Heath flinched.
Something about Leon's voice—light, casual, almost friendly—made his skin crawl. Like they were chatting over lunch, not bound and gagged in the middle of a forest after barely surviving an attack.
He tried to speak, but the wad of leaves stuffed into his mouth turned his words into muffled grunts. Frustrated, he twisted violently, his bindings straining but not budging.
Leon chuckled. "I guess you want to talk, huh?"
With an absent hum, he stepped forward. His fingers moved with unsettling care as he reached for Heath's gag and peeled away the leaves.
The moment they were out, Heath coughed harshly, retching reflexively as his throat burned from the pressure. His chest rose and fell in deep, panicked breaths.
Then, with narrowed eyes, he turned his gaze toward Leon, hate burning bright behind them.
"What the hell is this, Leon?" he spat. "Why the hell have you tied us up like animals?"