MIRA

For a split second, time stops. Damian's hand closes around the gun, his eyes wild and bright with something unhinged. He moves it from my head and shoots a chandelier to create an escape route.

The ballroom lights fracture against the polished metal, throwing sharp reflections across the walls. Every sound, clinking glasses, soft music, the murmur of conversation, collapses into one ringing silence, then everything explodes.

“Mira...!” Jackson's voice tears through the air.

I feel ...