Brogan spent the next hour or so in a kind of fog, helped along only by the fact that Constable Higgs and Liam—who’d dropped his son Layne off with Jax—accompanied him to the hospital for the DNA and genetic tests necessary to prove the late Francis Hamilton was Peyton’s sire, and to prove to Brogan Peyton did not have Donal Syndrome.

Unfortunately, the genetic test took about twenty-four hours, so his friends escorted Brogan back to the Li house. Peyton wanted to play, so Brogan reluctantly put him down, then let Liam pull him into a long hug.

“He’ll be fine,” Liam whispered. “Believe in that, okay?”

Brogan clung to his friend, desperate to believe it. “What if Senior Hamilton comes after us?”

“Let him try. Ronin will tear him apart, just like he tore apart Mancini.”

Ronin Cross was a fierce defense attorney, and when Hank Mancini tried to claim custody of Liam and Layne last summer, Ronin had shredded the man in court. Slammed down every defense Mancini put up, and then dug up dirt that buried Mancini for good.

“Hopefully, it won’t come to that,” Higgs said. “If Francis is Peyton’s sire, then Senior Hamilton is going to have to explain how money that originated from his media company ended up in Lawry’s pocket three weeks after your heat produced a pregnancy with his heir. I know it’s hard not to wonder ‘what if?’ right now, Brogan, but first thing first. We need to get the DNA results before we can proceed.”

“I know,” Brogan replied. “I hate waiting. Not knowing. But if Peyton is a Hamilton, what’s the next step?”

“Building a case against Senior Hamilton and his company. If we can get a search warrant, we can scour their financials, just like we did Bellair, and look for any connection Hamilton had to Mad Dog, or any of the other sex trafficking rings we’ve shut down this year.”

“I hate that it’s been almost two years since you found us, and this is still going on.”

“So do I. None of us had any idea how big this thing was when Jax helped us find you. But I will not rest until I know for sure it’s been completely dismantled, down to the last man involved.”

“Thank you, Constable.”

Liam shot his mate an adoring smile.

Mate. I want Mikel.

“I need to call someone,” Brogan said. He patted himself down for his mobile, then spotted it on the couch.

“Are you calling Jaysan?” Liam asked.

“No, Mikel.”

“Who’s Mikel?”

Brogan turned to face the pair and squared his shoulders. “My bondmate.”

Liam squealed as loudly as his damaged voice allowed. “You met your bondmate? When? How am I just finding this out?”

“Because it’s complicated. We met a little over two weeks ago at Perks.”

“How’s that complicated?”

“My Mikel is the same Mikel who accidentally stabbed Jaysan this spring.”

Liam’s face fell. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not, which is why it’s complicated. But Jaysan forgave Mikel for the stabbing that Mikel still can’t forgive himself for.”

“Isn’t he on probation?” Higgs asked.

“Yes, and he’s in therapy, which is why we’re taking things slow. Really slow. We haven’t talked about actually mating yet, because it isn’t an option for two more months, and Mikel is more timid about this whole thing than I am. I’m practically chasing him.”

Liam’s flat expression twisted into an amused smirk. “Now that’s an interesting switch. The omega chasing the alpha. But are you sure you’re safe with him?”

“Beyond sure. Remember how you told me you felt when Isa found you in that little room? Instantly safe and protected? I feel that way with Mikel. He’d cut his own hand off before he hurt me.”

“In that case, I’m happy for you guys.” Liam hugged him again. “And if you need your bondmate to get you through this, then call him. Can I stay and meet him?”

“Sure. I was going to tell you and Kell during our play date this week, anyway.”

“I hate to say it, but I have to return to work,” Higgs said. “Brogan, as soon as you get the results, call.”

“I will.” Immediately after he sobbed with either relief or grief, depending on what the genetic test showed.

Liam walked his mate to the door, so Brogan took a moment to call Mikel.

Mikel answered after two rings. “Hey, I was just thinking about you,” he said, his voice stifled from his cold.

“Goddess, I forgot you were sick,” Brogan replied. “Oh, I’m so selfish.”

