(BLUE'S POV)
I found Victor in the living room, sitting on the couch with Beau cradled carefully in his arms.
The toddler was fast asleep, his small chest rising and falling with peaceful breaths, his blonde hair catching the soft glow of the fireplace. Victor held him with a tenderness that seemed almost out of place on a being who was designed to be a cold-blooded killer.
"He wouldn't stop crying," Victor said, not looking up. "My grandma, your mother-in-law was trying to soothe him, but nothing worked. I took him, and he fell asleep immediately."
I walked over and looked down at my son.
My son.
The word still felt foreign on my tongue.
"Thank you," I said softly.
Victor shrugged. "He's my brother. It's my duty."
"He's not your—" I started, then stopped. "You know what? I'm not having this argument tonight."
Victor smiled, a rare expression that transformed his usually playful features. "Smart choice."
