TWENTY-FOUR: HOME

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: HOME

Lucas stormed down the alley, his heavy footed steps crunching the snow as he made his way to Curly's shop. He was angry, mad, no, furious. He couldn't believe that Mason would do that to him. He knew he wasn't home much anymore, that he set a terrible example, but that didn't negate the fact that he was Mason's father. Respect was still tangible.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He hadn't had a drink for a while, he was trying to get better, he really was. It was just all so hard. Bad habits were hard to break.

A dark blue caught the corner of his eye and he stopped, his brows creased and a frown on his face. He turned to the blue painted wall, transfixed by the two goldfish. Mason.

Lucas growled at himself, angry once again. This is what he was doing to his son. He could still remember the day that he came with his first tattoo after forging his mother's signature, it was the same image. Lucas smacked him because it. Yes, he was an alcoholic, but that didn't mean that he wanted his kid ruining his future, and a tattoo on the wrist was extremely hard to cover up when it came to job interviews. Mason had then resorted to scream back that he did it for him, he got the tattoo for Lucas, leaving him stunned and ashamed. Of course, with time things fade and memories become distant.

Lucas started back down the alley once more, his hands clenched into tight knuckled fists. He wouldn't start physical with Curly, but there was no guarantee that it wouldn't end that way.

As always the back door to Curly's shop was unlocked and he had no trouble getting in.

The room was empty, the long table that sat in the middle of the room held nothing more than an empty animal cage. Just that. Lucas frowned, the door wouldn't be unlocked if he wasn't here.

A light flicked on behind the glass, allowing Lucas to see the cages in the other room, and Curly as well. That was it.

"Hey," he started, rounding the table and entering the back room. Curly turned around, surprised as he ran a hand through his thinning hair. The old black wolf in the back cage rose to his feet, a low growl starting in his throat. "Where's Mason?"

Curly watched Lucas in disbelief. As if he would know.

"He's your kid," he suggested. "How would I know?"

"Jodi says he was here last."

"So you actually dared to go home then." The wolf fell silent, watching the exchange.

"Shut up," Lucas snapped, "I'm trying to fix things here, so just tell me where he is and I'll be out of your hair." Curly crossed his arms over his chest.

"I honestly don't know where your son is Lucas, trust me. He picked up his stuff earlier in the week and I haven't seen him sense." Lucas shook his head. He wanted to trust Curly and believe that Mason wasn't working for him anymore, but he couldn't wrap his mind around it. His son wouldn't just run off, he would be home by dark. Lucas had taught him that much at least. Where was he?

"I know where he is," a raspy voice whispered. Curly straightened up ever so slightly as Lucas rose a curious brow, glancing over the man's shoulder and at the other man in the room. Correction, the other man in the cage.

The man coughed, clearing his throat before shuffling closer to the bars.

"I said, I-I know where the boy is."

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