Then his face darkened like a storm cloud, and he snarled—actually snarled—like some kind of wild animal. The sound raised every hair on her arms and sent primal warning signals shooting up her spine.
Time to go. Time to go RIGHT NOW.
Blazar spun on her heel and ran like her life depended on it, which it probably did.
Her sneakers squeaked against the polished floor as she bolted down the hallway, her heart hammering so hard she was surprised it didn't burst out of her chest cartoon-style.
Behind her, she could hear Dante's voice, but she didn't dare look back.
She knew he could catch her easily if he wanted to—everyone knew about his speed, his reflexes, his general supernatural unfairness. But chasing a scrawny boy down the school hallways would look like exactly what it was: a childish game of tag taken too far.
His pride wouldn't let him stoop to that level. At least, she hoped not.
