EIGHT: Bad Daddy

Dominic's drive home with Aaron and Winnie was filled with an uncomfortable silence. He couldn't shake off the feeling of regret that had been building up since he stormed into the bookstore. He had overreacted, and he knew it.

He gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly, knuckles white against the worn leather. The crisp sea air whipping through the car offered a welcome contrast to the turmoil brewing inside him. Shame gnawed at him, a bitter aftertaste to the initial surge of relief that had flooded him upon finding Aaron and Winnie safe. In his frantic state, fueled by a terror he refused to acknowledge at the time, he hadn't stopped to consider things from the shop clerk's perspective.

She'd been responsible, watchful, the very picture of someone entrusted with children's safety. The memory of her calm demeanor, the way she'd scooped Winnie into her arms, contrasted harshly with his own bluster. Logic whispered, loud and clear, that if a stranger had tried to snatch Aar