Rafael's POV
I reached out and grabbed my wife's hand, holding her back as she stepped toward the man, but she gave me a reassuring look, her lips silently forming it's okay, and brushed my hand away.
"Nana, no. Let us handle him. You don't understand how dangerous—"
I gripped her wrist again, and she frowned at me sharply, letting out a heavy, irritated sigh.
"Let me take the kids. I don't care what you do to him, but not in front of them."
"But kids can be dangerous too, Na—"
"Oh, for God's sake, Rafael! Look at their eyes. They're terrified."
"They could be acting. I've seen weaponised children in—"
"This isn't your war zone!" she snapped, glaring straight at me. "And I feel genuine fear when I see it. If something is wrong with them, it's always an adult's fault. And as adults, we're supposed to show them the right path. That's how I raised our kids all this time."
