Their blades clashed again, sparks bursting, metal ringing, the ground trembling beneath their feet. Jean twisted, Bruce countered, their weapons screaming with every collision, until suddenly…
Jean stopped.
Not because she wanted to. Not because she planned to. Her body simply froze, mid-swing, as though the thread controlling her movements had been abruptly severed. Her knees buckled slightly. Her breath hitched in her throat. The cold in her chest had nothing to do with her ice affinity, it was the shock of waking up.
Bruce lowered his dagger the moment she halted. His stance shifted back to neutral, relaxed, unthreatening, head tilting slightly as he studied her with the patient curiosity of a man observing a puzzle rather than an opponent.
