A domineering figure walked through the doors, strolling through as though they had all the time in the world.
It was Damon.
He lifted a hand, and to my utter surprise, I saw ice crystals beginning to form in the air. Multiple ice spears materialized from nothing, and he struck it through the rest of the shooters as though he was an archer from the heavens striking down the unworthy peons.
What on earth was happening?
I could only watch as Damon single-handedly turned the tide of the battle. I met his icy blue eyes and felt relief flood through me. He was unhurt; my worst fears had not come true. Likewise, he was equally thankful I was still standing. Then his eyes caught sight of Elijah lying on the ground at my feet, broken and bleeding, and once again I felt the same wellspring of rage.
How strange that this time, I echoed that same feeling. Damon's rage was no longer a stranger. It was a welcome friend.
I wanted — needed — them to pay.