The attack came three days after our devastating victory on the financial markets. I should have been expecting it—Victor's four-hundred-million-pound loss had been splashed across every business publication in Europe, and desperate men do desperate things. But somehow, I'd let the success go to my head, allowed myself to believe that financial warfare would be the extent of Victor's retaliation.
I learned how wrong I was at 7:23 PM on a Tuesday evening, while walking from the Silverstone London offices to the parking garage where Marcus was waiting with the car.
The first warning came as a prickle at the base of my neck, like static electricity building before a storm. I'd felt something similar during my awakening episodes, but this was different—sharper, more urgent. The silver energy that had been growing stronger since my abilities manifested suddenly flared to life, flooding my senses with information I couldn't quite process.
Danger. Close. Moving fast.
