Beron's lip curled into a crude, ugly sneer. He glanced over his shoulder toward the locked transport, then turned back to Malcolm, his posture oozing malicious satisfaction.
"I mean exactly what I said," Beron spat out, his baritone dripping with harsh, humiliating venom. "That stupid little brother of yours, the one who runs around sleeping with whoever catches his eye, just got his slutty ass pregnant with my baby."
Malcolm didn't eyes flicked over to the dark glass of the car where Holino was trapped, but his expression stayed firmly controlled, devoid of the panic or despair Beron so desperately wanted to see.
"I know my brother," Malcolm said smoothly, his voice dropping into a quiet, cutting register. "Holino would never choose someone like you. He has always preferred the delicate, elegant types—people who carry themselves like Dahmer, people with youthful, striking appearances like the Lukas lineage. He would never go out of his way for a rough, scarred brute like you."
