Abel stormed through the station heading toward the holding cells, the heat of his anger shoving the other officers and staff out of his way before he even drew near them. He should have known, should have anticipated something like this would happen. He’d warned him how many times by now not to get into trouble? That there was only so much he could do to keep the rest of the department off his ass. Not to mention, getting that call after weeks of silence was not the way he wanted to hear from his missing son.

Deputy Cameron Perez, seeing the Sheriff approach, pushed off the reception desk to join him, a clipboard in his hand.

“I’m sorry to have called you so late, Sheriff,” he said, trying to keep up with the older, far angrier man. “I know you haven’t had much sleep lately, but…”

Abel waved it away. “Don’t worry about it,” he responded gruffly. “Which one is he in?”

Cameron checked the form on the paper. “Cell four. Sheriff, you should probably know the guy he fought—”

“I already know,” Abel snapped. “The doctor was all too happy to give me the rundown of the man’s injuries.” His jaw clenched, a vein popping out on the side of his neck. “How many times, Cam?” he muttered. “How many times did I tell that boy…”

They rounded the corner to the door that led to the first four holding cells. Able punched in his ID with all the force of an ogre, nearly breaking the keypad…and not for the first time. He yanked the door open and blasted his way through like a tornado, Cameron hot on his heels, listing off the charges the young man had against him, each one only adding to Abel’s ire.

Finally, he came to the last cell on the block, and stopped, the keys gripped tightly in his hand. 

“Get up,” he growled at the sole occupant within, unlocking the barred door and slamming it open. 

The man lying on the bench, his arm slung over his eyes, didn’t move. He did, however, mutter, “Fuck off,” in a slurred voice. Abel didn’t have to be right up on him to smell the booze drifting from Ash’s pores.

“Get up on your own, or I will assist you,” Abel said, the threat strong in his tone.

After another second, Ash dropped one foot heavily to the floor, his arm leaving his eyes so he could run one hand through his greasy, matted hair, his glazed, green eyes glued to the ceiling. He didn’t move past that, and Abel’s teeth hurt from how hard he was gritting them.

“Ash, I swear on all that’s holy…”

Ash sighed audibly, sitting up with a groan, his hair a wild mess about his face and neck. “Fuck, fine,” he groaned, turning and getting to his feet, staggering slightly once he was vertical again. “You don’t have to be such a prick about it, geez.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled leisurely out of the cell, barely glancing at his father as he passed.

Abel nearly gagged at the strong odor wafting from his son. Cameron, wisely, moved out of the way before the younger man bumped into him. Ash’s pace increased the moment he passed, Abel keeping up so he could open the door that led back out to the main building.

“Six weeks, Ash,” he said, his anger slightly tempered at seeing his son alive and mostly well after he’d gone silent for so long. “Six weeks without a word, and the day you get back, you decide to pick a fight with one of the biggest men in town. Do you even know how badly you hurt him?”

Ash shrugged. “He survived, didn’t he?” he said, scratching at the black stubble that covered his face. 

“Barely!” Abel replied. “Four broken ribs, dislocated jaw, a punctured lung, skull fractures, a broken arm…”

“Dislocated knee and possibly a ruptured spleen,” Ash added with a yawn. “Big deal, he fuckin’ deserved it.”

Abel’s feet faltered and he shot a glance at Cameron who gave him an almost apologetic smile.

“He was smacking some girl around when Ash got involved,” he said quietly. “He’s still in ICU, but he’s being transferred to the county jail once he’s released. She’s pressing charges.”

“Is he pressing against Ash?”

“Doesn’t matter, since you’re gonna clear ‘em, anyway,” Ash said nonchalantly as they rounded a corner leading to the reception area.

Abel wanted to punch his son, something he never expected to feel. As it was, he clenched his fist, his dark eyes blazing with anger. 

“That is absolutely beside the point,” he growled low in his throat, taking care that no one could hear him. “We had a deal, remember? Going rogue and ghosting us wasn’t part of it.”

Ash didn’t acknowledge his father as he made his way through the building, frustrating the Sheriff further.

