They didn't speak at first, but their silence said enough. Both of them were thinking about it—measuring their odds, weighing what little loyalty they had left against the reality pressing down on them.
Their hesitation seemed to piss Ingrid off as he spat, his voice rasping under my grip:
"You bastards! I saved you just now. Are you really going to betray our comrades?"
"Their dead," Gork said flatly, his tone stripped of emotion. "And they were never my comrades."
"Bastards," Ingrid hissed again, but before he could say more, I tightened my grip on his neck. The words died in his throat, replaced by a strangled groan.
"You two think it through," I said, my tone even, though the heat beneath my palm reminded them how quickly I could end this. "Just a reminder—the alternative is death. So, no pressure."
The sarcasm wasn't lost on them.
