The Lie and the Promise
Leon stiffened.
Her entreaty stabbed right through him, but his throat constricted tightly. His mouth opened, but no response issued forth—no no, no yes. Only silence.
And that alone was louder than words.
Mia's breath caught. Her mouth opened wide, trembling, as her eyes held to his face, begging, searching, afraid of what she already sensed clawing its way up from the depths of her chest. Her lips trembled, her fists clenched at her sides, but she couldn't move.
Neither said a word for a beat. The air between them grew heavy, thick with foreboding.
Then—her mother's white face, thin and barely recognizable, appeared in Leon's mind. He recalled the burden Mia bore, her hopeful expression now mimicking that deathbed despair. His chest constricted so hard he feared his ribs would splinter beneath the strain.
And then… something snapped within him.
Leon took a hard breath, balled his fists, and pushed his voice through.
"Yes. I have a way."
