Maxen's jaw clenched as he shook his hands from the stinging pain. Closing his eyes, he felt disappointment paint all over his face when Wyatt's hateful words rang in his ears. And as if his punch was not enough, he pulled Wyatt's hair back, tilting his chin up.
"Just. Answer. The. Question. Commander."
Wyatt's eye darted to the side where Maxen stood. He saw the latter's glare was enough to stab him and bring him to his untimely death. He knew Maxen rarely got angry, but if he did, one must know to bow down to him and beg for mercy. Gritting his teeth, he replied, "Yes, Your Highness."
"Very well." Maxen let go of Wyatt's hair, sneering when he heard Ollie let out a sigh of relief.
"Brother, you don't have to punch him!" he exclaimed, wiping his hand over his face.
"He's spouting gibberish. Somebody has to put some sense into him." Maxen sat on the bed, studying Wyatt. He scoffed when the dickhead spew out blood on the carpet.
