As two burly mercenaries stepped forward, Arwin's hands ignited. Small, flickering orange flames licked at his fingertips. "Don't touch me!" he warned. He threw a fire bolt, the ball of heat whistling past a mercenary's head and scorching the wall.
"Arwin, stop!" Paula shouted.
But Arwin was blinded by betrayal. He spun, ready to blast the door open, when a sudden, violent gust of compressed air slammed into his chest. The air bolt, launched with surgical precision by Paula, sent Arwin flying backward. His head cracked against a structural steel pole with a sickening thud. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the dirt.
Heath clapped, his eyes wide with genuine admiration. "Beautiful! The timing, the force... beautiful! I didn't know you had that kind of kick in you, Paula. Nothing should stand in your way_ not even that fool of a brother."
