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I was alone in my office, seated at my desk, when my father barged in. Before he even spoke, I could tell he was in a bad mood. His face was red, eyebrows furrowed, and hands clenched in tight fists. I had come to recognize when my dad was going to blow up over the years, and I knew he wasn’t just coming in for a friendly chat. He stormed in, stopping in front of my desk, and banging his fists down on it.
“What’s this I hear about trespassers being killed on the spot?” he bellowed.
I sighed. “They technically weren’t trespassing.”
“I don’t f*****g care about technicalities. They were clearly the same assholes who have been casing this place for at least a week. And now we have no f*****g clue what pack they’re from or what their motivation was. What was the first f*****g thing I
