Page 77 of At Your Mercy

The sound that came from my dad was one I’d never heard before—part sob, part shout, his voice breaking open. “He’s upstairs! He’s upstairs.”

Mom gasped like she’d been hit.

The man exhaled slowly. “See? That wasn’t so difficult. Now. Ask the boy to come down. Gently. Or I’ll have one of my men drag him down by his hair.”

Dad made a choking sound, then called out shakily, “Andreas! Andreas, buddy, come downstairs!” His voice cracked halfway through, desperate and falsely bright. “It’s okay, everything’s fine, just—just come down, liebling.”

My whole body went cold. Every instinct screameddon’t move, but the weight of his voice pulled at me.

“Andreas!” he called again, more broken this time. “It’s alright, I promise. Just come here. Please.”

I stood on trembling legs, the stairs creaking as I took one hesitant step, then another. The men turned at the sound. The ones in the back of the group didn’t look nice.

But when I reached the last step, they parted silently, leaving a clear path into the kitchen.

Mom was crying openly now. Henri was clinging to her side. Lia’s small face was hidden in her hands.

As I inched forward on trembling legs, the man at the front turned.

He’d been facing my family, his expression detached, but when his eyes landed on me, something shifted. The faintest curl of a smile tugged at his lips. His expression went from cold indifference to something far worse.

He approached slowly, the others stepping back without a word. He crouched down so we were eye level, and when his hand came to rest on my shoulder, the grip was firm enough to hurt.

“Well, there you are,” he said, voice smooth and steady. “Are you Andreas?”

I couldn’t make my voice work at first. “U-uh-huh…”

“Andreas,” he repeated, tasting the name. “And how old are you, sweetheart?”

“Nine.”

His hand began to rub my shoulder. “Do you love your family?”

I swallowed, nodding. “Yes.”

His eyes flicked toward my parents and siblings, then back to me. “That’s good.”

His hand tightened, thumb pressing into the soft muscle until it made my knees wobble.

“You’re a gorgeous boy,” he murmured. “So special. Do you know that?”

I shook my head, though my throat was too tight to breathe properly.

“Oh, but you are,” he said softly, like he was sharing a secret. “And people like you… they don’t belong in ordinary houses.” He turned his head slightly toward my parents, who were frozen in place, horror etched into every line of their faces. “They look so boring compared to you.”

Then his smile vanished.

“Take them to the living room,” he ordered, standing to his full height. “All of them.”

Dad’s voice cracked as he tried to reason with them, “Please, just—just let my wife and kids go. Whatever you want, you can have it, but don’t hurt them.”

The ringleader clicked his tongue, a soft tsk tsk that sent a shiver up my spine. “You should have thought about that before tipping off the police the other day.”

My mother froze, her breath catching audibly. “We didn’t—please, I swear, we didn’t—”

He ignored her, gesturing lazily to his men. “Get on with it.”

They moved quickly. One of the men grabbed Dad by the arm and shoved him toward the living room. Another yanked Mom up by her wrist when she tried to cling to Lia. Henri cried out as someone pushed him forward. I stumbled after them, too stunned to do anything else.