She came back to herself in pieces.The floor first—cold stone under her cheek, the specific temperature of it registering before anything else did. Then sound: voices, movement, the particular quality of controlled urgency. Then Cain's voice, close, saying her name.She opened her eyes.He was crouched beside her, his hands on her face, his eyes running the damage assessment she recognized because she did it herself when she was afraid. Around them, the building—the guards on the floor, Rafe slumped against the wall with his eyes closed and his jaw slack. She could feel the effort she had spent in the specific way she felt spent effort: the reserves low, the access point where she reached for the gift fainter than normal, but present.She was alive. More than barely."How long?" she said."Thirty seconds," Cain said. "Maybe forty. You came down fast.""The team—""Moving. I can hear them." He kept one hand on her face and with the other helped her to sitting. "Can you stand?"She too
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