"Fai la ninna, fai la nanna, con'sto fialio non c'è più pace, fai la ninna, fai la nanna, pupo bello della mamma, ninna oh, ninna oh," Raven sang softly. His arms were iron cages, a beacon of safety that protected him from the cruelness of the world, and as Ronan snuggled deeper into his chest, he felt so . . . exhausted. But not in the kind of way sleep could fix. Not in the kind of way the adjective could truly bring justice.

"What does that mean, birdie?" he whispered, peering up. The worry and anger that had been present when he'd first pulled up had drained, leaving behind...