Lucian's heart lurched. The memory of his own desperate cries burned hot in his chest, shame rising to choke him. He gritted his teeth, refusing to drop his gaze.
"You twisted fear into entertainment. Don't mistake that for weakness," he hissed, though his breath shook.
Alistair chuckled, circling him like a predator savoring the tremor of prey that still dared to bare its teeth.
"Oh, I don't mistake it." His fingers brushed Lucian's shoulder in mock gentleness, the touch lingering just long enough to make his skin crawl. "I relish it. Watching your mask crack—ah, it's intoxicating."
Lucian jerked his shoulder away, pride burning hotter than the sting of humiliation. "You're pathetic," he spat, voice low but steady. "If this is your idea of power, then you are weaker than I thought."
Alistair stilled. For an instant, his smile faltered, then returned sharper, darker.
