One second, Cage was out of his chair.

Two seconds, he was standing over me, grabbing me by the front of my shirt.

Three seconds, my eyes closed as glass shattered all around me, the scent of flowers suddenly replaced by the air outside.

Four seconds, the concrete was hard and unforgiving under me, the wind biting where it touched my cheeks, my exposed stomach.

Five seconds, Cage was reaching down, his eyes fiery and clearly pissed.

That made two of us.

I pushed back my hood, fingers brushing against the cold metal on my left ear just as he hauled me to my feet, his other hand balling into a fist.

I caught the punch inches from my face, grinning at the slight widening in his eyes.

"Not a common occurrence, I take it?" I taunted. "Not getting away with everything, huh, Shakespeare?"

Very slowly, his eyes narrowed. Then he was nothing but a blur.