"Why are you looking for her?" Dutch asked in a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated with dangerous authority.
Chapter III: The False Authority
The man squared his shoulders, attempting to project confidence against the room of towering leather-clad men.
"I’m her legal foster guardian, Mark Caldwell," the man lied, reaching into his pocket to flash an expired state custody ID. "She’s an unruly runaway with behavioral problems. State law requires her return to my custody immediately. Hand her over, or I'm calling the county sheriff."
Dutch didn't blink. He didn't ask to see the card.
Instead, Dutch leaned back slightly, his deep baritone cutting through Caldwell’s bluster like a razor:
"Funny thing about runaways, Mark. Kids don't run three miles barefoot through a blizzard unless the monster they're running from is living under their own roof."
Caldwell’s face twitched. His arrogant facade cracked, his hand dropping from his pocket.