

  But not Alastair-bloody-Stark, he had to live and protect those two little snots, Benjamin and Sebastian, fighting tooth and nail to secure their share of the Bloom fortune. In contrast, Fabian had to play the perfect nephew and protective, responsible older brother. The man felt anger rising inside him, and made a great effort to keep it under control. At that moment, more than ever, he had to keep his calm.

  Plopping down on the big, comfortable office chair, he closed his eyes, inhaling sharply. In moments like this, Fabian missed his ex-wife, Adele, the most. He hadn't loved the woman, because he didn't know the meaning of that word, but he had immense respect for her judgment and education. The man had trusted his wife a great deal, asking for her opinion in almost every important matter.

  Adele was one of the greatest strategists he had ever met in the more than thirty-five years he'd worked in the US Army. Clarity of thinking, a sharp mind, the capacity to adjust to any circumstance were only some of her qualities Fabian appreciated. Martin Cornelius took after his mother, the man thought, feeling a great satisfaction.

  Unfortunately, Adele hadn't been a part of his life for more than five years since she'd filed for divorce. At that point, the man felt the anger rising inside him again. But it wasn't directed at the woman, he understood and even approved of her. It was the little retarded prick, the one Fabian blamed for how things had ended up between him and his wife.

  Suddenly, the man opened his eyes, the hyena-like smile spreading on his face, which borrowed the ferocious expression of a predator. There was still time, he thought, to win back everything that was taken from him, including Adele's affection and trust. Things could be like before, even better, with minimal effort on his part.

  The plan was perfect, and no one would suspect anything. Fabian relaxed into the chair, hands folded behind his head. Nobody would suspect anything. He would be everybody's hero, and all his dreams would come true. The Bloom estate, or a good part of it, would be presented to him on a silver platter, and he would have his dear Uncle Alastair's eternal gratitude. No, not would, will, the man thought, taking the phone and starting to dial a number.

  CHAPTER 28

  The afternoo
n of the same day

  "D id you bring the documents?" Fabian cracked the apartment's door, casting a suspicious look in the direction of the man standing in front of it. "You can come inside," he continued in a rough voice when the potential visitor brought a suitcase into sight.

  "I got everything in here, as requested." Daniel carefully placed the suitcase on the desk, then turned around to face his host. "Uncle Fabian, is that you?" He gasped in shock at the sight of the man.

  "Keep your bloody voice down," the other one exclaimed, backhanding his nephew with such force, that he sent him to the floor. "Stand the hell up and strip, I have to do a body search on you," he spat. "You think that being married to a computer genius makes you smart, too, huh?"

  "I have nothing to hide," Daniel protested, starting to undress. Things had gone downhill faster than anticipated, and he had to find a way to slow them down. "Maybe you would like to check the papers, see if they are valid," he suggested, the cold air and lack of clothes making him shiver.

  "Oh, look at you," Fabian spoke, in the same irony-laced voice he used on the phone, a few hours earlier, "all shaky, but wanting to control me. Well, sonny boy, I have news for you: I'm the one who controls things here, do you understand me?"

  "Yes, sir." Daniel nodded, trying to appease the beast. His uncle was unquestionably unhinged, and he had to be very careful with what he said or did around him. "May I ask you a question?"

  "Yes, you may." Fabian strode towards his nephew, roughly touching him on the chest and abdomen. "This is your opportunity to ask me whatever you want to know because you will take the answers to your grave. This, sonny boy, is the last day of your pathetic life, and I suggest you use these couple of hours as wisely as you can."

  "Why do you hate my father and me so much?" Daniel's voice was shaky and filled with sadness as he tried not to let the other one how much his words earlier affected him.