“Sir, how much longer should we wait?”
 Drake’s mouth became a fine line, but he didn’t answer his assistant, his eyes trained on the house as he wrestled with himself.
 I’m getting too old, he told himself. I should have given up when I was still filled with hope for the future, for the boys and for myself.
 “Sir, I feel like – “
 “Smythe! How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t give a rat’s ass how you feel!”
 He reached for the car door, stepping onto the pavement.
 When he turned to secure the vehicle, he caught a glimpse of the younger man’s face and Drake shook his head in bemusement.
 He knew I would jump out of the car the minute he tried to tell me this was pointless, he realized. Am I becoming predictable?
 The idea gave him shivers of apprehension. If Smythe could already read him like a book, how long would it be before Oculus was on his tail again?
 If they aren’t already.
 Drake inhaled and walked up the flagstone way toward the colonial style house, his hopes not as high as he approached.
 Xander warned you that he won’t be willing. But I must try, even if it means another failure.
 His mind turned to his oldest son, Ryder, who had not been overly happy to make his father’s re-acquaintance.
 A long finger jabbed at the doorbell and he heard the chime reverberate through the house.
 Drake glanced back at the heavily tinted SUV waiting in the driveway, noting that there was no other vehicle parked there.
 His eyes took in the pink child’s bicycle and scattered toys, his eyes narrowing as he tried to calculate their significance.
 A niece maybe?
 He realized he knew very little about Xander’s twin. It was the one subject Xander had put off limits - strictly. He said that if his twin wanted to join them in their fight against Oculus, he would tell them about himself in his own time.

  It was a strange sort of loyalty, Drake thought. He couldn’t comprehend why any of his sons wouldn’t want to join them.
 But those toys, he mused. Why were they here? It had never occurred to him that any of his sons would have children. Really, nothing had occurred to him except building his army and defeating Oculus.
 And exacting my revenge on the group who ruined my life, the people who killed Shirley and turned my boys inside out. A con artist, an assassin, a clandestine operative and a…
 He realized he had no idea what Aiden did for a living, but from what he could glean, it did not seem to follow in the footsteps of his other brothers.
 But Drake was certain if Aiden or his siblings had bred, none of their offspring would be female. Conways did not have girls. Genetically, it was impossible…wasn’t it?
 A stab of worry struck Drake, but it was one with which he was familiar. He had been consumed by it several times over the years.
 How much did he really know about what had been done to him when he was in the military? He only knew what he had been told by the government, but nothing had aligned with what he knew as fact.
 You can’t even say for certain that it was your own country who performed the experiments on you.
 “Hello.”
 He almost jumped as the door swung inward and he was facing a middle-aged woman staring at him expectantly.
 There was no suspicion in her face, nothing but genuine curiosity as she stared at him and Drake tried to remember the last time he had appeared on anyone’s doorstep to be greeted with a smile.
 “Hello,” he said, trying to regain his composure. “I am looking for Aiden…Van Hoyt. Is he home?”
 The woman shook her white-blonde head.
 “I’m sorry, he’s out for the evening. Are you a client? I can take your paperwork and will call you on Monday.”
 Drake’s brow furrowed in confusion.
 “A client?” he echoed, looking around for a sign to indicate what business his son might run from the well-manicured house. 
 “Oh,” the woman laughed. “It’s tax season. I just assume everyone is dropping off their receipts. Sorry. Can I leave a message for Aiden?”
 Drake gaped at her, uncomprehendingly.
 “He -he’s an accountant?” he guessed, and she eyed him, her eyes narrowing for the first time.
 “Who are you?” she asked sharply, and Drake shook his head, trying to contain his dubiousness.
 “He doesn’t know me…I mean, I knew him as a child…never mind. When will he be home?”
 She stared at him as if debating whether to accept his story.
 Over her shoulder, Drake saw a flurry of movement.
 “I’m not sure. Late, most likely. Who should I say stopped by?”
 Suddenly, a pair of solemn grey eyes poked out at him and Drake was again startled by the face of a girl staring back at him.
 The child’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him, their gazes locking.
 “My name is Drake Conway. I’ll…come back tomorrow,” Drake said quickly, stepping back. But his gaze was still locked on the young girl.
 “He won’t be here tomorrow,” the child told him. “You should come back on Sunday.”
 Drake nodded slowly.
 “Thank you,” he replied, tearing his eyes from her face to give her caretaker a short smile.
 The door closed at his back, but Drake could not help but turn back to look at the girl who remained in the entranceway window, peering out at him.
 You have the same eyes as my dad.
 The message came straight through to his mind, and it stunned Drake to his core as he froze in place. 
 Aiden is your father? He asked her. Her smoky eyes grew to saucers and she jumped back, the curtain falling where her face had been, but Drake did not move.
 Can you hear me? He called out to her. What’s your name?
 There was no answer, but goosebumps erupted over Drake’s arms as he remembered all the silent conversations he’d had with the boys when they were young.
 And now it seemed that not only had Aiden fathered a girl, but she could communicate telepathically too.
 He wanted to pound on the door, demanding the girl come out and speak to him but he dared not scare her any more.
 All he could do was wait.
 Again.