“Sue me; I moaned,” I admit. “But touching isn’t something we ever had trouble with. It’s how we got into this mess in the first place, actually. It’s everything else we struggle with.”
I snort. “Of course you’d say that. The man who kidnapped a woman and her child with less than five words spoken is bad at communicating? Who would have guessed?!”
“I didn’t kidnap your child. I kidnapped mine.”
I sit up, my legs tightening around Mikhail’s hips, and jab him in the chest. “He’s mine. And nothing you can say is ever going to convince me to lie down and let you destroy his life. I’m not going to let you use him like some bartering chip. I’ll never stop running and I’ll never stop fighting and I’ll—”
“Get yourself killed,” he snarls, interrupting. “You want me to communicate? Fine. You ar
