Elliott stepped into the throne room and found Zor’d standing there, waiting for him. It was barely six hours into the morning, and his appearance was uncalled for. Elliott’s breath tightened in his chest, and his hand balled into a tight fist.
He stepped further into the throne room, and Zor’d turned around to see him, an emotionless look on his face.
He stepped towards Elliott to speak, but before he could, Elliott punched him in the face. He staggered back a little before stopping himself. His hand lifted to his mouth, and he felt it bleed.
“You didn’t have to take him!” He growled at him, his face turning red and his eyes glowing.
Zor’d wiped at it and glanced up at Elliott, his eyes cold. “I didn’t choose, Mischief did.”
“f**k Mischief!” he yelled and spat on the floor in a show
