"Who are you calling a stubborn old hag?" Helena's voice was dangerously quiet.
Her hand rose.
The stone chair beside her desk hurtled through the air toward Gregory.
Gregory didn't move.
The chair struck him dead-center in the chest.
Stone shattered on impact, the sharp crack echoing through the office as fragments burst outward in every direction. Dust followed a heartbeat later, a thick cloud rolling across the room and swallowing everything in a dull grey haze.
For a moment, it was impossible to see anything clearly.
Then the dust began to settle.
Through the drifting particles, Gregory's silhouette emerged—exactly where it had been a moment before.
He looked down at the debris around his feet.
Then back up at Helena.
"Are you finished?" he asked calmly.
Helena's chest heaved. Her fingers danced in the air, "Don't test me, Gregory."
