Glass showered down onto the pavement, glittering like jagged diamonds in the parking lot lights, and scream echoed from inside, high, shrill, and definitely not Callie’s.
I was out of the car in a second, my eyes locked on the broken window.
Smoke…no, ozone…was pouring out of the room like steam. The lights on the entire third floor flickered violently, struggling to stay lit, before dying completely.
“Holy hell,” I breathed, a dark grin splitting my face despite the situation.
Nate had said she was a battery. He was wrong. She wasn’t a battery. She was a f***king bomb, and someone had just cut the wrong wire.
A moment later, the front doors of the hotel burst open.
Callie ran out. She wasn’t crying. She was hyperventilating. Blue sparks, visible blue sparks, were arcing off her fin
