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.