“So, what?” Anders asks. “You’re going to sit there and cry about it, sabotage this interview—sabotage the rest of your life—because fate just handed you a plate of crap?”
I clench my jaw. Anders needs to quit pushing. He got what he wanted. He got his answers. “Anders, enough!” I shout. He holds his hand up to silence me.
Jessica raises her chin. Her eyes dilate and turn red. “Not being able to shift changes everything for me! It affects my entirelife! I can’t be a guard. It ruins my chances with a potential mate. And you! You won’t let me leave the damn territory, so how the hell am I going to have a life?”
“Then stop sitting here like a little brat and do something about it.”
Wind blows around her, lifting her hair every which way. She stands and lifts her hands. The table we are sitting at separates, flips over, and crashes on either side of the room.
Chris grabs my arm. “Stand back.” I want to run to her, to stop her, but Chris pulls me to the back of the dining room.
Elias joins us. “I hope he knows what he’s fucking doing,” he mutters, watching the storm unfold.
“Stop calling me a brat!”
“Why? That’s exactly what you are, a little brat about to throw a tantrum because she can’t have her way! A brat who uses others to clean up her messes.”
The wind blows stronger, pushing the tables into the walls, dinnerware crashing to the floor. “I never asked anyone to fight my battles for me!”
“Then stop acting like a victim and fight, dammit! You said I’m the one standing in your way? So, fight me. Show me that you’re capable of living a life outside of this territory.”
Wind swirls around her, like a small tornado, lifting her slightly off the ground. Plates, napkins, vases, forks, and spoons dart around the room. The force of the wind is so strong, it’s hard to move.
“Fuck! He’s taking this too far!” Elias shouts.
Jessica screams, and her hand reaches up. The lights over our heads burst and flicker out. She throws a lightning bolt at Anders, who lunges just out of reach, flinging a shard of ice toward her.
“No!” I yell, but the wind swallows my cry.
She slices through the shard with a streak of lightning. Anders dives for her, but she floats out of his reach. When her feet touch the ground, she pummels an elbow into his chest. Ice and lightning bolts collide, pelting us with debris.
The three of us huddle in the corner. “This is fucking bullshit! Shadow, get her out of here. We’ll take care of Anders,” Chris shouts over to the wind.
I watch them, kicking, punching, blocking, throwing magic at each other. Under different circumstances, I would be proud as shit of my little Princess. But this fight with Anders isn’t training. Anders pushed her, egging her on, to fight for herself, to prove that she’s not worthless, no matter what life hands her. I’m not sure she's ready for that kind of push. She’s hurt and angry. She’s fighting against something she has no control over.
I find an opportunity to transport in when she pushes Anders back with a gust of wind. I step in just as she throws a bolt of lightning, straight at me.
Anders crashes into me before it strikes, and we both crash to the floor together. All I hear is her scream. The wind dies. Everything slams to the floor. She crumples to her knees, sobbing into her hands.
Anders crawls to her, pulling her into an embrace. “He’s fine. I’m fine.”
Her sobs grow louder. Chris and Elias rush over to us; Elias helps me stand.
“I’m okay,” I confirm.
Chris stands over Anders, reassuring him he’s uninjured. I kneel beside Jessica, resting my hand on her head. Chris rubs her back. We all surround her in silence, listening to her heart-wrenching sobs.
My heart breaks for her and a little for me, for a future family we never discussed wanting. The deep, dark part of me pushes from within my core. It wants out. It wants to find those assholesand rip them apart limb from limb. Even though they are no longer in her life, everything they did continues to haunt her like ghosts. I will not let them get away with this.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she cries into Anders chest, pulling me from the dark thoughts of revenge.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Anders kisses the top of her head. “It’s okay to be angry,” he reassures her.
“I told you. I don’t have control over my magic.”
Chris shoots Anders a withering look and stands. He takes in the destroyed dining room—round tables obliterated into pieces, broken dinnerware scattered on the floor—and he shakes his head. “I’ll call Tater and see if she can send a crew over to clean this up.”
Anders nods. “Tell her I owe her.”
