The moment Myles and his group stepped back into their tent, the noise from outside softened into a distant blur of hurried footsteps, shouted orders, and clashing preparations. But the shift in atmosphere remained impossible to ignore as the tension followed them inside like a lingering weight pressing against their chests.
The situation had clearly worsened, not only because of the incoming battle, but also because of what had just happened between Myles and Michael.
They had all seen it.
Michael didn't trust Myles anymore. What started as suspicion had already crossed into a sharper feeling, something that hovered dangerously close to open hostility, and that alone made the air inside the tent feel heavier than before.
George let out a slow sigh as he ran a hand to ruffle his hair, his expression tightening with visible annoyance.
"I don't understand what's going on in that guy's head," he said. "Didn't he want us to help him deal with Red?"
