He leaned closer, his face inches from hers. His breath was warm against her mask.
"Such a soft butterfly," he murmured. "I've been waiting for this."
He reached up and pulled her mask down a little, exposing her nose, his fingers brushing her cheek.
Bella moved.
She drove her knee into his shin, hard. He grunted, his grip loosening just enough. She yanked her wrists free, grabbed his collar, and slammed him against the wall.
"Guards!" she shouted, her voice echoing down the hallway. "Now!"
Footsteps pounded toward them.
She reached for his mask, her fingers curling around the edge, ready to rip it off.
White smoke exploded around them. Thick, choking, and burning.
Bella coughed, her eyes watering, her lungs searing. She couldn't see. Couldn't breathe. Her hand slipped from his collar.
The guards were coughing too, stumbling, disoriented.
