I pulled into my parents’ driveway and turned off my engine. Laying my head back against the seat, I stared up at the fading light of the evening sky with a heavy sigh. Thank fuck Preston was here with my dads right now, thanks to his advanced pregnancy.

I had a feeling he would need Papa's support when I told him what Jonah's mysterious hacker friend had found. One of these days I would have to meet the ephemeral Pax—if Jonah would ever allow it. The curtain at the front window twitched, and my mate's face appeared on the other side of the glass.

Before I even had a chance to push on the door handle, the front door swung open and Preston waddled out onto the porch. He looked so adorable standing there with one hand resting on that large mound of baby. I swear, he'd gone overnight from having a baby bump to looking like he was smuggling a basketball under his shirt.

After I grabbed the keys from the ignition, and made sure I had my cell phone, I slipped out of the car and ran up the walk. Preston went up on tiptoe to fling his arms around my neck the moment I reached him. Chuckling, I bent and swung an arm behind his knees to lift him up. As I carried him into the house, I kissed him gently on the temple.

"Somebody is sure in a good mood. How are you feeling today, Princess?"

"Better, now that my mate is here. Don't think we’re rushing right home though, Papa made me lasagna for dinner—I'm not going anywhere until I've eaten at least half of that pan."

"He probably could, too," Papa said indulgently from the dining room doorway off to my left as I closed the front door behind me. "I think my granddaughter is starving in there, based on how much she's making her poor daddy eat."

Preston lifted his head from my shoulder as he turned to respond. "No, Papa. I don't think that's it. It's just that I've never had such delicious food in my life."

Papa stood aside while I carried Preston into the dining room and took a seat at the table with my lap full of omega. Dad was sitting there with a cup of coffee and his tablet. He looked up at us from over the rim of his glasses.

"Be careful saying things like that to your papa, little PP. He's already trying to convince me that we need a guest room suite put together for you and the baby to stay in when Noah is away on missions. If you don't watch out, he'll try to move you right in."

Papa giggled on his way back to the kitchen. "Oh, stop it, Ray. Don't give my secrets away."

I growled playfully. "You guys are allowed to borrow my mate when I'm away, but don't think you're going to be moving him or my daughter in here."

Preston tapped two fingers against his lip thoughtfully. "I don't know, Papa makes the best food I've ever eaten. I wasn't lying about that—I'm pretty sure I could be bought with food, now that I think about it."

"Oh, you flatter me, sweet boy!" Papa's voice floated in from the next room where he was clattering around putting the finishing touches on dinner. "I'm quite certain, given your background, that you've eaten your fair share of Michelin star meals."

"True. But those chefs lacked your secret ingredient, Papa."

Papa's head popped around the corner of the kitchen doorway, looking at Preston curiously. "Secret ingredient? And what exactly would that be, sweet boy?"

"Love, obviously. Duh. You show us all how much you care with every meal you cook." Preston shrugged as though this were the most obvious statement he'd ever made.

I glanced over to see a tear running down Papa's cheek as he smiled adoringly at my mate. "You caught me, sweet boy. That is precisely my secret ingredient. And just for that, you get an extra slice of the coconut cream pie I made for dessert."

Dad jerked his head toward Papa. "Hey, that's my pie! You can't be giving away my pie."

Papa stuck his tongue out at Dad before disappearing back into the kitchen. "It's my pie, because I baked it. And you better behave, or you won’t be getting any of my pies—if you know what I mean."

Preston giggled at my disgusted groan. Dad just grinned proudly. "Just wait, son. You have your own pup on the way now. Just think of all the ways you’ll be able to embarrass that girl someday. Trust me, it's fun."

It wasn't until we were halfway through dinner, that I remembered what I'd needed to talk to Preston about. Something about being around my mate just made me forget about the rest of the world and focus solely on him. Unfortunately, this needed to be dealt with…

Setting my fork aside, I blotted my lips with a napkin and looked across the table at my mate. He was plowing through his second serving of lasagna and probably his fourth or fifth slice of garlic bread.

"After dinner, we need to have a discussion, Princess. I wanted to talk to you here, because you might need to stay with the dads while I go out of town tomorrow."

Preston swallowed what was in his mouth, and took a large drink of water. After wiping his mouth, he looked at me curiously before speaking.

"Why would I need to stay with our dads? You don't have a new mission, do you?"

Dad raised a brow at me before looking back at Papa. "I don't know of any new missions, do you, Justin?"

"No, I certainly do not. What's this about, son? You brought it up, so just spit it out."

