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somewhat of a rarity if she remembered correctly. He wouldn’t trust her father enough to arrange a trade. It was reassuring that he’d been telling her the truth about her father having Molly, though. Hearing those words gave her the courage to continue.
    She crept up behind the men quietly, carefully stepping around the clay pots. When she was close enough to hear the grunts of the struggle, she picked up one of the discarded pots and dumped out its contents. She was armed now—in a fashion.
    “Tell me where Nikki’s hiding and I’ll let you live. Maybe.”
    Her captor thrashed in the hold but didn’t say anything.
    “Sucks not being able to use magic, doesn’t it?” the man taunted.
    She didn’t wait to hear if her captor found a way to answer that question. The pot came down over the assailant’s head in a deafening crash. He swayed and staggered but, much to her horror, didn’t fall. He did, however, release his hold on her captor.
    “There she is,” he sneered. “Your timing is perfect, my dear.”
    What the hell? Did he have a steel plate in his head?
    Her captor was busy gasping for air and coughing. He wasn’t going to be any help. This was all up to her. She widened her stance and readied herself for his first blow.
    “Pyro.” Her captor’s croaked warning gave her just enough time to drop into a crouch as an arc of fire raced through the air.
    Huh… He’d been of use after all.
    A quick change in strategy had her stepping closer to the assailant. He was just as flammable and wouldn’t risk a fire if he were in the burn radius.
    “What’s the matter, afraid of being singed?” the pyro asked in a mocking voice.
    She noticed the lack of fire as he moved to strike her, though. Her gamble had paid off. “No more than you, I’m sure.”
    “You could surrender. I might even let Isaac live if you’d be gracious enough to put on these Sim cuffs.”
    She eyed the handcuffs that would block her abilities with a grimace. There were few things that could get her to put those on her wrists. And since he wasn’t in possession of any of them, she decided to decline his offer.
    Balancing her weight squarely on her left leg, she struck out with her right. When her foot landed on his sternum, there was a sharp crack as he was thrown back. The Sim cuffs hit the floor with a solid thunk and both she and the attacker went after them. He was bigger and stronger, but her fear gave her an added advantage. She wanted them more than he did, and that made her quicker. She had to give some of the credit to Isaac, though. He’d pounced on the attacker at some point and currently had him pinned to the floor.
    “Give me the cuffs.”
    Her top lip rose into a snarl of anger at the command, but she still handed them to him. She couldn’t fight the order even if she’d wanted to.
    “Sorry.”
    She shrugged off the apology. “You’re welcome.”
    Isaac clicked the cuffs around the man’s wrists before standing. “I thought you were going to be good?”
    “And saving your sorry ass would be what, exactly?”
    A glint of white told her he was smiling. “Guess that could be one definition. Can you watch him for a moment while I go check the circuit box?”
    He must have taken her heavy sigh as consent because he left the room with only a deep chuckle for her to track him by.
    “You realize he’s gonna trade you for someone else, don’t ya?” the man taunted.
    Arguing with him wasn’t going to get her anywhere so she kept her silence.
    “I could help you, though. Let me go and I’ll tell your father you weren’t here. That it was all just a trap.”
    She laughed harshly. “Do I have the word ‘stupid’ tattooed across my forehead?”
    Then again, today probably wasn’t the best of days to judge her intelligence by. She had gotten herself blood bound and then had rescued her captor…Isaac. She remembered the thug calling him that.
    “Can’t blame me for trying,” the assailant said.
    It was almost