LEILA
.
.
The shock of his bravery, of this unexpected intervention, still buzzed under my skin.
These weren’t heroes, not in any storybook sense.
Gerald didn't lower his gun.
His eyes, hard and narrowed, flicked between the man's face and the space behind him, back towards where Damien and the others stood.
He didn't trust it.
I could see it in the set of his jaw, the tense stillness of his body.
"Don't come any closer," he growled, his voice a low rumble that somehow carried over the chopper.
"I don't trust you or anything he sends."
"He said he said he'll call," he shouted back, emphasizing the word 'call', making sure Gerald understood the proposed shift in communication.
"He wants to talk. Just you and him. A line is open."
A flicker of surprise and calculation cr
