Moying said nothing, looking at the coffee table.
"Moying." Limo tipped his chin up with two fingers, turning his face toward the light. "You're an Alpha. You're not a small man. There were three of them." He reached for the antiseptic. "Why didn't you fight back?"
"My brother would kill me," Moying said.
Limo looked at him.
"They're actors," Moying said. "All of them. They need their faces. If I fight back the way I actually fight back, they won't have faces left. And I'm a trainee, I don't want to cause trouble before I've even debuted."
Limo pressed the antiseptic to the cut. Moying hissed but didn't move.
"So instead," Limo said, "you've got the chairman of the company cleaning you up in his penthouse."
"When you put it like that..."
