I leaned towards her, resting my elbows on my knees, with an almost tender gesture. My voice was soft, almost a whisper. I didn't need to shout. Power is not demonstrated with volume, but with control.
"Of course, I don't have to do it, Ingrid. But you do. And you know it."
I see her press her lips together, as if the truth were a bitter substance she couldn't swallow. She begins to tremble, knowing she has already made a choice and must comply. I don't have a shred of mercy for her. She is not the innocent victim she pretends to be. Not after what she had done. Not after what they did to my mother.
"I still don't understand how he pretended not to know who you are. Unless he really is so stupid," I say calmly. "That he doesn't suspect you're an envoy of his enemy. He must love you a lo
