I watched him closely, my chest tight with a mix of anger and fear.

I wanted to believe him, but the violence of his world was the very thing I had spent three years running from.

“You can’t just fight your way out of this, Adrian,” I said, my voice barely carrying across the empty space.

“They have the police, the courts, and the streets.”

He did not argue.

He sat down on the edge of the dusty moving blankets, his large frame looking completely out of place in the derelict warehouse.

Oliver whimpered, rubbing his eyes with a small, dirty fist.

Adrian reached out, his hand hesitating for a second before he gently patted Oliver’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Adrian said, his tone surprisingly soft and warm.

“I’m here. Nobody is going to hurt you.”

Oliver looked up at him, his small brow furrowed in confusion as he stared at the man who shared his gray eyes.

Then, slowly, Oliver leaned his head against Adrian’s knee.

My heart did a strange, painful flutter in my chest.