(Jessica’s POV)
The knife feels heavier than it should.
I'm not a violent person. Never have been. I threaten, manipulate, scheme—but I don't actually hurt people.
Except now I'm holding a knife to a five-year-old's throat.
And the look on Sabrina's face as she walks into the abandoned building makes something twist in my stomach.
Pure terror. Maternal desperation. The kind of fear that transcends everything else.
"Let him go." Her voice shakes but her eyes are fierce. "Please. He’s just a kid. I'll give you whatever you want. Just let my son go."
"Shut up." I try to sound menacing but my voice comes out shaky. Damn this kid. It’s all his fault. I lost the confidence to pull this off after hearing all that bullshit from him. "You're going to do exactly what I say or—"
Before I can
