Prologue
When he strode into the nursery and found it empty, a loud screech of rage burst from him. A primal, venomous sound that shook the plaster and would have made the one who'd angered him wet her pants in fright. . . if she were here.
The screamer, in the grip of a full-blown tantrum, grabbed the nearby rocking chair and swung it hard against the wall, splintering it into matchsticks.
Not enough.
He tore the soft, white bedding from the crib and ripped it to tatters. But his rage bubbled like a volcanic inferno requiring ever more fuel. He kicked the wall, right through a hand-painted bunny, the momentary pain ignored by his adrenaline-soaked body. He ripped down the mobile hanging on the crib and flung it to crash into the wall, its fluffy little sheep lying in a tangled heap
