"Please," Scarlett whispered, her fingers trembling as they wrapped around Lucien's wrist. His skin felt like ice beneath her touch, and she could feel the inhuman strength in his arm as he held her father aloft. "He's my dad."
Lucien's head snapped toward her, his gray eyes nearly black with rage. "Your father?" His voice was a dangerous whisper. "This drunk who reeks of cheap perfume and cheaper alcohol? Who was about to strike his own daughter?"
Her father's face was turning an alarming shade of purple, his legs kicking weakly in the air. Scarlett's heart hammered against her ribs. "Please," she begged. "I know he's terrible, but... please don't kill him."
Something in her voice seemed to reach him. With a sound of disgust, Lucien released his grip. Her father crumpled to the ground
