The man's dropping out from beneath her, still roaring his outrage but hopelessly off-balance. Time has slowed down and she acts on instincts, not thinking, not hesitating, merely eliminating the threat with easy and skill. A twist of her arms and the man's neck snaps, his body slumping to speed the fall with a dead wait.

She rolls before he lands, doing her best to avoid the impact of him meeting the floor for the last time, coming up in a crouch several feet away, panting lightly for air as she brushes her curls out of her face. Her eyes are intent and wary, scanning the room, making sure that was the last threat, but if there were any thugs left alive, they've long since fled.

Her eyes return to James instead, finding his gaze, and there's something hesitant in her now, uncertain, because she has no idea how he'll react to this. To her.