My pulse raced. “Disappear? Damian, what exactly do you mean?”
He averted his gaze. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No. No, I’m glad you trust me with this. Have you told your dad? Or the police?”
“Mother has friends who are the police. Some are her clients.” His voice was weary, much older than his years. “She’s working with ‘Mad’ Mike Marino. The Piranha. Heard of him?”
I blew out a low whistle, dread sinking deeper into my bones. Mike Marino was a name that carried weight in the courtrooms—always spoken in low voices, never far from a rumor. He was the mobster who trafficked the worst narcotics, and, if the whispers were true, human lives. No one had ever proved it.
“Holy shit. He’s partnering with your mother? Does your dad know?”
“Yeah. He’s onto it, quietly. He’s got cop friends too, and Angelo Lucciano—the mafia boss. Mike and Mother don’t like Angelo because he’s their competition in the mob world. I overheard him and Dad talking once. Angelo hates Mom using people.”
“Wow,” I whispered, squeezing Damian’s hand. “You know way too much.”
A sly, secretive smile pulled at the corner of his lips, and he pressed one finger to them. “That’s why I keep quiet. For now. Someday I’ll tell you everything. I want to stop it all. Be a super hero.”
For a brief moment, a shadow flickered across his face—darkness, too deep for a boy his age—but I blinked, and it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
I steadied myself, lowering my voice. “You shouldn’t be dealing with this alone. You’re a hero already, Damian.”
“Then why can’t I be with you and Dad all the time? Not just half the time.”
“Your mother travels a lot, doesn’t she?” I pressed. “Stay with us until she calls you back. You belong here, Damian. With us.”
A genuine smile broke across his face. “Yes, Mom.”
The word made my heart swell.
Mom.
I’d do anything to keep him safe. If I could, I’d claim him as my own in every way that counted, including adoption, no hesitation. Saira didn’t deserve a son like Damian. I’d talk to Alistair. Whatever it took, we’d fight harder to gain full custody of him. We’ll appeal the judge’s decision for joint custody. Damian belonged with us.
I gave his hand another squeeze. “So, how’s school?”
He shrugged with exaggerated teenage resignation. “Dad’s got me learning Mandarin now. Wants me ‘worldly’ enough for his empire.”
I grinned knowingly. “Want me to tell him to ease up?”
“Nah,” Damian smirked. “It’s fine. I like languages. I prefer math, though.”
“Sure about that?” I teased.
He ran a restless hand through his hair, grinning. “Yeah. Hey, Mom? Will you come to my volleyball game? It’s in a few weeks.”
I tapped his wrist, grinning. “When the team captain personally invites me? Wouldn’t miss it. Anyone special you’re trying to impress lately?”
Damian scoffed, eyes rolling. “When would I have time for dating? Volleyball, math club, student council, martial arts?”
I laughed, a rich burst that pulled at my stitches, making me wince. “I almost pity you. But trust me, someday you’ll thank your dad. He loves you.”
He tried not to smile, but it snuck out anyway. “Maybe. I met a girl once. Really pretty. Saw her and… I don’t know, my brain just kinda glitched.”
“Like you couldn’t catch your breath?”
Damian groaned, cheeks flushed scarlet. “Geez, Mom. Yeah. Awkward.”
I squeezed his hand. “Feelings are awkward. They make us stupid, but sometimes in a nice way. You might see her again someday.”
