Leon raised a hand and, without hesitation, pointed straight at Calista, who still had her face buried in her friend's arms.
"Even a crybaby like her found the guts to stand up," he said loudly, never lowering his finger. Then his gaze lifted, sliding over the faces packed into the crowd. "And you?"
He turned slowly toward the men who, just a few days ago, had held sobbing women and whispered into their ears that everything would be fine, that they'd protect them, that they didn't need to be afraid.
"You really call yourselves men?" he tossed out coldly. "You can't even take one step forward."
His eyes moved over the students, the teachers, the handful of older people, unhurried, deliberate, like he wanted every single person to feel the weight of that moment. There wasn't a trace of sympathy in him. Only naked contempt.
