Page 84 of Lethal Attraction

Relief hits me so hard that my knees nearly buckle.

She’s okay.

But that relief doesn’t last long.

Two men are advancing on her through the wreckage of the ballroom, forcing her backward toward a cluster of shattered tables and fallen decorations. One keeps a pistol trained in her direction while the other attempts to flank her, clearly hoping to divide her attention long enough to gain an advantage. My pulse immediately begins hammering against my ribs.

“Thalia!” I shout without thought, my words being swallowed by the distance that stretches between us.

She doesn’t react.

Whether she doesn’t hear me or simply can’t afford the distraction, I don’t know. Her focus remains entirely fixed on the two men as she slowly shifts her stance, her gaze flicking between them while she measures distances, angles, and opportunities that I’m certain I would never even notice.

It’s strange watching her like this.

Outside of the chaos, Thalia is quick-witted, sarcastic, and somehow always one step ahead of everyone around her. Here, however, there’s something else beneath all of that.

The first attacker makes his move.

He surges forward with enough confidence to suggest he’s done this before, but the moment he commits, Thalia pivots. The movement is so effortless it almost looks unfair. His momentum carries him straight past her, and before he can recover, he collides with an overturned banquet table. Crystal glasses explode across the marble floor as the entire thing tips sideways beneath his weight.

The second man reacts immediately as the crack of gunfire echoes through the ballroom.

My heart stops.

A marble pillar erupts beside Thalia as stone fragments spray through the air. She vanishes behind the column a split second before the shot reaches her, and for several agonizing seconds all I can see is drifting dust illuminated by the ballroom lights.

The gunman begins advancing with a sly confidence reserved for foxes. It’s almost like he believes the fight is already over.

I almost feel sorry for him because the look on Thalia’s face right before she disappeared wasn’t fear. It was annoyance.

The realization settles over me just as the man reaches the edge of the pillar and discovers that she’s no longer there. His hesitation is brief, but it’s enough.

His head snaps from side to side as he searches for her. Across the room, the other attacker has finally managed to regain his footing, only to find himself equally confused. Neither of them knows where she went.

I do.

She’s hunting them.

A blur of movement suddenly emerges from behind a collapsed buffet station. Before either man can react, Thalia crashes into the gunman with enough force to send both of them slamming into a decorative archway draped in flowers. The structure collapses beneath the impact, scattering petals and splintered wood across the floor.

The pistol flies free. It skids across the marble and disappears beneath a nearby table. Neither of them notices. At least Thalia doesn’t seem to, but she’s already moving again.

What follows is so fast that my eyes struggle to keep pace. The fight flows through the ruins of the ballroom—furniture overturns, glass shatters, and decorative centerpieces explode across the floor. Every attempt the men make to regain control seems to dissolve the moment Thalia reaches them.

She’s relentless.

One of the men manages to create a few feet of distance between them and immediately attempts to capitalize on it, but the opening vanishes almost as soon as it appears. Thalia closes the gap before he can recover, driving him backward through the debris until his spine collides with a marble column.

The impact reverberates through the ballroom, and the man crumples. The second attacker lasts only moments longer. By the time the dust settles, both men are on the floor, and Thalia is the only one left standing.

For a few seconds, I simply stare.

The warm light of the chandeliers glow across her unmarked skin. She breathes deeply, tipping her head back as her hands tighten at her sides. My eyes rake over the delicate column of her throat, so enraptured by someone this dangerous yet utterly beautiful.

Around us, the chaos continues unabated. Gunfire still echoes through distant corridors. People are still shouting. Somewhere nearby, something heavy crashes to the ground.

Yet none of it seems important. Not compared to her.