Setting my fork down with a clatter against the china plate, I smiled apologetically at my mate.

"Jonah's hacker buddy—"

"Pax?" Preston offered, interrupting me gently with the guy’s name.

"How do you know—” I shook my head. “Nevermind. Anyway, as I was saying, Pax was able to dig into those files we got from STAHP. We have evidence of your father's dirty dealings. He got deep into your dad’s system, and provided us with all the documentation we needed of his misuse of power. He's done everything he was accused of, and more… Money-laundering primarily, but he's also provided guns for the cartels in addition to laundering their drug money."

I took a deep breath before I finished my thought. "And, I hate to tell you this part—but there is definitive proof that your father has been involved in an omega trafficking ring."

To my surprise, Preston didn't look as though I'd told him anything he didn't already know. The three of us sat quietly watching Preston as he delicately nibbled from a piece of garlic bread and chewed it, his eyes looking thoughtfully off into space for a moment before he turned his attention back to me.

"So, what are you going to do about it? And, what does this have to do with me staying here with our dads?"

Papa reached over to pat Preston's hand. "Sweet boy, every time you call us your dads, I melt a little more. We love you so much, and are so happy that you are part of our family now. I'm so sorry about your daddy though. I know that was hard to hear."

Dad starting humming We Are Family while he chewed his last bite from his plate.

Preston shook his head. "You guys didn’t grow up with my father. Trust me, I know very well that the man who lives behind closed doors is not the same charming politician that appears in the media. And for the record? I only have two dads—and you're both sitting right here. That man is nothing more than my sperm donor at this point. He wanted to get rid of my baby, and as far as I'm concerned, that makes him no longer family. And don't even get me started on all the other things he's done to me over the years."

He looked down at his fork, as he stroked his thumb along the handle. "I honestly don't know why he even had a kid. Or kept me, to be honest. Except for the fact that my mom left us. He didn't really have a choice but to keep me, I guess. Besides, being a single father made him look good in the polls—at least, until I got old enough to act out. Let's just say that I had a little more fun than I should have trying to get bad press."

I wanted to wish my fathers away right now so that I could cuddle my mate skin to skin and take away all of his pain, but now was not the time for that. Pressing forward, I continued with my intentions for the following day.

"My plan is to confront your father with two options. He can voluntarily retire—or I will see to it that all of this is released to the press. It's up to him whether he returns to the private sector in dignity–or heads to prison in manacles."

Preston looked me in the eye. "And so you thought, what? That I was just going to sit here like a good little mate with your dads while you went off to do this without me? No. That's not how this is going to play out. I'm going with you. You can either take me, or I will sneak out and show up there on my own. Either way–I need to be there."

Before I could argue, my dad slapped his hand flat on the table surface, and nodded his approval. "Good idea. I approve. But given your condition, perhaps we should wait?"

I shook my head. "This can't wait. I won't feel safe for Preston or our daughter until his father has been removed from power. Besides, who knows how many more guns, drugs, or omegas would be transported while we wait?"

Papa stood and began clearing our half-eaten plates. He paused long enough to pat Preston on the shoulder. "Finish up your lasagna, sweet boy. I'm off to dish up pie. We have packing to do, so we'd better get to it."

Dad's head swiveled to follow Papa as he left the room with a stack full plates. "Packing, dear?"

"Of course, babe. Obviously, we have to go with them."

Dad and I shared a measured look of frustration while Preston happily polished off his dinner. Papa had spoken, and Dad and I both knew better than to argue.

* * *

"Fuck your proof, mutt. I can buy and sell all of your asses any day of the week, and twice on Sunday. All I’d have to do is snap my fingers and your team would be gone—and all of you with it." The senator snarled, taking the papers I'd given him and feeding them into the shredder behind his desk.

I shook my head. "Talk all the shit you want, Tierney. That was just one set of printouts. All you destroyed there was a few pennies worth of paper and ink. And I have all the proof I need, trust me. Oh, and by the way? My friend, Pax, said to tell you hello and to remind you that he’d advised you three years ago that using your birthday was a crappy idea for a password."

The senator's face paled as he began to sputter. "P-Pax has been in my system? Is that what you're telling me? I'll have his fucking head."

"I'm pretty sure you'd have to find him first, wouldn't you say?" Preston spoke snidely from where he stood between my two dads. "Admit it, Patrick. You're done. Call it a day, announce your retirement, and go play in your hotels. But, if I ever see you in politics again, I will personally make it my sole ambition to reveal every skeleton in your closet."

