The air in the cramped living quarters was thick with tension, a heavy weight that seemed to press against the walls as Justin's sharp words cut through the silence.
His voice, usually laced with a teasing warmth, carried a cold, unyielding edge that made Ruben flinch.
"Not in front of the boy," Justin said, his gaze flicking toward Alex, who sat hunched on a low stool at the room's edge, his fingers nervously twisting the hem of his worn tunic.
The boy's presence amplified the strain, his wide eyes darting between the two men like a cornered animal, unsure of where to look or what to do.
Justin stood with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his posture rigid, as if bracing for a fight.
His expression was a storm of exasperation and authority, his jaw set in a way that dared defiance. "The council certified Alex," he continued, his tone low but forceful, each word deliberate. "They deemed him safe to stay with us. Are you saying you oppose their verdict?"
