Loren fell asleep quickly, the sharp pangs of her migraine chasing her into her dreams. The peppermint oil she’d dabbed onto her temples and the back of her neck was the only thing that ebbed the pain, making it just bearable enough to get some rest.
When she woke back up shortly after Witching Hour., she saw that Dallas had never replied to the messages she’d sent her before falling asleep. In fact, she’d never evenopenedLoren’s messages.
The migraine had dimmed to a dull throbbing in her temples, but when she leaned over in bed to flick on the lamp on the nightstand, she found her eyes were still sensitive to the light. It took her a while before she could make sense of the letters on her screen as she typed her query into the search engine.
The rainbow cursor spun for an aggravatingly long time as the web browser pulled up the phone number for Fleet Headquarters. Once the page loaded, Loren dialled and hit call.
The phone rang for so long, Loren wondered if anyone would pick up, but then the receptionist answered in a tired voice.
“Fleet Headquarters,” the woman greeted. “How may I be of service?”
“Hi,” Loren croaked. She blinked rapidly, forcing herself to focus. “I was wondering if I might be able to talk to Dallas Bright.”
“One moment.” The clicking of a keyboard punched through the speaker. “I’m terribly sorry, but Miss Bright has gone home for the evening.”
Loren’s hand tightened on the phone. “When did class end?”
The receptionist hummed thoughtfully as she clicked another few keys. “Training was finished at eleven o’clock tonight.”
Loren thanked the woman and hung up. It took her several minutes of thinking through the sharp pangs of the headache that was starting up again before she decided to call Dallas.
The line didn’t ring once; it went straight to voicemail.
Loren felt oddly cold. Dread curled in her stomach, her phone shaking in her hand.
Throughout her life, she’d had plenty of arguments with Dallas. And while Dallas was certainly the type to storm out of whatever room or the building they were in, she always came back, and never after dark.
She always came back.
Loren tossed aside the quilts, stripped off her pajamas, and picked the first warm clothes she found out of the dresser.
It didn’t take long to figure out she was the only person at Hell’s Gate, aside from Arthur, who was sound asleep in the east wing. She’d hoped Dallas had come back while she was asleep and was in Max’s room, but that wasn’t the case. And the others had gone out, Darien included, so she had no one to ask for advice as she debated what to do.
The first thing she did was call Darien, but he didn’t answer. Next, she called Maximus, followed by Ivyana; they didn’t answer either. Neither did Travis, Tanner, or Jack. And then she took her chances with a person she’d never considered calling before; she had her number in her phone only because Darien had insisted on giving it to her in case of an emergency.
Lace picked up on the third ring. “What can I do for you,Lauren?”She sounded bored to tears, and Loren grinded her teeth as she mispronounced her name—again.
“I need you to tell me where Darien is.”
A pause.
Loren pressed, “Did he go to a fighting ring?”
Another painstakingly long pause that told Loren that was exactly where he’d gone. “I don’t think he would appreciate—”
“Cut the sanctimonious bullshit, and just tell me where he is!” Loren snapped. Darien must’ve been suffering from a Surge—and she’d been unable to help him due to feeling unwell, hadn’t even woken up when he’d left the house. She’d justhadto be slammed with a migraine on this night of all nights, didn’t she?
The next pause was even heavier. But Lace relented with a heavy sigh. “He’s at the Pit,” she said. “Is there something I should know?” Loren didn’t want to tell her, for this didn’t concern her. And she knew Lace was only asking because she would get in a boatload of trouble from Darien if Loren ended up in danger.
So, she simply said, “No. I’ll be okay as soon as I find Darien.”
Lace told her, somewhat reluctantly, “When you get to the Pit, it might take him a while to realize you’re there. He fights so that he can lose himself to his rage, so he sometimes blacks out from it. I’d advise you to take a cab as far as you can and don’t engage with anyone until you get to the arena. Don’t look at or talk to anyone.” She hung up before Loren could say anything.
Loren’s fingers shook as she typed a new query into the search engine.
It took her a while to find it, for the Pit was a no-holds-barred underground fighting ring that didn’t show up on any map. According to the limited information she found online, weapons were allowed, no protections were given to those who entered or watched, and if someone died on the premises, no one took responsibility. It was a place where spectators placed bets and could win a lot of money by doing so. To even set foot in the building was considered a crime.
The fights were held at an arena privately owned by one of the city’s mob bosses, a man named Antonio Perez who’d purchased the building as a place to host his bloody brawls in an effort to skirt the law.
