Dove instinctively squeezed her eyes shut the instant Liam flicked his finger. A surge of heat roared past her face—blisteringly fast, terrifyingly close. It didn't hit her, but it brushed so near that every nerve in her skin jolted awake, goosebumps rising in its wake.
Several seconds passed in tense silence.
Cautiously, she cracked one eye open. Then the other. She was… still here. Still whole. Blinking, she slowly raised both hands to her face, patting her cheeks. Warm, yes—but untouched. No burns. No blisters. Just skin.
Her brows drew together as she turned and looked over her shoulder.
Her jaw parted.
Behind her, the wall now sported a perfect, smoking hole—circular and clean. And beyond it, through the next wall, was another smaller hole, flawlessly aligned. The blast had sliced through both with surgical precision, as if they were paper.
"…What the hell," Dove murmured, staring at the destruction left in its path.