Patrick Tierney's lip curled in distaste as he looked at his only child. "Shut up, you sniveling little coward. Standing there between those two men as if they can protect you from me. I should've drowned you at birth—or sent you with your mother when I kicked that bitch to the curb and sent her back where she came from.."

I was halfway out of my chair, prepared to rearrange the piece of shit's face for talking to my mate like that, when Preston's voice stopped me.

"Wait, Noah." He stepped forward, looking at his father in horror. "What do you mean you kicked my mother to the curb? You told me she abandoned us. You said she didn't want me—what do you mean you sent her away? Where. Is. My. Mother?"

Preston's spoke in a low, menacing tone that I'd never heard before from him. His eyes flashed gold as his wolf surged beneath the surface. I stood and moved to his side protectively, but stayed quiet to give him the autonomy he deserved in this moment.

"You're damned right I sent her way. Stupid bitch," Patrick muttered as he pushed back his rolling chair and swiveled to glare his son. "Where she is now, I couldn't tell you. Best guess? Probably in that trailer park outside of Detroit where she was spawned. I wouldn't bother looking for her though, the bitch is probably halfway down a bottle—if she hasn't killed her liver by now. I doubt it though, trash people like her always seem to live forever just to annoy the rest of us good people."

Preston was vibrating with rage. "Don't ever lump yourself in with good people just because you have money. You are nothing but a piece of shit in a nice suit." Resting a hand on his belly, Preston leaned forward. "I hope you live long enough to be lonely and miserable for the rest of your pathetic life. You've not only thrown away your only son, you've lost your only shot at ever knowing your granddaughter."

With that, Preston turned on his heel and headed for the door. He caught Papa's hand and the two of them exited together with their heads held high while Dad and I stayed behind to make sure that Patrick Tierney knew we weren't making idle threats.

Later that evening, Preston and I held hands as our small plane landed just outside of Detroit. My two dads sat across from us, still along for the ride. Dad looked up from his screen.

"Check your phone, son. Jonah sent Cecelia's address while we were in the air. The car will be waiting as soon as we deplane, so we should be outside her home in the next twenty minutes."

Papa smiled worriedly at Preston. "Sweetheart, you're trembling. Don't be nervous. I have a good feeling about this, trust me."

Preston nodded, but didn't speak until we were in the car. The silence was tense as we drove through the empty streets of a shady part of town. I was watching my mate’s reflection in the car window, when he began to speak softly.

"He always told me that she'd chosen alcohol over me. That I was such a bad baby and she drank to numb herself from my constant screaming. He said she’d become a full-blown alcoholic by the time I was walking. When he tried to put her in rehab for the fourth time, she signed herself out and disappeared. She only left a note behind telling him to keep the brat and never contact her again."

Wrapping my arm around his slim shoulders, I pulled Preston closer until he rested his head on my chest. "I doubt every part of that story, Princess. If your mother had a drinking problem, it had nothing to do with you."

"But what if she still drinks and doesn't want to get help? Or, what if Patrick was right and her health has declined from it? What if I'm finally finding her, only to lose her soon? This is a bad idea, Noah–we shouldn’t have come here. Let’s just go home."

"But what if… What if everything your father told you was a lie?" Papa asked quietly. "Don't you think that maybe you owe it to yourself and your daughter to find out?"

Preston sucked in a shaky breath, and was silent for a moment before he finally nodded.

"You're right, Papa. Patrick Tierney doesn't exactly have the track record of being an honest sperm donor, does he? Okay, let's go find out for ourselves."

"Good plan, kiddo." Dad chuckled and pointed at the rundown trailer park we were pulling into. "Because we're here."

I looked around at the obviously poor, yet meticulously clean neighborhood. This was not a place where users and abusers went to die. This appeared to be a community of hard-working people who fought to make ends meet.

The driver pulled up outside of a simple looking single wide trailer. Wilting peonies lined the pathway to the steps that led to the front door. Papa and Dad went first, while I helped Preston navigate the stairs. He was a week away from his due date, and this hellish day had been a lot harder than was recommended for somebody in his condition.

Shit, he shouldn't have even been flying. But wild horses couldn't have kept him from pursuing this immediately. As my Papa had advised—my best choice was to just shut up and help him do what he needed to do. But hell if that wasn't hard for an alpha like me.

She must have heard us arrive, because Dad’s fist was just lifting to knock on the door when it swung open. A clear-eyed, older, yet feminine, version of my mate stood there with a pleasant smile on her gently lined face.

