And then, in a deafening silence, the timer for Prep hits five seconds, and the weight of a hundred gazes bears down on Jessamae. Each gaze ravenous for the prize concealed within her pocket. Gripping her weapon tightly, panic tightens its grip on her heart. She stands alone, a solitary figure amidst a sea of hardened killers. The odds appear insurmountable. She knows she will never reach Alistair in time.
Without warning, the power flickers, drawing Jessamae's attention upward. With a blinding flash of white, the power unexpectedly goes out, casting the room into darkness. She strains her eyes, attempting to see through the shadows. In the corner of the room and over the bar counter, a shadow drops from the ceiling, landing gracefully. The crowd falls silent, astonished by the figure's s
