“Give me the child,” he says firmly, and I hide the girl behind my back.
“No,” I answer barely audibly.
“You don’t want to give me my child?” he growls so loudly that my heart turns to blood—but I feel how small hands hug me, support me, and I answer desperately:
“The girl won’t go anywhere without me.”
The boss’s eyes darken, fill with rage when he spits out in reply:
“You signed up for this yourself. Get ready.”