Micah swallowed hard; his throat felt suddenly too dry. He never thought things would reach this point, that Silas would corner him with these kinds of questions. He lowered his head, staring at the floor. His palms pressed against his knees, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of his skirt.
Minutes passed, but Micah couldn't open his damn mouth. This was not a situation he could get away with bullshit this time. Silas was sharp. Every word could come back and bite him right in the ass if he wasn't careful.
So he stayed quiet.
The silence stretched. Not peaceful. But oppressive. He could hear his own heartbeat thudding in his ears as if it was trying to punch its way out of his chest.
Silas didn't move. Not even a shift of his shoe or a twitch of his brow. He sat there across from Micah, hands clasped neatly in front of him, waiting for his response.
