"How do you plan to handle them?"
Nate's voice was calm, but the weight of his question filled the car like a ticking time bomb.
Aiden's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white as his jaw tightened. He didn't answer, but the sharp, shallow breaths he drew told Nate everything he needed to know. The rage simmering beneath the surface wasn't just anger—it was a storm waiting to break.
They had left the hospital almost an hour ago. Under normal circumstances, they would have been home by now, but Nate had made sure to take a longer route. The thought of driving straight back to the house filled him with dread. He had seen the look in Aiden's eyes—the barely restrained fury—and he was certain of one thing: if they walked through those doors, Aiden wouldn't hesitate. He would grab Charles or Kimberlee—whichever one was unfortunate enough to cross his path first—and he might just kill them on the spot.
