DAVE
Blood and Reckoning
"You're not coming." The words taste like ash as I watch Kat strap the boys into their carrier, her movements precise despite the tremor in her hands. Morning light catches in her black hair, turning it blue-black like spilled ink. "Stay here where it's safe."
Her hazel eyes flash copper-bright, that particular shade that means violence approaches. "Try to stop me." She adjusts Takeshi's position, his black fur ruffled from sleep, tiny paws twitching with dreams of storms. "Go ahead. See how that works out for you."
"The boys need—"
"Their father alive." She cuts through my protest with surgical precision, moving closer until I can smell her—copper pennies and that underlying arousal that never quite leaves since the boys were born. "They need you coming home,
