The Darkest Hour Before Dawn

by H M Wolfe

  "No, it involves me ripping your arm off and beating you with it, then skinning you alive, then you taking the images down," the answer came in the calmest voice.

  "I...I'll do it in a minute, let me get to a laptop or computer, and I'll fix that," Clark stuttered, a terrified expression on his face.

  "Let's go." Brennan gestured to the door. "I happen to know where to find a computer." He glanced in Eren's direction, who nodded in approval.

  The threats must have affected the kid very much, because he finished the task in a few minutes, checking twice to see if the images had disappeared from the sites. Not seeing any reason to stay there after completing his mission, the man left the house, making Clark and his friends sigh in relief.

  After a short internal debate, Brennan decided to spend the night at the mansion, in the guest room across from the master bedroom. Not that Daniel would need his help. The man only rarely used crutches anymore, but he wanted to let the triplets know everything was taken care of. The long-haired boy with a snow leopard as a pet and Ardan's twin sons were all bunked together for a sleepover, so the whole bunch was probably still awake.

  To Brennan's great surprise, all the lights in the kids' room windows were off, but he still tiptoed into Julien's room, slipping a note under his pillow. The man stopped for a moment, examining the sleeping teen, then, out of an impulse he couldn't understand, brushed aside the curls covering the boy's forehead, planting an innocent kiss on it.

  Suddenly very tired, Brennan went to his room, changed for the night, and slid under the covers, but sleep was elusive. Instead, he felt how his enemies were silently surrounding him from everywhere, their outstretched hands ending in claws grabbing at his neck, arms, and legs, making it impossible for him to move.

  A heavy hand brutally covered his mouth, muffling his screams and cries for help, while the other hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, holding his head up and making him watch the horrifying scene happening before his eyes. The screams of the man and woman the monsters were torturing pierced his eyes, while their eyes begged him not to move or scream, at least not in the presence of the beasts.

  Gathering all the energy in his body, Brennan kicked his enemies, holding his feet, and managing to get out of their steel grip. He then bit the hand clasped over his mouth, suffocating him. A high-pitched, terrified sound escaped from his chest, tearing through the silence of the room and chasing the attackers away.

  Moments later, the door opened, Daniel barging inside, slightly limping, Tarquin hot on his heels. Without a word, the black-haired man wrapped his hands around Brennan, who was sobbing uncontrollably, while the blond discreetly left the room.

  "Shh, no one can hurt you, I'll keep you out of harm's way," Daniel whispered in the younger man's ear, rocking him back and forth. "You're safe under this roof." He rubbed circles on the Brennan's back, soothing him.

  "They made me watch while...those men hurt them very badly, and then...I can't tell you that I'm sorry, I just can't. No one will believe me, but that's the truth, I swear by their memory." The young man stopped talking, staring ahead of him, a neutral expression replacing the terror from earlier.

  "Here you go, drink up. You'll feel much better after this." Tarquin stepped into the room again, a steaming mug in hand. "It's just some herbal tea that will make you sleep and rest well," he explained, seeing the distrustful look in Brennan's eyes.

  "That tea has magical powers," Daniel explained in a sweet, soft voice. "It brought me and my soulmate together. And it really helps you to relax."

  Eventually, the young man accepted the mug with a nod and started to drink from it one sip at a time, enjoying the aroma of the hot liquid. After a short while, his eyelids started to become heavy, sleep overtaking him shortly after. The two men stayed until he was soundly asleep, then left the room, closing the door behind them.

  Brennan woke up at the crack of dawn, completely relaxed, well-rested and refreshed, just how Tarquin said. Laying in bed, hands under his head, eyes closed, he made his final decision: he was going to take Fabian down, exposing all his evil deeds to the press, even if that cost him his freedom. The problem was he didn't know anyone who could introduce him to someone working for a prominent newspaper or news channel.

  The expression of disappointment on Brennan's face was quickly replaced by relief as he remembered about Peyton, his sweet, caring friend at The Base, whose permanently absent husband, Ezra, worked as an investigative journalist before becoming the coordinator for President Danvers's press staff.

