"Stop!" he roared, standing there like karma on a mission.
"Your Grace?" Edgar gasped, the whip instantly falling from his hand and onto the floor.
The other guards stepped away from Elian, heads bowed in fear.
Without looking at any of them, Lucien strode over to Elian, who was groaning on the floor as he lay face flat.
"Get up," he ordered coldly.
Elian chuckled, lifting himself to kneel on the floor.
"Get up?" he questioned, lifting his face to Lucien.
Lucien's jaw clenched the moment he saw Elian's face.
Fingerprints ran across his cheeks, leaving red marks behind.
His lips were bruised, and the hair Ms. Beck had put in order was once again in ruins.
Not the sight he wanted.
"Just let them beat me to death. After all, that's what you want—"
"Get up, Elian," Lucien repeated, calm, almost cold.
But if anyone watched closely, they would see the way his knuckles turned white as he restrained himself from lifting Elian's stubborn self himself.
