The cruiser hummed quietly as it rolled down the wide, immaculate street. The morning sun slanted through rows of towering trees, dappled light flickering across the polished hood. Inside, Duke Marlowe’s hooves tapped impatiently against the floorboards, the muted sound just barely audible over the smooth rumble of the engine.

“Rex, why not just put that thing in the mail?” Duke’s gravelly voice broke the silence, heavy with skepticism. He shifted in the driver’s seat, one broad hand resting on the wheel, the other adjusting the mirrored sunglasses perched on his wide snout. “Last month after you had your little visit at the mall, you were so chewed up I thought the chief was gonna put you on psych eval.”

Rex, slouched in the passenger seat, didn’t look over. His eyes stayed fixed on the street ahead, his jaw tight. “Max’s birthday soon.”

“Uh-huh,” Duke snorted, a deep, bovine rumble that matched his thick, broad-chested frame. He shifted his weight slightly, as he turned to glance at Rex.

Rex’s ears twitched, and he nervously pulled his nails through his mane.  “This is my son Duke. No way I’m mailing his gift. Maybe a pair of socks, sure, but not this.”

“Yeah? And what’s the plan? Knock on her door, flash a smile, and suddenly it’s hugs and holiday cards and couple’s therapy?”

Rex’s tail flicked once against the seat, betraying the irritation he tried to mask. His coarse, russet-streaked fur shifted slightly under his jacket as he leaned back, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm on his knee. “I didn’t ask you to come and play therapist.”

“No, you didn’t.  You insisted we make a detour after we left the station.  You’re gonna hear it anyway,” Duke shot back. “Might as well make it worth my trouble.”

The cruiser slowed as Duke pulled to the curb, letting the engine idle. He reached up to the latch above his head, his thick fingers fumbling for a moment before finding purchase. With a grunt of effort, he unhooked the convertible’s roof and pushed it back manually, the fabric folding noisily as he shoved it into its resting position. Sunlight spilled into the cabin, lighting up the faint sheen of Duke’s coal-black coat and casting a shadow across his heavyset shoulders.

Duke uncapped his horns and tossed the two tennis balls into a cup holder.

Rex glanced over. “I ever tell you those make you look ridiculous?”

“Every day,” he muttered through a huff, flexing his arms to shake off the effort. His horns gleamed, smooth and strong, adding to the imposing presence he carried like armor.  “I ever tell you I don’t care?” Duke said dryly. 

Rex’s gaze shifted briefly toward the mirror on the passenger side, catching his reflection in the corner of his eye. The lean, rugged face staring back at him wasn’t the kind of face that belonged in this part of town. His thick, coarse fur, a composite of grays and browns streaked with russet, had been combed back, but it still resisted his best efforts at taming it. A few errant tufts stuck up along his ears, the dark tips twitching as he ran a hand through his fur. His scruffy, wild look was matched by the sharpness in his amber eyes.

He adjusted the collar of his jacket and tugged at his shirt, where the faded fabric stretched over his broad shoulders. It wasn’t much, but he wanted to look more presentable. 

“Trying to clean up for her?” Duke asked, his tone flat but not without a hint of curiosity.

“Yeah,” His voice was quieter, almost muttered, as if saying it out loud exposed some vulnerability he wasn’t ready to confront. “Every little bit helps.”

Duke snorted again, but there was no bite to it this time. “Well, at least one of you deserves a good day.”

Rex leaned forward, unclipping Steel from its holster. The custom revolver gleamed in the sunlight, its polished barrel catching the light and exposing glowing runes etched across the barrel. He hesitated for a moment, his fingers curling around the weapon like it might anchor him to something steadier than the gnawing pit in his stomach.

Duke’s gaze shifted toward him, his brow furrowing. “You’re really leaving that behind?”

“Steel’s for battles,” Rex said quietly, his voice rough but steady. “This isn’t that kind of fight.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Duke muttered, leaning back in his seat. His broad shoulders filled the space, his massive frame somehow managing to look even larger with the convertible roof folded back. “She’s hit you harder than any perp we’ve taken down.”

