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Tanner was already moving—grabbing the car keys off the table. “Let’s go, then.”
But Darien didn’t budge. And when Loren lifted her eyes to his face, she found that he was already staring at her.
Ivy extracted her hand from her husband’s and sat forward. “The imperator already knows we’re here,” she said softly. “It doesn’t matter anymore if anyone sees you. You need medical attention, Darien.”
The whole time his sister spoke, Darien didn’t take his focus off Loren, though his face was lined with so much suffering, he looked like he might faint. “You’ll be okay while I’m gone, or do you want to come with?” he asked her, the words thick with agony.
“Darien,” she said gently, his concern for her warming her heart, “I think the only person you should be worrying about right now is yourself.”
“I’ll always worry about you.” His words caused a memory to slam into her so hard, the room spun—
Loren didn’t speak until the parking lot of Angelthene Academy came into view.
“How very kind of you to think this through before you led me on like you did,” she said, her words thick and wobbling. She turned her head to look at him, tears flooding her eyes. “I don’t suppose I get any say in this, do I? You’re the one making all the decisions about us, as if what I want doesn’t matter—”
“This is your life, Loren!” Darien shouted so loudly, he startled her. She blinked in surprise, a warm tear slipping down her cheek. “Forgive me for trying to protect you. I will protect you from anything—even from myself. Always.”
She jerked back to the present, eyelids fluttering.
Darien was staring at her. Everyone was staring at her.
The leader of the Devils stepped toward her.
“Go,” she bit out. “Deal with that,” she gestured to his broken hand, “and we’ll talk when you get back.” She didn’t mean to make it sound like a threat, but it did, even to her own ears.
But it was too late to take it back, too late to say anything else.
Because Darien was walking away, swallowing repeatedly, as if he was going to be sick. Gods, the pain he must be in.
Ivy stood. “Do you need help getting your jacket on, Darien?” she called, following them into the foyer.
“I’ll be fine like this.” Darien’s reply was coated in so much pain, the words were hardly comprehensible—and that black long-sleeve was hardly warm enough in a city like this, but no one argued.
He and Tanner left, and Loren went upstairs to lock herself in her room, where she could mull things over without anyone watching.
She walked back and forth, trying desperately to remember, Singer peering at her from where he was curled up in a misty ball on the neatly made bed.
Everything—she wanted to remember everything, not just pieces. Darien might not be in good condition to talk about this right now, but she was tired of waiting, wondering. It was clear that they had a history together—more than anyone was letting on, and she had no idea why.
As soon as he came back, she would confront him and find out the truth.
Maximus pulled up to the gates to Roman’s house in time to see Darien and Tanner walking out the front doors. Roman sat on the edge of the big fountain out front of the house, elbows on his knees, cigarette burning in hand. Max nodded at him in greeting as he drove by, but Roman did not return the gesture.
Dread curled in Max’s gut.
“Did something happen?” Shay wondered aloud. She was in the back with Lacey, Dallas in the front with Max. He knew she was mostly speaking to herself and not really expecting an answer. They hadn’t spoken to any of the others yet, so no one could know what’d happened.
As Max stopped the SUV—a brand new black one he’d bought before leaving Angelthene, his other too wrecked to fix—his attention snagged on the bandaged hand Darien held against his chest.
What the hell?
He cut the engine and got out, Dallas, Lace, and Shay following.
“What happened?” Max asked the moment he was out. The slam of his door was echoed by three others.
“He ran into some of the imperator’s men at the fire,” Tanner replied. “He went after them and got his hand caught in a car door.”
Max’s face leached of blood. “Shit.”