  The thought gave Brennan wings, and he completed his morning routine, a quick shower included, in record time. After knocking at the door three times in a row, the young man stepped in Daniel and Tarquin's bedroom to see if his help was required, as he did every morning. A smile of satisfaction brightened both husbands' faces at the sight of him.

  "I see you are much better this morning, and it makes me very happy," Tarquin was the first to speak. "I take it the tea had the desired effect."

  "Yes, indeed." Brennan slightly blushed in embarrassment, remembering how he initially refused the tea. "I want to go to The Base, and I wanted to see if you need any help first." He looked in Daniel's direction.

  "No, thank you, I'll be fine." The black-haired man smiled. "When you get there, will you please remind whoever you run into to spread the word about this evening's party here at the mansion? We messaged everyone last night, but, you know, just in case someone didn't get the text."

  "It will be my pleasure." Brennan nodded, then headed downstairs, wondering about Daniel's sudden change of attitude towards his son's engagement with a man both he and Tarquin detested.

  One sandwich and half an hour later, the man arrived at his destination, but instead of heading to the enclosed area, he parked his car in front of the relatively small, but elegant and welcoming house Peyton and their children lived in. The door was cracked open, so Brennan stepped inside, a whine of protest guiding him to the nursery room.

  There, he was greeted by the always smiling Alexis. Who lay on their back in the crib and stared at the mobile. Meanwhile, Selma was giving her parent the daily dose of hell, writhing on the changing table and pouting, resisting Peyton's heroic efforts of getting her dressed in one of the cutest onesies ever.

  "Wow, just in time!" Peyton's face brightened at the newcomer's sight. "You are a real lifesaver, and I'm grateful to whoever sent you my way," they started, a light blush creeping up their face.

  "Stop sweet-talking me and take care of the little Miss Sassypants over there while I fix this champion's breakfast." Brennan grinned, collecting the items he needed. "I have to ask you something after that, and a possible favor to ask.

  "Anything for you." Peyton nodded, finally managing to get baby Selma into the onesie. "I have many friends here, but, for some reason, I felt connected to you from the first moment we met."

  "Thank you very much, that means more to me than you can imagine," Brennan said in a gratitude-filled, thick voice. "I need to get in touch with a trustworthy journalist, working for a reputable news channel, website, or newspaper. Also, your husband worked as an investigative journalist; and I want to talk to him if possible."

  "What does a man have to do to get a cup of the host's signature coffee?" a man's voice, rugged and deep, but warm, asked, making Peyton widen their eyes in surprise.

  "Leon, when did you come back?" they asked the solidly-built, long-haired man who stepped into the nursery, a broad smile making his deep-brown eyes shine. "You've been greatly missed," they continued, throwing themselves into the stranger's arms.

  "I missed you, too, kid." The man wrapped his big, strong arms around Peyton's slim form. "All of you," he continued, looking around the room, in search of little Christopher Benjamin. "Who the hell are you?" his voice became harsh and cold.

  CHAPTER 20

  "G ood morning, little angels, and you, my beautiful, beloved soulmate," a black-haired, blue-eyed man in his mid-twenties gently spoke, as he
walked into the nursery. "Leon, Leon, Leon, I missed you like crazy," he said in a thick, shaky voice, as the unexpected guest enveloped him too in his warm embrace.

  "Ezra, little brother, you work like an ox and a dog combined, as Donna Rosa says." The man ran his flat palm up and down Peyton's husband's back. "Look at you. The Spitfire is right when he calls you bony ass. Speaking of, I was about to beat this intruder's butt and kick him the hell out of here," his voice became hostile again.

  "Um...he's not an intruder." Peyton cleared their throat. "Ezra, Leon, allow me to introduce you to my good friend Brennan. He's the one who's helped Daniel recover after the accident, Elian's second-best friend and Quinlan's protector."

