Popescu steadily approached me, holding the armlet out before him like a shield. I stepped backwards until my back connected with the wall. No, he was wielding it like a sword. Everything about his expression and his body language spoke of restrained violence. He fully intended to hurt me.

I couldn’t look away from his grim, pale face. My heart was thundering and there was a tension in my muscles pushing me to move, but I couldn’t. There was nowhere to run to. I was ...