Page 192 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

“That was a thirteenth-century⁠—”

“Shut up and focus.”

The thieves pushed Dimitris toward the safe panel. Rafe, Max, and I were kept back by two guards, one of whom put a knife to my throat before Rafe could take a step.

The temperature changed.

Every person in the room felt it.

Rafe’s eyes went gold at the edges.

“Don’t,” the guard said.

I felt the blade against my skin.

Rafe stopped.

The guard smiled. That was his mistake.

Max pressed his nose against my leg. I lowered my eyes without moving my head. He was looking to the left of the folding table. At empty air.

My pulse steadied. There he was.

Luke was close, shielded by some magic. Watching them force Dimitris through the long process of opening his vault, staying near the detonator because men like him enjoyed being physically close to power while pretending they were above it.

Dimitris placed his palm on the first panel. The system hummed.

“Voice,” said one of the thieves.

Dimitris uttered a phrase in a language I didn’t know. A second panel lit up.

The guard’s knife stayed at my throat.

Max looked at me.

I had one chance to get the command out before anyone understood what I was doing.

“Suchen,” I said, snapping my fingers.

Max moved like a missile launched from a silo. He leapt at the empty space beside the detonator.

For one impossible second, he hit nothing.

Then the glamour tore.

Luke Gildstein staggered into view in a dark coat, one arm raised, face twisted with shock as Max’s teeth locked around his forearm.

Chaos ensued.

The guard holding me flinched.

I stomped down hard on his foot, drove my elbow back into his ribs, and twisted out from under the knife. Pain sliced bright along my collarbone. Shallow, I thought. Probably shallow. It was a problem for later.

Rafe saw blood, and I forgot how to breathe.

“Rafe!” I shouted before he could become a dragon in a room full of explosives and murder everyone by accident. “Burn Dimitris!”

Dimitris’s head snapped toward me. “I beg your pardon?”