That’s it.
I’m already down the steps, grabbing Ronan from behind and yanking him back with everything I’ve got. He fights me like a mad dog, all rage and heartbreak, throwing his head back—nearly catching me in the face.
I dodge it, barely, growling low in my throat.
“Enough,” I snap, tightening my grip around his chest, pinning his arms as he struggles, “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
He doesn’t answer me. Just keeps thrashing, trying his hardest to finish Darian off. His elbow grazes my busted lip that manages to slip from my grip, and I taste blood all over again.
“Fucking hell, man,” I grunt, forcing his arms behind his back and locking him down. “Get your shit together.”
He stills for a beat, chest heaving under my grip, and I drop my voice, rough but firm.
“Remember who we are. We’re brothers. And right now, she needs us, not this.”
His head dips forward slightly, but the fury doesn't leave him. Not when it comes to her. He's still breathing like he ran straight through hell, every muscle pressed against me, taut and trembling with barely restrained rage. Ronan is completely—utterly—in love with her. Head over fucking heels. And me? I can't wrap my head around that kind of devotion. I wish I could. I really do.
But I don’t.
Not like him.
I keep my arms around his chest, grounding him before he explodes again. My eyes shift to Darian, still standing a few feet away like a statue. He doesn’t move, doesn’t wipe the blood from his skin. Just watches.
Those usually hazel-green eyes of his are nearly black now, unreadable—like something in him finally broke free.
And that scares the shit out of me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. He wasn’t supposed to be able to find us. That blood mage’s cloaking spell was supposed to be solid.
“I can sense her.” He says simply, like it explains everything.
It doesn’t.
I slowly ease my grip off Ronan. He’s still trembling, hands flexing at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. I can tell the pain is starting to cut through the fury.
Good. Maybe it’ll keep him from launching himself at Darian again.
“Still doesn’t explain how you found us,” I say flatly, keeping my body angled between the two of them. “And you really shouldn’t be here.”
Darian's eyes flick towards the house. “I don’t have long. I need to see her.”
Ronan barks a bitter laugh, and teeth and venom. “You’re not going near her.”
He takes a step forward, practically vibrating with disgust. “Wouldn’t surprise me if you tried to slit her throat the second you got the chance.”
I shove a firm hand against his chest to stop him. He winces, and I catch the split-second of exhaustion across his face. His body’s wrecked—he needs rest, not another fight.
“You’re no good to her like this,” I mutter. “Go lie down before you pass out mid-punch.”
To my surprise, he doesn’t argue. Just glares daggers at Darian and backs off towards the house, probably to lie down with temptress.
“She’s not awake,” I tell Darian.
His gaze snaps to mine, like this costs him something. “Just… tell her I know about the darkness. And that this is the last time I’ll be able to see you. If I stay longer… she will find out.”
“How the hell do you know?”
Darian just smirks, cold and tired. “I’m not stupid, Kieran.”