  "In that case, I'm humbly asking for your forgiveness, and I'm honored to call you my friend." Leon extended his hand, lowering his head. "These guys are the younger siblings I never had, and only the thought that someone could harm them..."

  "No hard feelings." Brennan took the man's hand, giving it a vigorous shake. "I understand you perfectly; I would have reacted the same if I was you."

  "My friend here could use some help, and you are the right man for the job," Peyton started to talk, looking into Leon's dark-brown eyes. "Or you can at least point him in the right direction."

  "Sure, what's it about?" the tall, long-haired man asked, examining Brennan with undisguised curiosity. "You are Quinlan's friend, and this alone recommends you as a good man, so I'll do everything in my power to help you."

  "I need the name of a good investigative journalist, someone reckless and crazy enough to dig up a double homicide case dating seven years back. Also, I have some compromising stuff on a certain hotshot Washington official with an important position inside the Department of Defense. I want to expose him as a murderer and a fraud, and I need to be sure things won't be hushed up."

  "Peyton is right." Leon smiled. "I'm the one who can and will help you with all this. You see, my boss owns a multi-billion dollar media company, and he would be thrilled to lend you a hand."

  Brennan looked at the man in front of him, debating if he could be trusted or not. He didn't know yet what the relationship between Peyton's husband and Fabian was. If the two were on good terms, he doubted very much that Leon would do something that could hurt the one he considered his younger brother.

  Besides, most of the media tycoons Brennan knew about were involved in all kinds of power games and schemes. If Leon worked for one of those shady characters, even if he didn't know his boss's true nature, his evidence could be destroyed, and the whole story buried instead of it being brought to light.

  A fleeting glance in the man's direction made Brennan shiver, erasing all his doubts in a blink of an eye. He was holding the twins in his arms, cooing at them and making funny faces, his face radiating affection, gentleness, and protectiveness. No, Leon wouldn't, under any circumstances, defend Fabian, he'd rather rip that bastard's throat out.

  "Who...what's the name of your boss?" Brennan hesitantly spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "Sorry, but I need to know if I can..."

  "I have the immense privilege of working for a man of great integrity. His name is Eugene Boorman," the answer came in a thick voice, filled with pride and respect. "My honorable boss will help you expose that vile person and make him pay for the crimes he's committed."

  "A...are you kidding me? Are you really working for the guy who built a media empire from scratch and is not afraid of anything or anyone? The same Eugene Boorman who uncovered so many mind-blowing scandals and exposed a lot of politicians and businesspersons as corrupt?"

  Leon was about to reply when a noise coming from the entrance got his attention. A minute later, the nursery was invaded by a group of teens, none others than the five blonds, Ardan's twin sons, the boy with the feline, and the white-haired kid. "We missed you so much." Elliott's sons hugged the man. "How's everyone in Detroit?"

  "Your fathers are here for the party Daniel and Tarquin are throwing tonight, and your younger siblings stayed home with your grandparents." Leon smiled happily, running his fingers through Aidan's thick, rebellious curls.

  "Brennan!" Julien exclaimed, throwing himself in the young man's arms. "Thank you for everything," he whispered, putting his head on the other one's broad chest.

  "Don't mention it, kiddo. I'll always have your back," the man answered, hugging the blond boy to his chest.

  From the corner of his eye, Leon was examining Brennan, and he instinctively knew the newest addition to The Base could be trusted. Like all the other men from there, he was a fierce protector of the innocent and defenseless. But he was also in need of help. "You came to the right place." The solid man smiled internally. "You can rest assured, justice will be served, and the evil ones will be punished."

  The correction Brennan applied to him the night before affected Fabian more than he was willing to admit. Although the man showed a brave face, feigning indifference and showing that the blows didn't harm him, he made colossal efforts to hide the grimaces of pain the persistent throb in his head produced.

  Right after Brennan left, Fabian gulped down two painkillers and a sleeping pill, the combination knocking him out almost instantly. He slept through most of the next day and probably would have slept more if the continuous beep of his phone hadn't woken him up. It was a message from his most prominent secret associate.

