What happened next was Ziva snapping. "No one threatens my father like that!"
Her magic rose, a blinding pulse of heat and light that slammed into Micah's chest and hurled him to the floor. The impact stole his breath, pain lancing through his ribs as he groaned.
"That's enough!" Angus thundered.
"But, Father—" Ziva started, her voice loud and indignant.
"I said enough!" Angus's bellow rattled the very walls. "You will not touch my son again!"
For a moment, one could almost think Angus cared — or maybe he did, in his own twisted, blackened way — but Micah wasn't about to feel flattered.
Ziva's lips pressed into a pout, her magic still sizzling faintly at her fingertips before she forced it to fade. With a sharp exhale, she stepped back, subdued but glaring at Micah like she wished she could finish the job when no one was watching.
Micah forced himself to his feet, saying, "You shouldn't bother with Violet. You can't sink your twisted claws into her."