Rex didn’t respond. He slipped the pistol into the cruiser’s lockbox, snapping it shut with a decisive click before turning to push open the door.

As Rex stepped out, the full weight of the neighborhood settled over him. The street was immaculate, almost too pristine, with its stately houses and meticulously trimmed hedges. The air smelled faintly of freshly cut grass and something sharper—stone and steel, the scent of dragons. His ears twitched as he scanned the rows of perfectly spaced homes, his fur bristling slightly beneath his jacket.

Rex reached back into the cruiser to collect a small bag with a bright red ribbon poking out from it.  He’d spent a painful few hours choosing the gift.  He hoped it was the right one, considering how much of that time he spent second guessing what would be appropriate for the boy.

“Never much cared for this neighborhood,” Duke muttered from the driver’s seat, his sharp gaze flicking up and down the street. “All quiet and shiny on the outside, but schemes, plots, and elitism waiting to remind us that we are lowly animals on the inside.”

“Not all of them are like that, Duke,” Rex said, his tone bitter but resigned. His tail swished low behind him as he adjusted his jacket, the holster under it feeling strangely empty. “Give me five minutes.”

“Take ten,” Duke grunted. “We got time. Look…  Rex, if she pushes, don’t resist.  You have been pushing the envelope this year, and that incident with the surveillance equipment can’t happen again.  It is a wonder you don’t have a harassment report or worse yet.”

Rex nodded, his focus narrowing as he started up the path toward Katarina’s house. The crunch of gravel under his boots felt too loud in the stillness, and his ears twitched again, half-expecting the rustle of curtains or the glare of sharp, draconic eyes peering from behind glass.

Rows of bright houses stretched down the quiet street, each a picture of suburban calm, well-spaced and painted in colors as serene as the morning itself. It was a neighborhood that seemed to wrap itself in dignity, one where neighbors smiled politely but minds remained sharp, always watchful of who came and went. This part of the city was where old money liked to settle, and though it bore the quiet, stately air of wealth, Athelun’s suburbs lacked the coldness of the downtown skyline, trading towering glass for peaceful streets and manicured hedges.

Katarina’s house stood halfway down the block, an elegant but unassuming two-story home that fit perfectly into its surroundings. The house bore the understated marks of her father’s hand—a quiet but inescapable quality, the kind of home bought with the Drakenhart family’s money, chosen and purchased with careful deliberation. Her father’s influence was everywhere, visible in the tall, hedged fence and the iron lanterns at the entryway, all subtle reminders of his control over her life, even from afar. Magnus had clearly picked this place not only for Katarina’s comforts, but to send a message: A wolf like Rex was out of place this close to the dens of dragons.

Rex stood on the path leading up to her door.  He shifted from paw to paw, his claws scraping lightly against the pavement as he tightened his grip on the small, newspaper-wrapped gift in his hand. To him, the house almost seemed to glare back, as if the whole street disapproved of his presence here. His ears flicked back briefly, betraying his apprehension even as he forced himself to step closer. Katarina had at least started taking the gifts from him as opposed to forcing him to leave them on her porch. There was hope that he was breaking through even with small purchases.

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Taking a deep breath, he felt the familiar drum of his heart echoing in his chest as he raised his fist, hesitating a fraction too long. Three years of persistent rejection, and still, he returned, drawn by some relentless part of himself. A stubbornness that was usually a prime quality for his profession, but ultimately had been detrimental to his personal life. His claws brushed the polished wood of the porch as he rapped softly but firmly to alert Katarina of his presence if she did not already see him coming from the window.

When the door opened, an elegant dragoness wearing a flowing, floral-print house dress filled the doorway, her graceful form framed by the warm morning light. The dress, cinched at the waist and tailored to accommodate her wings and tail, swayed gently as she stood, its soft fabric lending an understated charm to her otherwise imposing presence. Rich, earthy brown fur enveloped her lean, feminine figure, exuding a dignified warmth that contrasted with the cool indifference of her expression. Flecks of forest-green scales shimmered along her arms, like the shimmer of leaves under dappled forest light.

