The words hit like a punch to the gut, the air leaving Isabelle's lungs in a rush.
Leader.
What did he mean?
Her eyes flew to Alexander, searching his face for some clue, some sign of what the man meant. But Alexander's expression was unreadable, his eyes cold and distant. His grip on the man's shirt tightened, his knuckles white with tension.
"Shut up." He hissed.
The man laughed, a broken, bloody sound. "Or what? You'll kill me? Have you decided to kill your comrades instead?" He spat blood onto the floor, his eyes gleaming with malicious triumph. "It won't make a difference. The others know. They'll come for you."
Alexander's jaw clenched, his whole body rigid with barely suppressed rage. "Shut. Up." He repeated, his voice low and deadly.