“What’s wrong? You sound off. Why are you selfish for calling me? It’s a cold, not a deadly illness.”

Deadly illness. Like Donal Syndrome.

Brogan completely lost it then, unable to finish the conversation. He doubled over crying, and Liam took the mobile. Said whatever, and then he was hugging Brogan tight. He whispered, “I’m here, I’ve got you,” over and over.

Over and over and over, until a new, deeper voice took over. A familiar, earthy scent surrounded him, followed by strong arms, a broad chest.

Mikel.

Brogan was vaguely aware of Peyton crying and Liam shushing him, but mostly he focused on getting through this bout of terror and grief—two emotions he hadn’t felt so deeply since his captivity.

“I’m here,” Mikel said. “Let me be strong for you, my omega. I’m here.”

My omega.

Those two simple words were like a balm on a savage burn, and they helped calm Brogan’s tears. He coughed and wheezed, until Mikel passed him tissues. It took a while to collect himself, and Mikel was waiting patiently for him to speak. Brogan wasn’t sure how he’d ended up seated on Mikel’s lap, with Mikel’s back against the couch, but the position was perfect. He leaned against Mikel’s chest and pressed his forehead into his neck. Inhaled his calming scent.

“What happened?” Mikel asked.

Liam hadn’t filled him in yet? Brogan wasn’t sure he had the words, so he simply clung to his bondmate while Liam gave Mikel a condensed version of today’s discoveries.

“Oh goddess,” Mikel said. He kissed Brogan’s temple. “I can’t imagine how scared you are. I’m so glad you called me.”

“Me too,” Brogan said, shocked at how wrecked his voice was. Raspy and barely there. “Need you.”

“You’ve got me, love. I’m right here.”

“Where’s Peyton?”

“I’ve got him,” Liam said. He brought Peyton over to the couch and squatted down. Peyton’s own face was red and unhappy, and he reached instinctively for Brogan.

“I don’t care who his sire is or isn’t,” Brogan said. “All I want is for that genetic test to be negative for Donal Syndrome.”

“I know,” Mikel replied. “We all want that.”

“I guess you met Liam.”

“Not officially.” The pair introduced themselves and shook hands. “I suppose Brogan explained who I am beyond the mating bond?”

“Yes,” Liam replied. “And if Jaysan forgave you, so do I. Especially seeing you with Brogan and Peyton. They have absolutely charmed you.”

“They have. I’d die before I hurt either of them.”

“I believe you.” Liam leaned in, dark eyes serious. “But FYI, my mate is a senior constable and knows where to hide bodies.”

Brogan grinned at the empty threat, thankful to have such a loyal friend.

“Heard and understood,” Mikel said.

“Good.” Liam looked at Brogan. “Do you want me to stay?”

“No, thank you, though,” Brogan replied. “For everything.”

“Not a problem. You guys were all there for me during the Mancini crisis. We’ll get through this as a group. Do you want me to let Jax and Jaysan know what’s going on?”

“Please? I don’t have the words today.”

“Of course.” Liam leaned in for a quick hug. “Take care of each other, and call if you guys need anything.”

“Thank you.”

Brogan snuggled closer to Mikel, with Peyton on his own lap, and they simply existed for a long time after Liam left. Peyton’s upset had stemmed from Brogan’s, and he seemed content to sit with his omegin and alpha, their mingling scents a calming influence on Brogan’s own mood.

“Do you need anything?” Mikel asked.

“I need Peyton to be okay.”

“He will be. No matter what the test says, we’ll make sure he’s okay. Just because there isn’t a cure today doesn’t mean there won’t be tomorrow. Or in a year. And he probably doesn’t even have it. Think how happy you’ll be tomorrow when you get the test results and he’s fine.”

Brogan kissed the top of Peyton’s head. “He has to be okay.”

“He will have the best life. I promise.”

More tears stung his eyes, but Brogan fought them off. Peyton squirmed, so Brogan let him go. He climbed over Brogan to stand next to Mikel, grabbed Mikel’s face, and said, “Dada!”

