Lucy's eyes narrowed. Her fingers tightened around the hilt as her blood sword began to form in her hand once again.
"Dr. Nikolai Makarov," she repeated, her tone laced with disdain. "Tell me why I shouldn't end this right now."
The old doctor chuckled lowly, straightening his posture. His dark, sunken eyes gleamed with a twisted excitement, enjoying the tension.
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of stopping you," he said, spreading his arms wide, his lab coat fluttering.
"But if you kill me, you'll never find what I've done to your precious friend."
Lucy's fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword. "What did you do to him?"
Nikolai raised a finger, wagging it mockingly. "Now, now, Your Majesty, patience,"
Lucy hesitated. She knew Nikolai was mocking her, but the thought of Asher's well being clouded her judgment.