Sweeping horns curled back from her brow in graceful arcs, each one wrapped from the base to the tips with a soft leather band to mute any sharpness and prevent accidental damage to surfaces around her while she performed house work.

She wore a simple, loose scarf holding back her mane, suggesting an interruption to her morning rituals.

Her teal eyes glowed with a faint, stormy brilliance, an unmistakable mark of her aetherborn heritage.  She crossed her arms with cool restraint, her gaze flicking briefly over Rex before dropping to the small, carefully wrapped package in his hands.

Her mouth was set in a tight line, as though she’d already decided he wasn’t worth the interruption. A subtle tension in the flick of her tail and a flex of her wings hinted at her irritation. Her unreadable expression and guarded stance made it clear that, while she tolerated his presence, she wanted this exchange to be swift.

“Hi, Kat…” he started, his voice soft, almost timid.

She didn’t answer, merely raising an eyebrow as she waited, her tail flicking behind her in impatience.

Rex swallowed hard. “I, uh… I brought something for Max’s birthday. He’s four soon, right?”

She exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. “You can’t keep doing this Rex.?” Her words were cold, and bitter. “Three years of apologies doesn’t erase what you did.”

His shoulders slumped, ears low as he nodded, taking her words in without protest. “I know… I know they don’t. I’m not trying to erase it, Kat. I just… Look, can we at least talk?”

“Talk?” she repeated, her voice rising. “There is nothing to talk about. You abandoned us, Rex. You left me alone, through everything. And you keep showing up with gifts, like buying your way back into our lives is going to change anything. Her wings shifted slightly, an agitated flare just beginning to show. She clenched her teeth and she looked away.

Rex’s ears flattened. He couldn’t bring himself to argue. “I’m sorry, Kat,” he said softly, his gaze falling to the ground. “I know that doesn’t fix it, but I am. I’m… I am sorry. I’d do anything to change it.”

Katarina’s mouth tightened, a mixture of anger and pain crossing her face. “Then do something else, Rex! Do anything other than showing up like this. You think another wrapped box is going to make up for what you did? ”

He winced at her words, his hand dropping slightly, his tail hanging lower. “I… I don’t know how else to fix it,” he admitted, his voice breaking.

“There is no fixing this! You left me and…” Katarina’s wings twitched and drew in tightly against her back as she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to calm herself. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, tinged with restrained fire. “You left me and Max. You were not a part of his life when he was born, and you are not going to be a part of his life now.”

Rex’s ears drooped, and his tail curled low behind him. “There is not a day that passes where I do not regret… Look, please just give me a chance. I am not even asking to be a part of Max’s life yet, I just want an opportunity to prove...”  His voice was heavy with guilt, and his claws flexed at his sides.

Katarina laughed bitterly, shaking her head, her wings flaring briefly before folding again. “You lost us already, Rex.” Her voice softened, a rare crack in her usual resolve, and her tail tip flicked against the floor. Her eyes looked off to the side, avoiding him.

Before he could respond, a small voice piped up from behind her, curious and bright. “Mama, who’s there?”

Rex froze, his eyes widening. His heart stilled in his chest as he looked down to see a little figure peeking around her leg. It was Maxwell, their son. He was small, still a pup, his dark fur a mix of Rex’s own silver and Katarina’s darker hues, and there was a spark of curious whimsy in his eyes. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Maxwell looked directly at him, his little head tilted to the side, a spark of recognition flashing in his expression.

Rex tried to speak, but his voice caught, and all he could do was stare, taking in the sight of his son. His tail gave a faint, hesitant wag. He began to raise his hand to say hello, but before he could say another word, Katarina intervened protectively, folding her wings like a shield, her voice low and firm. “Max, honey, go play inside,” she said, forcing a smile that barely hid her tension. “The delivery man is just dropping off a package.”

