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Four hours later, Darien stood in the destroyed warehouse in the Black Alder District, Gaven and his men surrounding him. Gaven had summoned him as soon as he’d received word of his warehouse having been blown up, the stock inside it obliterated. The guards that had been on watch duty at one o’clock were lying dead in a row on the floor, a bullet in each of their skulls, courtesy of Gaven. Puddles of scarlet bled across the cement, seeping toward Darien’s boots.
“Let this serve as a reminder,” Gaven said, his words for Darien and the few men Gaven hadn’t seen a need to kill, as he peeled his bloody gloves off his smooth hands, “of what will happen if you fuck up.” He shoved his gloves into his pants pocket and barked to his men, “I want to know who did this! Check every camera in the goddamn area. I don’t care what you have to do, you find them and you bring them to me!”
Half of them departed at once, the other half staying, standing completely still as they awaited instructions from Gaven. Darien was careful to keep his face empty of expression, careful not to look anywhere—least of all at the spot where he’d hit the floor after being blasted to the ceiling, the spot on the cement where he’d had to scrub his blood clean.
“And you,” Gaven seethed, rounding on a heel to face Darien. Darien lifted his chin as Gaven looked him over with a hateful gaze that could burn. A minute passed. One really fucking long minute before he said to his remaining men, “Grab him.”
Darien wasted no time reacting. His magic swept out in a dusky wave that was both visible and tangible, the sight of it striking Gaven and the others dumb. Eyes solid black, he held Gaven’s men still, lifting them up off the ground so their feet dangled uselessly in the air, their hands going to their throats, their airways pinched shut by Darien’s hold, every wisp of oxygen cut off.
When Darien spoke, he kept his voice low and firm. “If anyone so much as breathes on me, Gaven, I swear to the gods I will end you all so fast. You seem to be forgetting that you chose to work with Darien fucking Cassel. Regretting that decision yet?”
Three minutes passed. Three minutes, all of which Darien counted in his head, as no one moved, and Gaven’s men continued to struggle for air like fish washed up on land. Faces turned purple, and necks bled as fingernails clawed into flesh, desperate for air.
When Gaven spoke, there was a note of fear in his words. “Let them down.” His throat bobbed with a swallow.
But Darien did no such thing. “Apologize,” he said coolly.
A muscle feathered in Gaven’s jaw. “No.”
“Apologize,” Darien said again, squeezing the many hands of his magic tighter. “I don’t take kindly to implications made on my level of integrity, Gaven. I am not responsible for what happened here, and I never want to hear again about how you think I might’ve been.” One last time, he said, a smile playing on his mouth, “Apologize.”
Gaven’s throat shifted again, but Darien knew it was more from rage than any other emotion. Those weasel-like eyes flicked to his pathetic men, dangling like puppets in the air. “I apologize,” he said stiffly.
Darien’s smile grew. “Thank you.” He let go of Gaven’s men, and they all dropped to the floor, gasping for oxygen.
Gaven had enough balls left to step forward, so close that he was only inches from Darien. “Another screw-up from anyone, I don’t care who it is, and you can consider yourself a dead man, Darien fucking Cassel.” He sneered around Darien’s name, lip pulling back over his teeth.
Darien smiled. “I look forward to seeing what you think you can do to me if that day ever comes.”
Gaven grabbed the shoulder of his jacket in a fist and pulled him in close. “If you are fucking with me, Cassel,” he said, voice low, “I’m going to break you.”
“Reality check,” Darien hissed, leaning in closer. So close, he smelled the fear in Gaven’s blood, his aura thrumming with the color of it, despite his actions. “You can’t break someone who’s already broken.”
He pulled himself free of Gaven’s hold and walked away.
—
“Tanner,” Darien gritted out, clutching the phone tight to his ear. He hurried for his car that was parked up the hill from the warehouse, keeping his voice quiet enough that no one, barely even Tanner, could hear what he said. “I need you to check all the camera feeds in Black Alder. Wipe them all clean, every single one, make sure there is no footage of me and Malakai or my truck—nothing.”
“Everything okay?”
“Barely.” He got in his car, taking one last look at the warehouse, where Gaven’s men still swarmed. “I won’t feel better about this mess until I know there is nothing that can trace back to us.”
“I’m on it. And don’t freak out, okay? You’ve got enough on your plate.” Keys clicked in the background.
“I’ll try.”
“Want me to call you when I’m done?”
“Sure. I’ll be at the Block tonight, so leave a message if I don’t pick up, alright?”
“Meeting with Casen?”
Darien hesitated. “Yeah,” he lied. Meeting with Casen sounded better than admitting that he was fighting in the worst ring in the city, ripping people apart because he couldn’t handle the mess of his life. “Have you heard anything from Arthur?”
“He’s still translating. He said Calanthe left some notes on the scroll, and there were a few things she mistranslated, but he wants to double check them and make sure he’s right. I’ll let him fill you in when he sees you. He’s probably better at explaining it than I am.”
“Right on,” Darien said. “We should have some answers soon.”
