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Because he understood that if Loren died, Darien died too. Maybe not physically. Maybe not from his heart ceasing to beat, but he would die all the same.
Max had known Darien his whole life. Never once had he dared to love, not until Loren came along. When Elsie passed away, she had taken with her the spark that was keeping Darien going, the spark that symbolized his future, his innocence. And when she left, Darien had lost it all, his knees bowing to the sheer force of Randal’s influence, causing him to cave and become so many of the things he hated.
But he'd fought it these recent years. Darien had fought hard not to become a mirror image of the man he hated, and in doing so, he was careful to keep his emotions in check, never bending to the four-letter word he viewed as a weakness, ending nearly every relationship that drifted into his life before it could become something more than mindless and heartless fucking.
Until Loren came along. Loren had done the one thing no other woman who’d come before her had been able to do.
She had navigated the labyrinth of his heart. Taken his hand and led him onto a new path, the same path he’d strayed away from when his mother had passed away. He’d opened up his heart to her, had dared to fall in love, dared to dream, and if she was gone, if she died right here in this hospital, there would be no going back.
If Darien lost Loren, Max would lose Darien.
They would all lose Darien.
—
Blackbird was up in flames.
Darien felt like his soul had extracted itself from his body as he lurched out of the car, leaving the door open behind him, and staggered across the street, pushing through the crowds that had gathered to watch. Cops and MPU agents had the area secured. Firetrucks were present, but they were rendered useless. This wasn’t the work of a regular fire. There was nothing any of them could do, no way of putting it out.
It was the work of raw, unfiltered magic. The destruction it spawned could not be contained by anything.
The building would burn. All of it would burn. And when the flames finally quieted, there would be nothing left of the restaurant. The spellwork would keep it from spreading beyond the skyscraper that housed the restaurant, but as for Blackbird itself, there was no hope for it.
This truth nearly pushed him to his knees. But he kept moving, every step swift and determined.
Darien had made it to the front of the crowd and was heading straight for the entrance of the skyscraper—warped and shattered—when a blast of heat and light came from inside the building.
People screamed and staggered back.
But Darien only pushed forward, even as a sweltering wave sent sweat prickling across his skin. The temperature seeped through his bodysuit, the force of the blast blowing his hair back.
Hands restrained him. Gripped his shoulders. Yanked on him. People were speaking, but he couldn’t hear a word.
Until several officers stepped in his path.
“We’re going to have to ask you to step back.”
“This is my mother’s restaurant.” His voice sounded far away, as if his ears were plugged. He was sweating bullets. He couldn’t breathe.
This was a fucking nightmare.
His whole life was a nightmare.
“You can’t be here.”
“Don’t touch me.” He ripped his arm out of an officer’s hold.
His magic awakened, the force of it—invisible again, now that the Veil had been sealed shut—lashing out of him like whips, sending all the men crashing to the glass-covered sidewalk.
But soon more hands were grabbing onto him. More people were pulling him back. More people were shouting.
He was shouting too. He didn’t know what he was saying—what words were coming out of his mouth. It might’ve been nothing, but it felt like everything. His magic knocked people back, along with his fists. His knuckles struck noses and jaws, breaking them upon contact.
A set of hands pinioned his wrists behind his back. They were strong—but not strong enough.
Darien tore his hands free. Smashed his forehead into the nose of the closest officer, shattering the bone, and tripped another.
That was when he heard his sister’s voice.
