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He opens his mouth mutely, staring at us.
Really, what the fuckcanhe say?
We’ve backed him into a corner.
He bows his head, sighing heavily.
“Shit,” he mutters. “I guess you’ve got me there. But we don’t need a DNA test. I’ll pay the damn child support, okay?”
“If you ever try and pull some shit on my sister again,” I growl through clenched teeth. “Or if you try anything with Grace … look at me, Markus.”
He glances up and licks his lips nervously as I loom over him.
“There’s going to be fucking hell to pay. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes,” he stutters.
