"If I were truly heartless," Beron interrupted, his deep baritone cutting through the heavy air with an icy, unforgiving sharpness, "do you honestly think I would have fallen for Malcolm?"
The Warlord didn't blink as he stared into Holino's wide eyes. He leaned forward, resting his thick forearms on the surface, every muscle in his broad shoulders taut with an agonizing, suppressed frustration.
"I am not a heartless monster, Holino," Beron spat out quietly, the words weighted with a bitter, dangerous truth. "I am simply a man who is bitterly disappointed that I ended up trapped here with you... instead of your brother."
The sharp confession hung between them like a drawn blade. Holino's sly smirk froze. The dramatic, provocative armor he wore so naturally cracked just enough to reveal the sudden, agonizing sting beneath it. Yet, instead of pulling back, Holino tilted his head, his eyes searching Beron's unyielding face with a mixture of raw vulnerability and desperate curiosity.
