The tires of Jiang Xiao Shuai's sleek black car screech to a halt in the driveway, the sound shattering the peaceful afternoon silence of Maplewood. He doesn't bother with luggage—he'll get what he needs from the house soon enough.

The front door flies open before he even reaches it. His mother stands there, hands clasped nervously, but he pushes past her without a word, his shoulder deliberately colliding with hers. The house smells of holiday cookies and something else—fear. Good.

"You're late," his father says from the living room, voice lacking its usual authority.

Jiang Xiao Shuai turns slowly, a predator assessing its territory. His gaze locks on his father, then slides to where the twins are peeking around the corner, eyes wide. Perfect.

He takes three steps forward, moving with a grace that belies the danger radiating from him, and places one hand on the wall beside his father's head, effectively trapping him. "Miss me, old man?" His voice is low, almost a purr, but there's no warmth in it.

The twins have disappeared, but he knows they're watching. Let them.

"I asked you a question," he says, pressing closer to his father, close enough that their chests almost touch, close enough that his father can feel the heat of his body and the barely restrained aggression coiled within it.