The door creaked open, and two officers stepped in, flanking the tall, broad shouldered man between them.

Mr. Kingston.

He still carried himself like he owned the room, even in a now wrinkled shirt and those iron cuffs worn around his wrists.

His silver hair was slightly disheveled, but his eyes were sharp and calculating as ever, as they swept over Aaron and Lucas with a certain cool assessment like he was in a meeting or a conference

“Boys,” he said evenly, his tone almost casual. ...