Roland Lionhart stopped his slow, deliberate advance right in front of Alexandra. He was an imposing figure, easily three heads taller than Klaus. The man's dark, obsidian eyes fixed on her, cold and assessing, but the lips beneath his iron-gray hair curled into a smile that was entirely artificial.
"It has been a while, my dear niece," he said, his voice a low, smooth rumble that somehow cut through the surrounding chaos. "I did not expect you to grow into such a beautiful woman. You truly resemble your late mother a lot."
Alexandra's heart ached at the mention of her mother, but she offered a simple, practiced smile in return. She could not afford to show weakness. "It has indeed been a while, Uncle Roland."
Roland then turned his gaze toward Klaus. The shift was like a physical weight being lifted from Alexandra and deposited squarely onto Klaus.
"And you must be Klaus, Ludovic's son. Am I right, young man?"
