"And you want me to let it go?"
The idea seemed incomprehensible to him. He had witnessed how Miriam had cut her down, how the years of mistreatment had chipped away at her spirit. To let it go was to allow the injustice to continue with Layla, and he wasn't someone who tolerated that.
Layla's lips trembled, but she pressed them into a firm line. "I don't need you to fight this battle for me," she whispered, her eyes still avoiding his. "I've survived it alone for so long. I can survive it a little longer." She was trying to be strong, to show that she didn't need anyone to defend her, even though a part of her longed for someone to stand up for her.
Lucius's gaze softened, but the storm inside him didn't subside. He hated seeing her like this—torn between her own strength and the pain others inflicted on her. "Layla," he said quietly, "you don't have to fight alone anymore. You have me."