Max gave one last, curious look up at Rex, then turned and trotted back down the hall, his little claws clicking on the floor.

A hollow ache spread through Rex’s chest as he watched his son leave. He had never spoken to him. He wasn’t even aware Maxwell could speak yet. The weight of regret and sorrow washed over him, and when he looked back up at Katarina, he knew his expression was raw. He was showing too much of the pain he usually tried to hide, and he was failing in holding himself together. His son was growing up without him. It was happening so fast and he was struggling to keep up.

For a fleeting moment, something softened in Katarina’s gaze. She looked at him like she could see the hurt she’d just caused, the way her words had hollowed him out.

She sighed, looking over his shoulder to the street. She could see Duke in the cruiser waiting for Rex to be done with the visit.

“Fine, Rex.” She took the gift from his hand, her voice quieter, a reluctant note of sympathy edging into her tone. “But don’t think this changes anything.”

He blinked, fighting to keep the emotion in check. “Please, Kat,” he said, voice strained. “Just… tell me what to do. Tell me how to make it right.”

Her jaw clenched as she glanced away, looking at anything but him. “I don’t know, Rex,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

They stood in silence, the weight of their past and the pain of the present hanging between them. Finally, she shook her head, trying to regain her composure. “Just… leave, Rex,” she murmured. “And stay away from the schoolyard. You have been seen there a few times and I don’t want Max to see you. It will be confusing to him.”

The finality in her voice left him no room to argue. She shut the door, leaving him alone on the porch, and the day immediately became gloomier in her absence. Rex gave a slow, reluctant turn to walk back to the car, his shoulders slumped, every step heavy till he climbed into the passenger seat beside Duke.

Arms crossed over his chest, Duke exuded a palpable air of agitation. His eyes darted between Rex and the door of Katarina's house, concern and irritation etched into his face. He had always been the pragmatic one, the voice of reason, and today was no exception. “You really know how to pick ‘em,” he said dryly, his voice a rumble like distant thunder. “I told you, Rex, this was a bad idea and we have things we need to do today.”

As he spoke, his gaze bore into his partner, a mix of exasperation and genuine concern. Rex's emotional turmoil was clear, and Duke hated seeing him like that. He leaned back slightly, as if trying to create some space in the cramped car.

Rex shot him a sharp look, his ears twitching back in irritation as he gave an accusing point of his finger. “Don’t start with me, Duke.”

Duke raised his hands in a half-hearted surrender, giving Rex a long, knowing look. “I’m just saying, you don’t need to keep doing this to yourself. It’s been three years of begging for a good hand.  Might be time to call it and fold.”

Rex clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around the door handle. “I’m not quitting, Duke. She is still my wife, and that’s my son in there.”

“Yeah, I know, but I also know that you are only still married because you have refused to process the paperwork,” Duke replied, his voice calm but pointed. “Every time you show up, she rips you apart and leaves you a little worse than before. She’s not letting you in, partner. You need to come to terms with that.”

Rex’s shoulders tensed, his gaze hardening. “I can’t just walk away, Duke.”

Duke shrugged, shifting back in his seat. “Suit yourself. But I’m telling you now, she’s not giving an inch. You hurt her, Rex. Dragons hold grudges. That kind of hurt doesn’t go away because you brought her boy a present. You are likely going to die old and retired before she ever moves on.”

Rex’s expression darkened, and he looked out the window, effectively shutting down the conversation.

“Look, we have dealt with plenty of dragons in this city.” Duke said as he took hold of the wheel. “I told you before, Katarina is no different. They are all the same.”

A long silence filled the car, and then, without looking at Duke, he muttered, “Just drive, Duke.”

Duke shrugged, turned the key and started the engine.

“Dillo’s?” Rex questioned as Duke pulled the vehicle away from the curb.

As Katarina’s home became a shadow in the rear view mirror, Duke gave a faint smirk, sensing Rex’s shift in mood. “Sure thing.”