“You see me,” he repeated, stalking closer. But his words were no longer a question. His statement was a confirmation of what we both knew. Death stood three paces from me, and I couldn’t move. My mouth dried as I stared at the man who I knew turned into a terrible beast. My gaze dropped, taking him in. He wore black boots, black breeches, and a sleeveless aketon that hit mid-thigh. His clothing fit like a second skin, revealing a lean build that was nevertheless all muscle. His fists were clenched, and his muscles flexed as if ready to strike. I was going to die. I knew it as certainly as I
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