  "Party ahead, what should I do?" Fabian stared at the six words for a while before realizing what they were about. When he finally did, the man let out an elaborate curse, slamming his fist against the mattress in childish frustration. That spoiled brat Daniel had overstepped the line, and it was about time for him to be put into his place.

  The party, his associate, mentioned in the message was a declaration of power, meant to intimidate the possible enemies, discouraging the attempts at the clans' financial stability and their members' physical integrity. Also, it was a clear message for little Gabriel's husband-to-be not to mess with his sweet, little heart. Whoever was behind the idea had a brilliant, strategic mind, Fabian thought, with a mix of envy and admiration.

  Another pressing matter, represented by Brennan threatening to expose him, was brought to the man's attention, making him silently curse the moment that ungrateful brat came into his life. Had he known that the goddamn kid would turn against him, he would have left him at the lab, to be transformed into a mindless, soulless killing machine, like many of the others.

  By the nature of his position inside of the Department of Defense, Fabian knew a lot of prominent journalists and media company owners. However, none of them was half as powerful and influential as Eugene Boorman, and if the treacherous little bastard got to him, things weren't going to look good at all, the man thought, helplessness and frustration taking him over.

  Suddenly, a thought crossed Fabian's mind, and the hyena smile reappeared on his face. The party his dear nephew Daniel was throwing to intimidate his enemies were going to be the end of him, and that defiant brat Brennan would pay the price for his disobedience. Instead of taking him down, the foolish kid would come crawling back to his feet, begging to be forgiven.

  Thinking about the punishments he would inflict on the young man, Fabian's cock became rock-hard. He would subject the rebellious brat to the darkest, most twisted and depraved of his fantasies, and Brennan would take everything, happy to be of use. With that thought in mind, his lips curled in a hideous rictus, the man took up his phone, dialing his associate's number.

  Meanwhile, the subject of Fabian's thoughts was on cloud nine, surrounded by all the kiddies of the two clans, most of them aged five to ten. The little ones were chasing one another through the tall grass, making high-pitched sounds, cheeks flushed and their eyes shining with joy. From time to time, one or another went to Brennan, asking him nicely to retrieve a ball that went too far or a kite stuck in one of the tall trees.

  "Whoa," Christopher-Benjamin, Peyton, and Ezra's firstborn said in an admiration-filled voice, "you climbed it and got down even faster than
Uncle Ardan! Thank you," the five-year-old politely said, taking the kite from the young man's hand.

  "You have quite a fan club here." Peyton grinned as they approached Brennan and the small group of kiddies who were laying on the thick blankets spread here and there, catching their breath before getting back to play. "You have a great chance to become their favorite uncle in no time." they smiled gently.

  "Well, I don't know about that." Brennan blushed at the praise. "But it's doubtful, given the tough competition. I mean, we're talking about Ardan here..."

  "Yes, but you are also great father material. I've seen you with my babies, how your presence calms Alexis almost instantly. I've noticed how the youngest and most rebellious of the bunch listen to you, and last but not least, I heard a discussion between the triplets this morning. I knew you were special from the start, but now..."

  "Anyone would have done the same," Brennan said in a low voice, a barely-there smile playing on his lips. "Daniel and Tarquin went through enough lately; the pressure they were dealing with was already too much. I happened to be there, and the rest is history."

  "Being the great friend you are," Peyton smiled, changing the subject, "you'll forgive my nosiness. Why don't you find someone and settle down? I have no doubts you would be the perfect husband and one of the most loving fathers in the world."

  "I...well...I haven't had time to think about it, too busy with the job," Brennan stuttered, the other one's question taking him by surprise. "My former boss was a demanding bastard, who buried me under a pile of work all the time, and...Besides, I'm not even twenty-one yet, there's still plenty of time for me to..."

  "Yes, you're right." Peyton smiled warmly. "I didn't think about that aspect. You see, I was almost sixteen and Ezra eighteen when we had our first kiss, Alasdair was of the same age as me when he and Ardan first met, so I just assumed it was the same in your case."