Mira screamed as she watched Jack fall to the floor in a heap and instinctively ripped a hank of her magick from her chest. Saying it hurt was an understatement. It felt like Jack's fire ball had hit her right between her breasts. She gasped, but ignored the pain. After imagining what she wanted it to do, she tossed the magick up in the air, molded it with her intentions, and exploded it.

And hoped for the best.

Immediately, a blast of air threw the man who had ahold of her backward. He took some of her hair with him. Mira cried out in pain, her hands instantly covering her aching head.

The room descended into chaos.

Wind swirled around her but did not touch her and, if she'd done it right, not Jack either. Anxiously, she hoped so. She couldn't see him because debris formed a tornado around her. It obscured everything in her view but did not enter the four-foot bubble encasing her. Wind shrieked and furniture smashed.

Mira clamped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. She fell to her knees, screaming at the top of her lungs, though she couldn't hear her own voice over the pandemonium she'd unleashed.

Everything fell silent.

"Mira," Jack breathed in a rasping voice.

Mira opened her eyes to find Jack standing in the center of the room, glancing around wide-eyed. His clothes were ripped and blood smeared his face.

Shaking violently and clutching the place in her chest where she'd torn her magick, Mira struggled to her feet and looked around her. The whole room had been swept clean. All the furniture, rugs, artwork, books—everything that had been in the room previously was now smashed and splintered along the edges of the walls. Only she and Jack stood unharmed in the center of the room.

Everything else was ... destroyed. Everyone was ...

Her breath came in short, fast gasps. No, no, no. "Tell me I didn't kill them," she said in a rush, glancing around at the debris.

Pain throbbed in her chest where she'd ripped out the hank of her magick. Metaphysically—if one could feel metaphysically—her chest felt bloodied and wounded. The pain reached all the way up through her throat to her head. She tottered to the side a little and caught herself before she fell.

"Mira." He paused, breathing heavy and wincing from his own wounds. "It was self-defense. They would've killed me in a heartbeat. Eventually, they would've killed you, too." He shook his head. "Don't doubt it.”

The door to the penthouse slammed open, and more men in black poured through. They all stopped short, expressions of amazement on their faces as they surveyed the scene before them.

Jack shot them a disgusted look. "You're late," he snarled. His sudden anger lashed her with fire, making her flinch.

The pain she'd felt when she'd ripped the magick from her chest fully registered.

Mira met the floor.

FOURTEEN

THIRTEEN