Azazel's steps faltered for the briefest second when Benjamin's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
The weight of that question wasn't small, and the seriousness in the man's tone pressed against his chest.
He turned slightly, catching the older man's face under the dim hallway light.
Benjamin's expression was firm, his brows drawn together, the kind of look that could make any man hesitate.
Azazel adjusted the tray in his hands before answering. His voice came out low, steady, but with a certain carefulness.
"Sir…" he began, his eyes briefly dropping in respect before meeting Benjamin's gaze again, "my intentions toward Ava… they are not to harm her.
She is someone I hold dearly—someone I…" he paused, searching for the right word, "…treasure."
Benjamin's lips pressed into a hard line.
His sharp eyes studied the young man as though trying to peel away his words and see the truth beneath them.