Mikel sucked in a sharp breath. “Hi, little man. I’m Mikel, remember?”

“Dada.”

“I didn’t teach him that,” Brogan said, a bit in awe of his boy’s intuition.

“Dada.”

Mikel’s heart flayed open at the innocent, insistent way Peyton called him Dada. The little boy was so fucking precious, and to think he could have a deadly disease coursing through his blood? No. No, even if he tested positive, Mikel would spend the rest of his life pursuing a cure for his boy.

Our boy.

He kissed Peyton’s forehead, and the little boy squealed with delight. “Dada. Come play,” Peyton said.

“Play with him,” Brogan said. “I need to wash my face. I feel like I was hit by a truck.”

As much as Mikel didn’t want Brogan out of his sight for a moment, he understood his omega needed a moment alone. “Whatever you need.”

Brogan stood with some wobbling, and as he wandered toward the hallway, Mikel knee-walked his way to Peyton’s play area.

From the moment Brogan had broken down over the phone, Mikel had been running at a hundred miles an hour. Finally arriving and holding Brogan in his arms had helped calm some of his raging anxiety, and then the explanation for his state had made it worse again. It had also compounded his rage—not only that Brogan’s rapist may have been identified, but that the alphahole had possible given Peyton a deadly disease.

Mikel didn’t know what else to do besides be present for his omega and their boy. And if playing with Peyton’s toys was what they both needed, then by goddess, he’d pick up a plastic horse and play.

Brogan was gone for enough time that Mikel began to worry. When he finally reappeared, though, he seemed more put together and focused, and Brogan went right into the kitchen. “Are you thirsty?” Brogan asked. “I need hot chocolate.”

“That sounds wonderful, thank you.”

“Hot chockat,” Peyton said.

“You get chocolate milk,” Brogan replied. “No hot stuff. Mikel, how’s your cold? Would you rather have tea?”

Mikel hadn’t given much thought to his stuffy nose and itchy throat since he’d arrived, and now he felt guilty for being within twenty feet of Peyton. “It’s not bad. The fever didn’t last long, so it’s probably a twenty-four-hour thing. Hot chocolate sounds perfect.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

While Brogan puttered around in the kitchen, Mikel watched Peyton play and soaked in every moment with the boy. He looked so much like his omegin it was uncanny, and Mikel was glad he didn’t look like his sire, whoever the man turned out to be. And if the test proved it was this Francis Hamilton character…well, the guy was lucky to be dead, because Mikel would have put the asshole in the ground for assaulting his mate during his most vulnerable time of the year.

Speaking of…Mikel stood and walked to the dining room table, putting himself halfway between Peyton and the kitchen. “May I ask a delicate question?”

Brogan smiled over his shoulder. “How about we make a promise to stop asking if we can ask questions? We’re bondmates. Personal things are going to come up and should probably be discussed. Hit me.”

Mikel flinched at the phrase. “When is your next heat due?”

“My last ended about six weeks ago, so less than two months.”

“And you’ve been, ah, managing them alright?” Mikel couldn’t stop the slight growl in his words.

Brogan looked up from the stove where he was heating a pot of milk. “I told you I haven’t been with anyone. There’s a new-ish, beta-run service that helps omegas through heats, and I’ve gone to them for my last three heats. Jaysan actually turned me on to the place.”

“Oh. Good. I mean, I’m glad you had help.”

Mikel had no room to be jealous if Brogan had enlisted alphas to knot him during heats, while wearing a condom, because Mikel hadn’t been celibate. He’d slept with more than one omega and even a few betas since he’d turned sixteen and entered his sexual prime. Some of them had been friends, but mostly they were fuck buddies, and not particularly special to him.

Not like Brogan.

Mine.

Brogan stirred cocoa into a cup of milk, added a lid, and handed the sippy cup off to Mikel, who dutifully delivered it to Peyton. Peyton demanded he stay and play, so Mikel sat beside him until Brogan brought Mikel’s cocoa. Brogan sat on the floor nearby with his own mug, and the whole thing was so fucking easy and domestic that Mikel yearned. Yearned for it all the time, not just for a few hours.

