Lory hiccuped mid-sob, flinching back when her uncle raised his voice.

For a man who beat women, Elijah sounded … reasonable? It was a trick, of course, but at least he didn’t seem like he was going to beat her and Chéri right in the middle of the street.

She couldn’t understand the French, but she put her arm and hand protectively around Chéri.

“Please,” she pleaded, voice thicker with both phlegm and Uncle Ben’s same accent. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He was just afraid for me.”