Both men looked wrong. Tight. Pale. Alert.“Open it,” she said. Daniel forced a laugh. “Emma, come on—this is ridiculous.” “Open it,” she repeated. Silence spread. Then the elderly man stood. “I’ll take that,” he said calmly, already reaching into his coat pocket.
“And I’ll be on my way.” Every instinct Emma had screamed. “No,” she said, fingers tightening on the ribbon. The man’s composure cracked. “Don’t,” he snapped. The knife appeared in his hand—fast, deliberate, held low but unmistakable.