Sasha felt her lip quiver. Every time she heard Nico say her name, she was reminded of her feelings for him, of all the innocent butterflies in her tummy and the way her hand fit perfectly in his. Of sunsets and moonlight dates. Of his warmth in the cold and his dashing smile. What the hell was she doing? She was a fighter, sure, but she wasn't a killer. She knew she wasn't cut out for Hellfire, so why was she acting like one of them? Her eyes dared a peek at the guard on the floor. She almost lost it. Was he dead? Was he going to die? Did he have a family? What had she done?
Her rage had driven her to the edge, and she had almost fallen right off. But the invisible strings of magnetism were more than just the ties that bound her to a dozen or so bullets. They bound her to Nico too, in a different way, but the concept was the same. "Go," she said to him quietly. "Start moving." She stood in front of him, her magnetism still manipulating the bullets like they were puppets. If she could just keep the bullets between them and the guards, maybe, just maybe, they could escape.
"Nicolas," she said to him in a way that made her sound more like her old latina self, and glanced back at him. "You okay?"