"Hello, there. Can I help you gentlemen?" She turned her head to greet us all, then cried out with a soft whimper when she laid eyes on Preston. Her hands flew to her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks as she drank in the sight of her son.

Papa spoke gently. "As you can see, we've brought some special company for you." The poor thing seemed frozen, as Papa continued. "Perhaps we could come in? There is no doubt in my mind that you are Cecelia Tierney, and I think it would be best if our sweet boy here got off his feet—in case you missed it, he's more than a little bit pregnant with our grandchild."

"Our?" Mrs. Tierney finally said, as she broke from her stupor, blinking with confusion as she stepped aside to invite us in.

"Oh, dear,” Papa answered. “Please forgive my rudeness. I'm Justin Perkins, and this is my husband Raymond. Our son, that big guy back there with yours—is Noah. Our sons are fated mates, and they’ve been together for about three months."

Papa easily carried the conversation as Cecelia led us into a small living room. Her furniture was threadbare yet clean. I helped Preston down onto the low couch, then settled down beside him. He still hadn't spoken, his eyes tracking his mother hungrily as she fluttered around making sure we all had seats before finally settling nervously into a chair across from us.

"Does… That is to say…" She shook her head as if clearing it before she swallowed nervously and spoke again. "Patrick. Does he know you're here?"

That broke Preston's silence. "Who cares if he does? He is no longer anything to me. He wanted me to abort my baby, and then stuck me into Ivory Towers to force my hand. He told me to abort her or he’d get rid of her. I don't know if his plans were to kill her or sell her, but he told me I couldn't keep her."

Cecilia's face flushed red. "Typical. Every time we had a disagreement—I found myself stuck in that awful place. I'm so sorry, baby. Please know how badly I've yearned to be with you, and that I never would've left you alone with that man if I'd had a choice."

Preston grew silent. I sandwiched his small hand between mine as I turned to his mom. "Perhaps you could tell us about that, Cecilia."

She held up a hand. "Please, call me Cindy. That fancy name is such a mouthful. I realize that Cindy isn't a natural correlation, but it's easier to spell for most people." Her laugh was light, easy—this was a woman used to happiness. Sobering, she smiled gently at her son before she spoke again.

"I don't know what your father told you. But he had me put into Ivory Towers myself, after I refused to entertain a client for him, shall we say. He said that if I refused to help further his career, then I could just go back where I came from. By the time I got out of Ivory Towers, he'd changed the locks and phone numbers—and put up that fancy gate. His security goons wouldn't even let me on the property."

Preston lifted his chin. "Surely you could have gone public? Hired a lawyer, something?"

Cindy shook her head sadly. "At the time, no. I tried—but nobody believed me. I'd been painted publicly as a drunk who'd been in and out of rehab, and it was my word against his. And I had no money of my own. When he removed me from the accounts, I was penniless. Then he held you up like a brass ring. His secretary called me finally, and told me that if I left well enough alone, the senator would allow us to have visitation at some point in the future. I held onto that for a long time—but every letter and gift I sent you was returned as refused. I thought you didn't want me in your life."

She stood and held up a hand. "Hold on, I'll prove it." Moving over to a small closet near the front door, she pulled out a large box and brought it over to set down on the floor at our feet. Inside was a plethora of returned letters, cards, and packages. Preston's eyes grew wide, as he stared at it in wonder, before looking up at his mother again.

"You mean, you really didn't choose drinking over me? You… cared about me?"

Cindy came over and knelt down at Preston’s side, holding her arms wide with a nervous, tremulous smile. "Cared? No, baby. Cared is too weak a word. I love you. Just as much as you already love that baby you're carrying under your heart right now, that's how much I've always loved you—and always will. Even if I had been an alcoholic, which I wasn't, I would never have chosen a substance over my son. Please forgive me for allowing your father to keep us apart."

With a cry of happiness, Preston threw himself forward into his mother's waiting arms. I heard Papa crying softly, and looked over to smile at him as I blinked away my own tears—only to find that it was my dad who was the one crying while Papa smiled beautifically at the tableau of mother and son.

Preston's happy cries changed a second later to a sharp squeak as he pulled back and grabbed his belly. Fluid gushed from between his legs, splashing the bottom of the box and the hem of his mother’s dress as we all stared at it in shock.

Papa was naturally the first to react. "Cindy, I think you'll need to direct us to the nearest shifter hospital. It seems as though our granddaughter is in a hurry to meet you too."