No. No, he can’t.
The threat sent me reeling. I stepped back again, consciously fleeing from him this time.
“You can’t. You wouldn’t be that ruthless.”
I became aware of the pleading tone in my voice. He smiled, realizing he had the upper hand again. The tips of his toes touched mine as he stepped even closer.
“Are you willing to bet on that?”
My hands flew out to grab his arms, trying to push him away from me, but he was immovable. With that damn smile on his face, he was so clearly his father’s son, the offspring of an unspeakable evil that had plagued my family for years before I was even born. My mother had left at some point, clearly to flee Conrad’s cruelty, but I was now paying the price. Not that I blamed her for taking off. But I realized that was how it would be—no matter what Meyer did to me or threatened to do to me, I could only push him so far. The threat of him turning me over to his psychotic father would always hang over my head. The one who’d sought out my mother halfway across the country and then came for me six years later. I was never getting out of here.
I did fall to my knees then, but only briefly, before I found myself almost prone on the floor. He looked totally unconcerned, even amused.
“Get up. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I muttered, not trusting my legs to hold me. I braced myself for him to hit me, kick me, or pull me to my feet by my hair, but nothing came. He crouched down in front of me, ducking his head to catch my eye. I trained my gaze on the carpet. He reached out and tutted my chin, lifting my face to his.
“Cheer up, Mads.” His flat voice caused me to shiver. “Things won’t be that bad. You’ll see.” There was no hint of kindness, no weakness I could exploit to my advantage, and no emotion at all that showed him to be an actual human being.
I was in the hands of a monster, and I had no way out.