You’d think after an emotional reunion with myself and all the crap that came with it, I wouldn’t be wide awake at—

  I glanced at the alarm clock Blaine kept in the guest bedroom.

  Four a.m.

  I huffed out a sigh and rolled out of bed.

  The Haven outfitters apparently supplied clothes for guests. The dresser held a full wardrobe in my size—a weirdly accurate mix of jeans, flannels, army shirts, brown t-shirts… and tank tops with gym shorts. The closet even had running shoes.

  I grabbed those, plus clean underwear.

  Making the bed made me feel like I was back in the military and in the cabin at the same time.

  Then I got dressed and headed downstairs.

  Jack was asleep on the couch. Mitchell had been teleported home to deal with his pack. Arthur had long since left.

  ‘What are you doing this morning?’ Chaos asked. ‘Besides making coffee?’

  I sighed as I found the supplies and made it the strength I liked.

  ‘Figured if I can’t sleep, I can work out. Exercise always helped my brain.’

  Dragoon was apparently still asleep.

  I leaned against the counter while the coffee brewed.

  ‘So you’re Chaos?’ I asked. ‘Does that mean destructive?’

  ‘When the need calls for it,’ he said. ‘I’m also creative, random, and good at generating new ideas.’

  I snorted. ‘Sounds like me when I decide a plan is shit.’

  ‘Yes. Indeed.’

  I didn’t take the whole pot—

  but I found a very large mug and filled it.

  Outside, the fresh morning air filled my lungs.

  I could actually… enjoy it.

  How long had it been since I’d enjoyed anything?

  Sipping my coffee, I gazed out at a world not yet touched by sunlight.

  Peaceful.

  Even as Carl and John, I’d always been a morning person.

  I finished my coffee and set the mug on the picnic table out back.

  Then I stepped into the dew-covered grass to start stretching.

  Wet grass was home to me.

  The Army rose at dawn, and if the grass was still wet?

  Get over it.

  My routine was push-ups, jumping jacks, sit-ups, jog-in-place—

  repeat.

  Blaine found me on my second set.

  He stared at me, bleary-eyed, clutching his own coffee like it was life support.

  “Vicars,” he growled, his voice gravelly with sleep.

  “It’s five in the morning.”

  “Couldn’t sleep,” I said, continuing my push-ups. “Figured exercise would help.”

  Blaine stared at me a moment longer, blinked once, then turned back toward the house.

  “We both need more coffee for this.”

  By the time he returned—carrying the entire coffee pot—Dragoon was awake and very confused about what his human was doing.

  ‘Will this help my human hunt?’

  Poor thing sounded genuinely concerned.

  ‘It can…’ Chaos said. ‘But I believe he finds it grounding.’

  ‘But he’s a shadow dragon. Not an earth dragon.’

  “You’re still at them?” Blaine blinked as he filled my massive mug.

  “Yup,” I panted. “Probably my last rep. I’m out of practice.”

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  “Gee… who would’ve guessed?” Blaine sighed, sinking into a patio chair and taking a sip of his mug.

  He left the pot by my cup like a peace offering.

  Then he made a face.

  “Why, Vicars? This is sludge. Not coffee.”

  “Needs to be strong to put hair on your chest,” I smirked.

  Jack padded out just then and stared at me. He glanced at Blaine.

  “Did you…?”

  “Nope. All him,” Blaine sighed, lifting his mug. “He definitely made the coffee, though.”

  “What does that mean?” Jack dropped into another lawn chair. “Dad didn’t drink coffee.”

  With a lazy wave of his hand, Blaine conjured another mug and handed it over.

  “Trying it is the only way you’ll understand.”

  Jack jumped up and poured himself some before sitting back down with it.

  “C’mon,” I said as I shifted into my cool-down routine. “It’s not that bad.”

  Jack took a sip—

  and immediately choked.

  “Damn, Dad.”

  “Coffee should be strong,” I grumbled.

  “How are you handling this, Jack?” Blaine asked.

  “The coffee is so close to military sludge that it’s kind of fine.”

  He stared into his mug.

  That was my boy.

  Missing the point entirely.

  Blaine groaned and glared at him. “I meant your dad, Jack.”

  “Oh. That…!” He blinked and looked at me just as I stood up, covered in bits of wet grass.

  Fantastic. Sensory hell. I could practically feel Carl having an aneurysm.

  Of course I’d forgotten a towel.

  I scowled and tried brushing the grass off.

  Blaine rubbed his face, then made a towel appear and held it out to me.

  “In some ways he’s different,” Jack said as I wiped myself down. I listened in silence. Stupid grass. “But him trying to get the grass off feels very Dad.”

  “Quit enjoying this,” I muttered.

  “But I can actually tease you without a confused look followed by a forced laugh,” he grinned. “Ain’t it awesome?”

  I threw the towel at him and grabbed my coffee cup. Still warm.

  “Little miscreant.”

  “How are things going with the rogue shifter group?” Blaine asked Jack, drinking my coffee like it was normal.

  We’d both had worse.

  I pulled another lawn chair over and listened in. The second cup was always better than the first, especially when the first had been inhaled.

