𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐋
My brow knitted when he draped his coat over Veronique's shoulders.
She froze, but she did not move to discard it.
"How is my daughter faring?" he asked, a sharp, artificial smile curving his lips.
I had no plans to oblige him with a reply, remaining perfectly still until Selene's brows furrowed and relaxed again beneath my hand.
"She took quite a beating," he went on, stepping closer.
Selene muttered something incoherent, her face contorting into a mask of pure discomfort as his voice drifted over her.
"But she took the beating like a champ. I am surprised."
She shook her head slightly against the pillow, as if she were trying to shake off the sound of his voice even in her deep sleep. Even subconsciously, she could not stand his presence.
"No…" The word fell softly from her pale lips, a desperate, breathless plea.
I pushed up from my seat, my massive frame completely blocking him out as I met his gaze. "I would prefer you left, Kustav."
