That theory was quickly disproven when the giant returned from the vault room with the two full trays of burgers.

He stepped into the middle of the couches, exuding his authority as he towered over them.

“We’re going to be here for a while, so everyone takes a burger, and everyone eats a burger,” he announced. “I don’t care if you’re not hungry. When I was a boy, at the orphanage, they would tell us to eat to keep from getting hungry. That’s what you’re all going to do. Are we clear?”

Most of the hostages merely nodded in fear, but some, including Gabi, maintained a defiant stare. The giant walked around the group in a circle, handing out a burger to each hostage.

“Eat,” he bellowed to anyone who seemed reluctant.

Gabi was emotionally and physically exhausted and frightened beyond the point of reasonable, objective thought. But despite all of that, she sensed something was wrong here, and that dread and apprehension only grew as the giant came closer to her and she watched her fellow victims devouring the burgers.

She fought for a solution, but before she could even understand her own apprehension, he was towering over her, a burger held out in his massive hand. He said, “Eat, little princess. I’m sure that you’re worried about ruining your figure, but trust me, one burger won’t hurt. You can do some extra Pilates or whatever it is you Americans do.”

“I can’t eat that.”

“Oh, you will, or I’ll shove it down your throat. Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s organic or free-range and all that nonsense.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m Hindu.”

“And I’m impatient and prone to violent outbursts. Eat the burger.”

“I can’t. In my religion, cows are sacred animals, the symbol of ahimsa and the mother goddess. Feeding a cow is seen as an act of worship. We take this very seriously. In many Indian states, consuming or even harming a cow is against the law. I will not eat it!”

He stared at her a moment, the first time she’d seen him speechless and not in complete control. Then he started laughing. It wasn’t meant to be menacing, of that she was sure. He seemed to have genuinely found something she said hilarious. His laugh reminded her of a department store Santa Claus, minus the “ho ho ho.”

He kneeled down to her level, coming eye to eye. He still chuckled, but even with a smile on his face, he radiated an aura of menace. Like a large predator with no natural enemies, he was at the top of the hierarchy, and he knew it. To meet his gaze, to be in his presence, was to be at his mercy.

“You’re strong, little one,” he whispered. “A fighter. Maybe even a killer, under the right circumstance. But you don’t have the claws to fight me on this.”

Gabi had dealt with bullies for as long as she could remember. She had inherited three in the form of her brothers. She knew you could never let the enemy smell your fear.