“Hand it over,” the man said, stepping out into the night, “and I won’t kill you. I don’t need to kill you. You’re just making me do it.” Magda smiled grimly, an expression of anger rather than amusement, and this time when she spoke her voice trembled with the weight of the fear and fury she felt, like rails vibrating beneath a speeding train. “Why do men like you always blame other people for your own choices?”
