68
Demetrius & Amara
They heard an eardrum-breaking blast and saw an orange-red fireball erupt from Turannos’ villa, burning and splintering everything in its path. Wood, chucks of plaster, shards of glass broke free of their physical confines scattering everywhere. A metal object, perhaps a doorknob, a closet bracket, or part of a stove struck the windshield of the chopper, engraving it with vein-like cracks. The force of the blast turned the helicopter 60 degrees, enough to send it spinning to the ground had the pilot been less skillful. Heat singed the paint off the chopper’s belly.
The helicopter bobbed like a waking buoy. Overcome by the heat and the acrid smelling smoke that burned her nostrils and throat, a heart-thundering Amara tried to focus on the spot where she had last seen
