“I don’t want to go,” D’Jacques admitted softly. His eyes cut to the figures standing a few yards away. Atty had her daughter in her arms. His mother…no. Madigan held her son in her arms. The two women were chatting about something. Laughing. Cooing over the children.
The battle lord blinked. Madigan looked incredibly youthful and happy. She was nothing like his mother in his present. Other than appearance, they were complete opposites.
MaGrath took a swig of his drink. Breakfast was about to be served, and they were seated at the head table, waiting to be served their meal.
“I feel for you, son,” the physician admitted. “But you gotta understand we have to have our own Yulen back. Atty needs him. The children need him.” The man stared into D’Jacques’ eyes. “This is no reflection on you
