I flinch back at his words, but I can’t move. I can see the gun in his hand, too. He’s probably a hell of a lot more skilled with it than I am.
“He’s going to kill you all,” I snap.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Why did you stay with him?” he asks.
The way he speaks to me strikes me as odd. It’s as though we’re old friends and he’s resuming a conversation we left half completed.
“He’s my husband,” I reply, chin held high.
He raises his eyebrows. “Is it possible that you actually care for him? That he cares for you?”
The shock is evident in his tone, but I bite down on my tongue. He’s going to use me as leverage, as bait… and I’ve just offered myself up on a silver f*****g platter.
He takes my silence as an answer. Whistles softly in surprise.
“Well, that’s going to make this a lot
