The silence stretches, straddling the line between discomfort and intimidation---my father's sweet spot. Finally, he folds his hands in front of him. "You don't even know what I was going to ask."
"It doesn't matter. I won't do it. I owe you nothing."
"Except your life."
There are a lot of ways one could take that, but with Dad, the answer is always obvious: it's a threat. I was unconscious a few hours ago. He could've killed me if he wanted. Just like he could've killed me any of the dozens of times growing up that he grabbed me by the throat and threw me to the floor.
He could kill me right now, too.
But it still wouldn't change a thing.
"If you want to hurt Samuil, you'll have to do it without me."
He chuckles and scrubs a meaty hand over his chin. "You've grown a spine since I l
