He stopped in his tracks, expression unmoving as he stared at the weapon at his feet. This, he realized, was his wake up call. It was a sudden punch in the gut from reality. He was not alone and he was going to die in this place, and whoever had thrown that knife at him either wanted to kill him now or wanted to give him a chance to even things up.

He whispered a soft prayer in French as he stooped to pick up the knife. His eyes then moved to the direction from which it came.

"I'm going to keep this. You won't get it back from me."