The sounds that only she could hear got louder. She stood in the center of the room, listening as the intruders broke the locks on both the doors at almost the same time. She and Jack were trapped in the middle. The wards on the penthouse broke with a snap of vibrating energy that made her flinch.

Jack winced in response, able to feel the wards break, too. It was a subtle, yet alien, sensation. If they'd been asleep they might have slept through it.

She looked wide-eyed at Jack, who stood watching her with his shirt in one hand. "They're in," she whispered unnecessarily. Her chest felt nearly empty of anything but her heart beating and the warm pulse of her power. Mira's breathing came fast and shallow. At least her magick had given her a little warning, and they weren't being caught with their pants down ... literally.

He shrugged his shirt over his head, grabbed her by the upper arm, and pulled her behind his body as he inched toward the bedroom doorway. Mira glanced around desperately for something to use as a weapon and then remembered her magick. It glowed there in the center of her chest in a reassuring way. Hopefully, she could access and direct it.

The sounds she heard now were less in her mind and more in her immediate physical reality. Feet shuffled on the floor. It sounded like someone not quite managing to be quiet.

Jack pushed her into the corner of the bedroom and put his finger to his lips—as if she needed to be told to be quiet—and waited by the side of the bedroom door. Mira heard someone inch nearer. Before she could draw another breath, Jack sprang through the doorway.

A ball of fire appeared, manifested by Jack, she assumed, lighting the living room so brightly that Mira had to shield her eyes. Jack sent the ball hissing through the air. One of the intruders screamed in pain and a gush of liquid hit the hardwood floor.

Fire, meet water. Of course they'd sent water witches to trump Jack's fire.

Voices rose in anger. Furniture overturned. She inched closer to the doorway, unable to remain idle while Jack risked his life on her behalf.

"We just want the woman, Jack," one of the men said gruffly. "You're outnumbered and out-magicked. Just hand her over and we won't have to kill you to get to her.”

"Fuck you," Jack growled. A fist connected with someone's face.

Leave it to Jack to be direct.

An old-fashioned, magick-free knockdown, drag-out fight ensued. Men grunted, cursed, and snarled at each other, feet scuffled, lamps broke, fists met flesh.

How many men was Jack attempting to fight off? The thought left a cold ball in the pit of her stomach.