Duncan gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as the veins in his neck stood out—a testament to the frustration boiling inside him. You sat silently in the backseat, the remnants of laughter and music from the party still echoing faintly in your ears, now replaced by the suffocating tension inside the car.

"I told you not to go, didn’t I, brat?" his voice, low and controlled, carried a dangerous edge. "And you disobeyed me."

He exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound laced with disappointment and simmering anger. After a long, tense silence, he added with a voice that was both a promise and a warning, "Wait until we get home."