Back beside Reagan’s bed, Sean kneeled down and peered inside a small basket; there, snuggled behind blankets, slept his son. He reached between the covers and slipped Luke into his arms. He was so small, only seven days old, but old enough to resemble both his mother, with her freckles and auburn hair, and Sean with his crystal blue eyes. Those blue eyes will stamp you as unique, he thought and rocked his son gently back and forth. Such clear eyes were the true mark of a Keeper, but where he would grow up, there would be no one like that, at least, that’s what Sean hoped. Cashal would have to find the right place, but somewhere safe, somewhere untouched by Romulus and his Black Cloaks because then and only then could Luke have a chance at a normal life.
And I, he thought sadly, stroking the auburn fuzz atop Luke’s head, I will never hold you again—for your own safety I will keep you from finding me, because if Romulus ever discovers my secret grounds, I would never forgive myself if you were with me. Revenge grips his mind and will until he reclaims what I stole. And for the life of me, Luke, you will live a full life, a free life, a life untouched by your father’s screw-ups. Though, Sean thought and squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, that was ignorance speaking. His son would have to face things because of Sean and, as he looked at Reagan tucked beneath the starchy white sheets, because of his mother as well.