Rafe's POV

The city hummed outside, a constant, indifferent roar of traffic and distant sirens that served as a soundtrack to my self-imposed imprisonment. Inside the dusty, forgotten loft, the only sound was the soft, rhythmic breathing of Jackson. He was tiny, vulnerable, and utterly dependent on me, Rafe, a man who, until a few weeks ago, had only ever truly depended on himself.

My gaze drifted from the sleeping kid to the grimy windowpane, where the late afternoon sun ...