Alexander grabbed his coat and allowed Raphael to lead him outside.
Behind them, Michael stayed behind to deal with the chaos that had erupted in the private room.
The cold night air hit Alexander's face as they stepped out of the building.
"What the hell was that, Alexander?" Raphael demanded.
Alexander didn't answer.
He simply continued walking toward the car.
Raphael frowned but followed.
The moment they got inside, Raphael started the engine but didn't drive off immediately.
He glanced at Alexander.
Alexander's eyes were closed, his head resting against the seat. His injured hand lay against the door, dried blood visible across his knuckles.
For a moment, he looked less like the powerful Alexander Blackwood and more like a man who had completely run out of strength.
"Alexander," Raphael said again, his voice calmer this time. "Are you alright?"
A bitter laugh escaped Alexander.
"You heard what he was saying about Alicia."
"I did."
