Aisha stared at the young assassin in stunned disbelief.
Xander soundlessly fell through the air, landing on his feet near Jamil with uncanny ease.
Jamil's broken body lay lifelessly on the broken remains of the top floor of the Vogue, a growing pool of blood spreading beneath it from the gruesome injuries marring his body.
Of course, there was no coming back from this.
No talent in the world could revive the dead, at least none she'd heard of. And she was quite sure no Talented could recklessly expose such an ability to the World.
It'd sow unnecessary chaos and pandemonium.
Xander nonchalantly stood over the bleeding body, meticulously cleaning his blades, then sheathing them a moment later.
It was easy to forget that, despite his young age, Xander was a novice.
The young man's calm demeanor and attitude could easily allow him to blend in with the rest of the teenagers his age without much fuss.
But beneath that guise resided an inhuman level of deadliness.
