“You’ll be safe here, Caleb. I promise.”
The boy gave him another nod, still a bit uncertain. And no wonder. The hell he’d lived through--the terror of what happened to his parents--it wasn’t going to leave him anytime soon. Possibly never.
Brock wished his Breed ability for taking away pain extended beyond basic humans. God knew Caleb could use help purging some of the shock and grief that still radiated from his small frame.
The best anyone could do for the orphaned kid right now was make him comfortable until they could find a relative or someone else to come claim him.
Although leaving him in the city to fend for himself had been out of the question, the last thing Brock or anyone else at headquarters needed right now was a foundling in need of a home and family.
Jax drove into the underground garage and parked the vehicle.
Brock glanced at him. “Give me a few minutes to drop Caleb with Jenna, then we can head back out to rejoin the patrols.”
Jax nodded. “No problem.”
Brock helped Caleb out of the vehicle and led him into the command center. He probably should have called ahead to warn Jenna he was bringing the kid, but she wasn’t the type to balk at helping someone in need. Especially a child. After losing her six-year-old daughter, Libby, long before she and Brock met, Jenna had an extra-soft spot for children.
“Who’s Jenna?” Caleb asked as he walked the corridor at Brock’s side.
“She’s my mate.”
The boy nodded, then peered up at him in question. “Do you have any kids?”
“No, but not for lack of practice.”
Caleb’s face scrunched. “What do you mean?”
Brock smiled. “Never mind.”
They paused in the hallway outside the archives room, Jenna’s natural habitat. The door was open, but when Brock peered inside she was nowhere to be seen.
“She must be in our quarters up at the residence.” Brock put his hand around Caleb’s thin shoulders. “Come on, it’s this way.”
Brock attempted casual conversation with the boy as they took the elevator up to the mansion at street level. Caleb’s answers were short and somewhat shy, but at least some color had come back into his cheeks since his feeding. After a bath and fresh clothes, he’d smell a hell of a lot better too.
“Hang on for a second,” Brock told the kid once they had reached the door to the quarters he and Jenna shared. “I just want to give her a heads-up before I make the introductions, okay?”
“Okay,” Caleb said.
Brock opened the door and stepped inside. “Hey, Jen?”
No reply.
“Babe, you in here?” He walked through the living area, his steps quickening as a prickle of unease skated over his senses. “Jenna?”
He found her on their bed, sound asleep.
Except, something about the stillness of her body--and her lack of response when he called out to her--turned that gnawing unease into full-blown alarm.
“Jenna.”
He was at her side in a flash of movement. She was breathing shallowly, yet steadily.
Alive, but unconscious.
Brock lifted her hand to his lips, the warmth of her a small relief when she was lying there as motionless and silent as a corpse.
“Wake up, Jenna.” He shook her gently, then with more force. And still no response. “Come on, angel. Please, wake up.”
