Olivia's POV
I shot to my feet so fast the blanket fell to the floor in a heap.
"Who are you?" The words came out shaky, my voice high with fear. "What do you want?"
The man stepped further into the firelight, and I got my first clear look at him.
He was older - how much older, I couldn't tell. His face was covered in thick, coarse facial hair, a mixture of gray and black that obscured most of his features. What I could see of his skin was weathered, lined with age and something harder. Cruelty, maybe.
His eyes caught the firelight, reflecting it back like an animal's.
And that knife - God, that knife looked like it could gut a person.
"Who am I?" He chuckled, the sound terrifyingly menacing. "I'm just someone who wants to see Maxwell suffer and pay for what he did to me. And after watching him very closely this past week, I've realized something important."
He took another step toward me, and I took an automatic step back, my hip hitting the arm of the couch.
