A King in the Making, A Monster in the Waiting

Mikhailis hesitated briefly, gaze fixed on the sleeping forms of his companions. He clenched his fists, nails biting sharply into his palms. "They'll be safer this way. We can't risk them getting hurt further."

He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. "I can handle their anger. I can't handle losing them."

"Shut it, Rodion," he sighed, though his voice carried no real heat. Rodion's dry humor, even at moments like this, provided an odd sort of comfort—a small, familiar annoyance that anchored him amidst the turmoil of his emotions.