"If you were going to act out of character, you might as well return to where you belong," McKenna said darkly the moment he stormed into his study and tossed the letter on the table.
Maxwell sat by the window, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded in a calm, composed way—like McKenna's outburst was the least of his concerns.
"Did you know you scared her?" McKenna snapped, shooting daggers at the reaper.
Maxwell didn't even glance at him. His eyes remained closed, like he was deep in meditation and that only made McKenna angrier.
"I don't ever want to see you here again."
"Unfortunately," Maxwell said calmly, "that's impossible. I must keep balance as it should be."
McKenna began to pace, his hand curling into a fist each time, one he was barely holding back from landing on the reaper. The thought of how Maxwell had frightened his wife, then sat here acting so indifferent, made his blood boil.
