The moment Don's voice echoed across the room, everything froze.
Not dramatically. Not with a gasp or a jolt.
Just... stilled.
T-Back's head turned in slow, suspicious increments, scanning the ceiling like it might peel open and spit a sniper.
Madam Lily, for once, had no witty retort. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced toward the walls, toward the ceiling, toward the places people shouldn't be hiding—but sometimes were.
Viktor blinked dumbly. His posture slouched slightly—part reflex, part pain. His face was still mottled from the burns he hadn't treated properly—blisters scabbing over one cheek, the skin around his jawline still an inflamed red. The remnants of Ash's flame attack weren't just lingering on his skin; they were carved into his pride.
Ash didn't bother with subtlety. She turned on her heel and bolted for the door.
She made it. Sort of.
