"You better have answers. I'm not in the mood to play nice either."
The woman trembled under their gaze. She could hear her own gulp echoing in her ears, and her throat drying up quickly. The tension in the room was so thick it felt like it had grown limbs, reaching out to choke her.
"Priscilla Reed," Mint called to get her attention, stressing each syllable. "Let's have a nice chat, shall we?"
The woman, Priscilla, Nina's biological mother, turned to Mint. She drew a deep, jagged breath as she clasped her hand on her lap. But before she could say anything, a painful throb struck her head.
"Aw—" Priscilla winced as she touched the side of her head where it throbbed painfully.
"Don't be dramatic," Slater clicked his tongue in irritation. "You were hit in the head, but it's nothing serious. Sleep it off and you'll be fine."
Priscilla clenched her teeth and glared at him.
"What?" he asked dryly. "Why are you glaring at me? If anyone should be glaring here, it's us—at you."
