Darien pulled Loren behind him so quickly, her shoulder almost dislocated. He got her out of the way on time, firing his pistol at the two gunmen down the street. They fell instantly in sprays of blood, but it wasn’t until Loren had gathered her bearings, where she now lay on the sidewalk behind Darien, that she realized that although he’d succeeding at gettingherout of the way, he couldn’t say the same for himself.
Loren stifled a scream as she lurched to her feet. As she saw the blood soaking his shirt.
One of the bullets had buried itself in Darien’s shoulder.
—
Loren wasn’t breathing.
“Darien.” Bile coated her tongue as she stared at the blood spreading through his shirt. “We need to get you to a hospital.” But Darien only began walking toward the men he’d shot.
As if he hadn’t been shot himself. As if there wasn’t a gods-damned bullet buried in his shoulder. She wanted to slap him for having such blatant disregard for his own life as he stalked toward the bodies. He was breathing heavily, but Loren knew it was from anger, not pain.
Loren hurried after him. “Darien—” Gray gathered at the edges of her vision, and her legs wobbled.
Sirens wailed through the night. Darien froze, hands curling into tight fists. Something like recognition washed over his face.
Lightning-fast, he scooped her into his arms. Emergency response vehicles and squad cars screeched to a halt by Blackbird, the lightbars on their roofs flashing bright red and blue.
“Darien, you shouldn’t be carrying me right now.” She was tempted to add that he also shouldn’t be concerned with getting blood on her dress, for he was holding her in such a way that the white lace didn’t touch his wound. If she wasn’t so worried, she might’ve rolled her eyes.
They made it to the multilevel parking facility, where he loaded her into the passenger seat of the car, ignoring her pleas to put her down and let her walk. He was in the driver’s seat so quickly she would’ve missed it if she’d blinked. He started the car and peeled out of the garage, the rubber burning up a black cloud as he barreled through the exit and raced through the Financial District.
“Darien, slow down.” A red light neared. The speedometer inched toward one hundred and forty miles per hour. “Please slow down.” The intersection grew closer and closer. Loren sucked in a breath and shrieked, “It’s a red light!Darien, it’s a red light!”
He slammed on the break with barely enough time to come to a screeching halt behind the row of cars waiting for the light to turn.
Darien banged his fist on the steering wheel more times than Loren could count, each strike making her jump. After that, the only sound in the cab was their frantic breathing.
The light turned green, and the cars rolled forward.
“Darien,” she whispered. He wouldn’t look at her as he started driving again. “What happened is no one’s fault—”
“No one’s fault?”he bellowed.“Look at your gods-damned neck, Loren.” She gaped at him, not quite understanding. “Where’s the talisman?Where is it?”
Her fingers closed around her neck. The talisman was gone; the only necklace she wore was the solar pendant.
Her fault, then. Darien had been shot because ofher.
Loren tried to swallow, but her throat was too tight. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He ran a hand through his hair, squeezing a fist in it. “It’s not your fault. What I said—what I meant is that it’smyfault. I should’ve already purchased another one for you, especially after last night.” Darien pushed up the turn signal so hard it almost broke.
“Where are we going? We need to get you to a hospital.”
“No hospitals.” Before she could argue with him, he explained, “A good friend of mine works in the weaponry at Lucent Enterprises. I was planning on going there anyway, before all this happened,” he gestured to his bloody shoulder with irritation, “so I could try and find some answers about your lineage.”
Loren swallowed, the smell of blood making her sick. “And this friend of yours will be able to remove that bullet for you?”
“Arthur used to be a doctor. And I trust him as much as I trust my Devils.”
Loren nodded faintly. Her hands were shaking in her lap as she turned to stare out her window, at the buildings glowing with lights.
“Lola,” Darien said softly. She turned her head to show she was listening, but she kept looking at the hands in her lap. “I believe those men were after me, not you.”
“Why do you say that?” Her words were barely audible.
“One of them was Tyson Geller.” As a Reaper, Tyson answered to Malakai Delaney, who Darien had paid a visit to several weeks ago. Loren remembered him telling her that he’d gone to the House of Souls with a peace offering—to make Tyson stay silent about the wannabe Darkslayers who were looking for a human girl. “Tyson never knew any details about you, and neither does Malakai. But Tyson has hated me for a very long time, and I suspect he didn’t take it well when Malakai ordered Tyson’s jaw broken because of me.”
