LEILA
.
.
I looked back at Damien, then back at her, waiting for any kind of response. We were far enough away from them that they could barely hear our hushed words.
But not so far for him to inflict pain if he wanted to.
“He… he ummm… they had this gun thing… I saw it…” Tracy stammered, her eyes wide with lingering fear. “…and umm… Matteo is being questioned… for letting things slip that way…”
I had never wanted things to escalate like this. The gate had been locked, our next plan had been to try and slip back into our rooms unnoticed and now, here we were, caught like rats in a trap.
“When you’re asked to speak, don’t be scared,” I told Tracy, trying to project a strength I didn’t feel.
“Answer with your head held high. Don’t… don’t let them see your fear.” She nodded her head
