Blue flame danced between Melisa's fingers, eager to reduce Sirah to ash.
"Raven," Melisa said instead. "Take my parents somewhere else. Armia, Isabella, go with them."
"But—" Isabella started.
"Now."
They looked at each other. That level of authority in Melisa's voice was rare. So, they moved, with Armia gently guiding Margaret and Melistair toward the door, both parents shooting confused looks back.
"Melisa, what's happening?" Margaret asked. "Your friend—"
"I'll explain later."
The door clicked shut.
Just them now. Melisa and the woman who'd chained her. Who'd taken her. Who'd—
"So." Sirah lounged on the couch like she owned it. "Nice family. Your mom makes excellent cookies."
"You have thirty seconds to explain before I remove your other hand. And maybe everything else you've got, too."
"Straight to threats?" Sirah examined her fingernails. "And here I thought we had something special."
The flame grew hotter.
"Make that twenty seconds."
