"I apologize on his behalf," Layla said softly.
"You don't have to, Layla," Demitri replied, placing his mug down on the table with a gentle clink. His gaze remained steady, though a flicker of unease passed through his eyes. "I always knew that one day Lucius would do it. You shouldn't let this trouble you."
"How can I not be worried?" Layla countered, a hint of disappointment lacing her words. Her lips curled into a faint, bitter smile as her gaze dropped to the table. "It pains me to see him working so hard, painstakingly piecing together every shred of evidence he finds. Do you know the first time I saw him? He was drenched in the rain, covered in bruises, and looked utterly devastated. I can still picture the look on his face."
Demitri remained silent, lowering his eyes to avoid her piercing gaze.