One day.

I want this and I’ll fight for it. I’ll fight my own fears and inner demons to have this family one day.

Brogan woke to the murmurs of voices nearby, and for the second time that day, woke from a nap on the couch. He didn’t remember lying down, but there he was, head on a pillow and a blanket draped up to his shoulders. He stretched and tracked the sound to the kitchen, where Mikel and Daiya were speaking in low tones. Mikel turned his head, looked directly at Brogan, and smiled.

Daiya noticed. “I hear you’ve had a rough day,” he said to Brogan.

“Understatement.” His head pounded as he sat up, and he let out a low groan. “Uh. What time is it?”

“Almost six,” Mikel replied, somehow right by Brogan’s side with a glass of ice water. “Here. Do you need some ibrospirin?”

“I don’t think so. Thank you.” He sipped the water. His mouth was sticky after drinking his cocoa. They’d played with Peyton for a while and then…he must have passed out. Today had been emotionally exhausting. “Where’s Peyton?”

“Yeoman is changing him in his room.”

“Oh. So everyone knows?”

Mikel nodded, his eyes both concerned and determined. “I explained it. We’re all here for you, no matter what.”

“We are,” Daiya said. “All we want is what’s best for both of you.”

“Omi’s awake!” Peyton dashed into the room a little too fast for his short legs. He tripped over his own feet, and Mikel dove forward, swooping him up before he fell on his face. Plopped him down on the couch next to Brogan.

“Careful there, little man,” Mikel said.

“Little man,” Peyton parroted. “Dada’s a hero.”

“Dada?” Yeoman asked from the mouth of the hallway.

“He started it himself,” Mikel replied. “And I’m not a hero, I just kept you from face-planting on the floor. No ouchie.”

Peyton laughed as he slid down off the couch with a little help from Mikel, apparently off on a new mission. Brogan adored how resilient his boy was and how quickly Mikel had stepped in to prevent an accident. He pressed his shoulder against Mikel’s. “Thank you for being here. Staying here when I apparently passed out from mental exhaustion.”

“It’s no trouble, love,” Mikel whispered. “I wish I could take this pain and worry from you and carry it myself. I hate seeing you suffer, and not just because of the bond, or because you’re an omega in pain. It’s because you’re you, Brogan Dale.”

Mikel pulled him into a hug, and Brogan went willingly. “I wish I could go to sleep and wake up tomorrow, after I’ve been told Peyton doesn’t have Donal Syndrome.”

“I know. I’d take you right there if I could. All I want is for you and Peyton to be safe and happy, always.”

“Thank you.”

“Not to interrupt,” Yeoman said, “but who’s for ordering pizza for dinner? It’s a bit late to cook.”

“Oh crap.” Brogan went rigid. “I didn’t cook anything.”

“You know you don’t have to cook every night. It’s been a while since we’ve had pizza. Any requests? Mikel?”

“Oh.” Mikel hadn’t expected to be included. “Anything’s fine with me, I’m not picky.”

“How about a meat lover’s?” Brogan said. “I could put away some spicy meat and cheese.”

“Sounds great,” Yeoman replied. “I’ll call it in. Cheese-y breadsticks, too.”

“With extra dipping sauce?”

“You got it.”

Brogan rarely asked for anything special from his guardians, but today felt like a great excuse for an extra treat. And he loved how quickly they’d accepted Mikel as part of their lives. Daiya turned on the television, and they all watched a game show until the food arrived. Then they ate in the living room on paper plates, Brogan cuddled up close to Mikel on the couch, like they did this every night.

I want that so much.

Not yet, but soon. He and Mikel both wanted a future together, but first, Mikel needed to be ready, and that meant more time. Mikel still had three and a half months of probation and mandatory therapy left. Brogan also had a heat coming in less time than that, so they’d have to make a decision about mating then, or wait for his next heat in late spring.

Those were conversations for another day. They both had too much to think about today, and so much hung on tomorrow’s test results. For now, Brogan concentrated on pizza, friendship, and extra cuddles from Peyton.

The rest was out of his hands.