Clint had already heated Zephyr's bottle up before the doorbell went, so he could give him his feed while they chatted. He was glad Hunter was able to come along because it was important not to let their eye off the ball, being there was a sick kid in all of this admitted to a closed ward on a psych unit. Hunter might not have kids of his own, but he worked with kids like Justin all the time. His other half also had a mental illness and battled addictions. It wasn't all that long ago Cruz took a turn for the worst and nearly killed himself. Hunter got it as well as they all did. Clint just wished like fuck they didn't have to be there and the poor kid was just safe and well. This was why he did the job he did, though. So cunts like the kid's biological mother didn't get away with the evil shit they tried to pull off.

Clint could still see Justin's haunted eyes in his head the night he came to see him, laying money on the line for Clint to get rid of her. That was sheer desperation and panic. It wasn't a criminal act. The fact Justin was pushed that far said a lot. He could have tried to take matters into his own hands and gotten into a lot of trouble, but Clint knew Justin was just as much a scared kid as the rest of them. He might have status and fame, but that didn't mean he safe and well. It didn't guarantee him immunity from his demons. Clint shook his head, focusing on trying to get his son to take the bottle so he didn't get up and punch a wall. "Fucking cunt. Harming a fucking kid like that. It's fucking vile. As if he can't self-destruct on his own. That's why my digging turned up. She spilled her fucking guts to another cunt inside. How she's his mother, fucking bragging about who he is and trying to throw her fucking weight around because of it. Told 'em how she made easy money off him before he was famous. That he'd always been a kid fucked in the head because of his father's genes, so it didn't matter. That she shoulda had him scraped when she had the chance."