  Jack groaned and slumped in his chair. “I’m great at robots, which keep occasionally popping up. But shifters don’t follow patterns. They have animal instincts. ADHD does nothing against them.”

  “What’s so difficult about fighting people with animal instincts?” I asked, genuinely confused. “Shouldn’t that be easier?”

  They both turned to stare at me.

  Blaine’s eyes twinkled. “Hold that thought.”

  “Sure,” I said, glancing at the coffee pot. “I’ve got plenty of coffee, so I’m good.”

  Blaine vanished in a cloud that smelled like sulfur.

  We both gagged.

  Jack glanced at me through his coughing. “How do you know that guy?”

  “He was my drill sergeant in basic training,” I shrugged. “Very good at it.”

  “Wonder why,” Jack muttered into his mug.

  A few minutes later, Blaine reappeared with a bald man with chocolate-colored skin. He wore running shoes and army fatigues, and he looked pissed.

  His dark brown eyes blazed at Blaine, his back still to me.

  “What is the meaning of this, Demon?!” Andrew Carter shouted.

  Of course I recognized him.

  I gave Jack my let’s-see-what-fun-we-can-get-up-to smile.

  He started blinking and gawking at me.

  I rose silently from my chair and padded up behind Carter, a wide grin spreading across my face.

  General now. Huh? Let’s see…

  “Carter! Attention!” I barked, just like I used to.

  He jumped a good foot in the air but still managed to whirl around, straighten up, and salute all at once. I was actually impressed.

  “Yes, sir!” he shouted—then his brain caught up. “Hale?”

  I waved him off and returned to my lawn chair.

  “Long story. Daniel Vicars now. I’ve got all my parts together,” I added, “but they still squeak if I turn suddenly.”

  He stared at me. “How are you not dead?”

  “Ask Mitchell to recount it,” I said, grabbing my coffee and focusing on it. “I’m not telling it again.”

  “He said shifters are easier to defeat than robots, Carter,” Jack added. “I think Blaine brought you here to hear his ideas.”

  “I’ll go make some palatable coffee,” Blaine glared at my pot. “Drink that at your own risk, Carter.”

  Carter sank into a lawn chair, arms folded, scowling. “Who made it?”

  “Guilty,” I said.

  He eyed the mug like it was toxic. “And why are shifters easier than robots?”

  “Because shifters have animals,” I said, like it was obvious.

  “We’re not following, Daniel,” Carter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  I had a brief flashback to doing that exact thing to him more times than I could count. I grinned.

  “They can be disoriented by strong smells, loud noises, and sudden movement that looks like prey,” I said.

  “But when they’re in human form—” Carter started.

  “You remember how hard thunderstorms and twenty-one gun salutes were on Mitchell?” I interrupted. “You could see he wasn’t fully there.”

  Carter frowned.

  “I didn’t know he was a shifter back then,” I continued. “I figured autistic, so I didn’t ride him too hard. Turns out he was fighting his wolf not to bolt.”

  Carter stared at me.

  “Traps could work,” I went on. “But you’d have to dose them with scent killer like hunters use for deer.” I took another sip of coffee. “Deer urine or doe spray could lay false trails straight into traps if you’re smart about it.”

  “How did you think all this up?” Carter asked.

  “Carl was a paranoid bastard,” I said, staring into my mug. “Paranoid about shifters finding him. He got creative.”

  Jack snorted. “Remember how I said Dad lived in the woods most of my childhood? We hunted for meat all the time. He was great at tracking.”

  “Same skill set,” I agreed. Then paused. “But rogue dragon shifters? That’s a different beast. I don’t know how they react.”

  Carter bit his lip. “You’d probably enrage the dragon. You might confuse it for a second—then it’ll just get angry.”

  “Ah,” I nodded. “That explains Taro’s reaction to me getting away. So the strategy becomes: enrage them—but have a backup plan for wrath mode. Because in human form, they’re thinking less clearly.”

  Jack stared at me.

  “Dad… you’re kind of scary like this.”

  “Taro? Why is he mad at you?” Carter stared at me. Then his eyes widened.

  “You pissed off the head of the Chinese fire dragon clan?!”

  “He injected me with shadow dragon venom when I was Carl,” I shrugged. “I think he expected me to freeze. I kneed him in the groin and uppercut him. He’d been in one of my units before, so I knew he wouldn’t stay down long. Lost him in a swamp and hid in a hollowed-out rise. He got upset.”

  Carter gawped at me, then slowly turned to Jack.

  “Do you realize how much like your father you are?!”

  Jack blinked at me.

  “Starting to. Dad, you kneed someone in the groin as Carl?”

  “Fight-or-flight response,” I said, taking another sip of coffee. “It’s like trying to wake up a Vietnam vet by tapping their shoulder. Taro hit a trigger and—bam.”

  Jack frowned. “Who tried waking up a vet by tapping them on the shoulder?”

  My cheeks heated.

  “Blaine told me to wake him up,” I muttered. “Didn’t say how. Blaine had to pry him off me while lecturing me on the proper method.”

  Jack turned back to Carter, eyes wide.

  “…Yeah. I definitely see where I get it from.”

  Blaine hurried out of the house, half dressed in his deputy uniform.

  “We have a problem!”