“Goddammit, will you listen to me? Ashley, wait a second!” He reached out and grabbed his son’s arm…big mistake.

With a yelp, he jerked his hand away, a river of electricity shooting up from the appendage and through his arm. Ash halted in his steps, finally sliding his gaze back to his father with a look that could have downed a cave troll.

“Do not call me that,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Abel swallowed hard, the blood rushing from his face, along with his anger. In its place was fear. In the last six months, not only had Ash grown stronger, but he was also bigger, just over six feet tall, angrier, and far more powerful. Anything could set him off, and there was precious little anyone could do to stop him when he went on a rampage. He never attacked anyone who was innocent, but that didn’t mean he didn’t incite fear among those he came across. Including his own family.

“Sorry,” Abel said under his breath, his heart pounding. 

Ash stared at him a moment longer before turning away, quickening his pace to the reception desk. He greeted the woman behind the high partition, ignoring how her nose wrinkled as she brought up his information.

“Ash,” Abel said after a moment, his voice far calmer than before. “We’ve been worried sick about you. Your mother and sisters…”

“Are fine,” Ash said coldly, reaching for his wallet, phone, belt, cigarettes, lighter, and knives the woman had provided in a small plastic bin. “Osa had made sure of that.”

Abel’s brow furrowed. “I’m well aware of that,” he said.

“Where’s my dragon?” Ash said, turning from the desk while slipping his belt on and cinching it tightly around his hips.

“She’s with Sandy,” Cameron said.

Ash made a noise in his throat, a cross between a groan and sigh. “Silkie!” he shouted, starting forward. 

“Ash, could you please stop for two seconds and—” Abel began but was cut off by Ash’s deep, booming voice resounding off the police station walls as he called the name again. Everyone in the immediate area flinched. “Ash!”

“Papa!” 

Ash’s expression softened at the sound of a little girl’s voice, her claws clicking on the tiled floor as she bounded her way down the hall. A second later, a small, white dragon about four feet long with blue whiskers, a sleek body with a fine coating of soft fur, and a beveled furry blue tail appeared, curling around Ash’s body before settling around his shoulders, rubbing her face against his, a sound similar to a purr radiating from her throat.

“Papa, where were you? I was scared!” she cried, burying her head in his throat. 

Ash chuckled slightly, scratching the top of her head. “Sorry, baby girl, Papa just needed a nap.” He glanced over at his father, daring him to contradict him. “Ready to go home?”

Silkie brightened, her scales rustling. “Yes!” she whispered excitedly.

Cameron gave her a big smile and a small wave. He knew better than to touch her. “Later, kiddo,” he said. She leaned out, licking his cheek with her rough tongue, eliciting a soft chuckle.

“Bye!” she said with as much of a smile as she could produce.

Ash made his way toward the front of the building, Abel following him a second later. 

“Do you at least have a good reason for why you kept me in the dark?” he asked, placing his hat on his head.

“Yep,” Ash replied, digging in his pocket and producing a piece of paper, handing it out to the side for his father to grab. “I nearly lost my head getting that information, so a tiny bit of gratitude would be nice.” 

“What’s this?” Abel asked, opening the paper with a bemused frown. His eyes went wide and he once again nearly fell over his own feet. “Ash, what—”

“You asked for names, I got you names,” Ash replied, pushing open the front door to step out into the cool summer night air. He reached into his pocket and grabbed out the pack of cigarettes, taking one out and lighting it while Abel perused the list. Silkie shifted to rest her head atop her Papa’s so the smoke wouldn’t bother her too badly.

“This is more than just names,” Abel said, shaking his head in astonishment. “These are locations and amounts. How the hell did you manage to get all this?”

Ash shrugged, taking a long drag off his cigarette. He flinched when he felt a wave from Coby smack him in the chest, thick with disappointment. Still, Ash didn’t toss it away, but neither did he push his husband away. Whatever he could get from Coby, he would take. Even if much of it, as of late, was negative.

“I told you, I almost lost my head getting it. These guys don’t fuck around, and I have a face none of them like.”