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Pia spotted her and spun.

Paxton ducked, screaming out a warning just as Pia’s finger snapped down on the trigger?—

A searing pain exploded through Shay’s stomach.

She crumpled forward, taking Pia down with her as she crashed to the pavement. As they fell, Shay slapped her lightning-charged palm onto Pia’s neck?—

And roasted her alive.

Shay’s old friend screamed and convulsed beneath her. The smell of burning flesh singed her nostrils and turned her stomach. But she did not remove her hand—not until Pia was dead.

That was when the cops and ambulances arrived. But Shay could barely see or hear as she keeled over on the ground, her blood soaking through her shirt.

Paxton was screaming. Screaming and hugging her. Calling for help.

The last thing Shay saw before her world began to fade was Paxton’s crying face.

She would remember that face forever.

Roman watchedin disbelief as the destroyed road and the bodies of all those people—of Pax, Shay, Dean—eddied and melted away like smoke, leaving true reality behind.

He turned in a circle, taking in his surroundings in pieces.

The road was still destroyed, yes. But there was life here. Among the wreckage of vehicles, there were ambulances and cop cars and fire trucks and helicopters. Paramedics and Healers rushed about, loading people onto stretchers to be taken away in ambulances or airlifted to hospitals.

Pax. Shay.

Where were they?

A familiar face caught Roman’s eye.

It was Paxton, rushing alongside two paramedics wheeling a stretcher toward a helicopter.

Roman lurched into a jog. That jog broke into a run.

“Pax!” he called.“Pax!”

When Paxton spotted him, he sprinted over, sobbing uncontrollably as he crashed into Roman and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“Paxton, what’s going?—”

“It’s Shay!” Paxton cried. His sobs ripped apart Roman’s heart. “It’s Shay—she’s hurt! There was a lady, and she hurt her!”

Roman’s soul left his body. He grabbed Paxton by the hand and ran to the stretcher, skidding to a stop beside it.

When he beheld who lay upon it, her eyes shut, her face sickly pale, his knees wobbled and he nearly fainted.

“Shay?” he choked out. “What the hell happened?” he asked the paramedics.“What happened?”

“She’s been shot. We’re airlifting her to a hospital.”

He froze—briefly. And then he hurried forward, following them. “Wait. Wait, wait—please. At least tell me where you’re taking her—please, I have to know where you’re taking her!” He grabbed onto the side of the stretcher, refusing to let go.

“Angelthene General Hospital,” the man said. “We’re going to need you to stay back.”

He did—just for a second.

And then Roman barged through, ignoring their shouts of protest as he took Shay by the hand. Her skin was icy cold, her fingers limp. “Shayla,” he breathed. “Shay, can you hear me?”