Roan Landais grunted as another blow hit him in the stomach. The next blow to his jaw sent him to one knee. He bowed his head and spit out the blood.
“I should slit your throat for your betrayal,” Coleridge coldly stated, circling around his son.
Roan didn’t respond. He knew his father well enough to know the man wasn’t looking for a response. This was about control, power, and intimidation. He wanted Roan to feel fear and to cower.
“No words?” Coleridge menacingly chuckled. “You had no words when I slit Calstar’s throat, either,” he mocked his son.
Roan kept his head bowed, his eyes focused on the black boots walking around him. His fingers curled into fists as he swallowed back his angry retort. He felt a brief wave of grief at the death of his grandfather. He quickly pushed the feel
