“What were you thinking chasing after them alone?” Ford cried as Dalton once again refused his help in bandaging his bruised and stiff fingers.
“I had to, Dad, it’s my—”
“Don’t tell me it’s your research!” Ford bellowed, unable to look at Dalton without scowling. “It isn’t worth your life.”
“I’ll see you at the office tomorrow, Kev,” Andrew said, moving cautiously out of the corner. “It’s going to be a long night.”
“You are never putting yourself in that type of situation again, do you understand?” Ford growled in a firm, fatherly tone.
“I’m not a kid,” Dalton countered, slowly wrapping his fingers with only the occasional flinch. They looked black and angry and would probably swell. “You can’t ground me and tell me how to live my life.”