Micah turned his head with visible effort, as if something was holding him in place, preventing him from facing the individuals who had just arrived. In truth, that restraint was not imagined at all. Clyde's arm, which had been wrapped securely around Micah's waist and back, tightened just enough to stop him, his fingers pressing more firmly against the fabric of Micah's clothing, as if reluctant, perhaps even unwilling, to allow him to fully turn and confront what stood behind him.
Nevertheless, Micah did not remain still.
He forced himself to rotate, his posture straightening inch by inch despite the tension in his body. His expression, which had only moments ago been clouded with exhaustion and lingering unease, sharpened the instant he heard Leo's voice.
"Hey," Micah began, his voice low, edged with irritation, "what the hell are you doing here…"
