To Rachel's house

John gripped the steering wheel tighter as the engine roared to life. "Forget the park—we're going straight to Rachel's place first," he said, his voice low and rough with anticipation.

Camila arched an eyebrow, her fingers tracing idle circles on her thigh. "You sure? The girls won't be home yet. Rachel’s probably just waking up from her night shift."

"Exactly," John smirked, peeling out of the driveway. "I want to see her before she’s fully awake; see what kind of woman raises daughters like that."

The car tore through the quiet suburban streets, the hum of the engine drowning out Camila’s soft, knowing laugh.

John pulled the car over to the curb a few houses down from Rachel's place, killing the engine. He turned to Camila, his eyes dark with anticipation. "Alright, let's do this. You up for the challenge?"

Camila smirked, her own eyes glinting with excitement. "Oh, I'm up for it alright. Rachel's going to be a tough one because she likes to pretend now she is reformed but wait until she sees what we have planned for her. Just follow my lead."

John chuckled darkly, his hand resting on the door handle as he prepared to step out. "Good. Let's give her a show she'll never forget."