Look at this piece of shit.
Edric Eamon reveled in the sadistic pleasure of burning women with fire and scalding their skin with hot metal. Beneath his veneer of nobility lurked a ruthless wolf, deriving satisfaction from the suffering of women, a twisted expression of dominance.
Lola's icy gaze locked onto him as he secured the door. The lingering effects of his control dissipated, revealing a transformation from a vacant stare to confusion and ultimately disgust on his face.
"Theodore, was it?" he grumbled. "What in the gods' names are we doing up here? How did I... What are you..."
Ignoring his bewildered inquiries, Damien stepped forward with unwavering determination. "So, you enjoy preying on defenseless and innocent women, do you?" he asked, his tone soft yet cutting. "I get it—it's just so easy for you, isn't it?"
"Enough with the charades," he retorted, carefully maintaining a distance he deemed safe. "If this is about the woman downstairs, don't pin your inability to satisfy her on me. She seems like she-"
"Shut up," Damien sharply commanded, interrupting him. "This isn't about her. It's about you. Now, shut your damn mouth and listen."
"Watch your tone, boy!" he barked, his face reddening with anger. "What do you-"
Lola cut off any chance for him to continue, swiftly moving in. His open palm seized Edric's face, forcefully propelling him into the wall. Edric's head collided with the unyielding surface, distorting his vision before slumping down to the floor.
"Tell me," he growled. "Do you recall Violet Lola?"
And then, the look. It was the one Damien Lola had anticipated—the slow realization coupled with a sinking fear. It fueled the fire in his heart, as well as his fingers as a tingling sensation of elemental began to surface in his hand.