Darien wouldn’t look at Loren as he offered the plastic bag to Dallas. She practically ripped it from his grasp. She opened the bag, shook a small pink star into her palm, and tucked it under her tongue.
Five minutes passed and she was able to move—to stand without flinching, as if her pain didn’t exist; was able to leave the room with barely a limp in her step.
Darien still wouldn’t look at Loren.
And when she followed him downstairs, where she hastily stuffed her feet into her shoes before trailing him out the front door, swinging it shut behind her, she blurted, “You used to be an abuser.” The air was wet and cold tonight; it raised her skin to gooseflesh.
“A while ago,” Darien admitted, the words a near-inaudible mumble. He unlocked the car doors; Max and Dallas were already in the former’s SUV, where they were waiting for Darien and Loren to get in their own car before they would follow them to Bright Penthouse. “I couldn’t deal with the shithole that is my life. They helped with the Surges for a time, but I…I wanted to do better. So I stopped.”
Darien didn’t say anything more as he got into the driver’s seat and buckled his seatbelt, the click of the ends connecting loud in the silence.
Darien scrubbed a hand over his face, while he used his other to start the car. “I told you I’m a train wreck, Lola.” His words were filled with regret.
“You’re not,” she whispered. “You want to do good—begood. I can see it in you.”
Darien was breathing so hard his nostrils were flared wide.
Loren took his hand from the steering wheel and gave his fingers a light squeeze, being mindful of the mark of the Blood Covenant that had gone from a light gray to a deeper one, the symbols stark.
“You don’t have to change anything about yourself, Darien,” she said softly. “I know you, and I want you—allof you.”
“I swear I’ll never use them again,” he said in earnest. He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across the scrapes in her palm. She trembled under his touch, warmth pooling in her abdomen, despite all they’d learned tonight. Despite what they were about to do. When he spoke again, his voice was gruff, his gaze intent. “I’ll stop the fighting, too. I will. I hardly need it when I have you anyway.” He swallowed, the strong column of his throat bobbing. “I would do anything for you.”
Loren’s throat tightened, her vision fogging over. “I know.”
“Kalendae is in two days,” he said, the words now tinged with hope instead of regret. He offered up a little smile. “It’ll be my New Year’s resolution.”
Loren’s heart was squeezed so tight, it hurt. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to—”
“I want you,” Darien said. The three words heated her body from her head to her toes. “If the fighting bothers you, I’ll change it. I will.”
“Darien.” His name was a hoarse whisper, her heart that had been pinched with emotion a moment ago now swelling from the determination behind his statement—the promise he was making her.
He winked, kissed the back of her hand again, and said with a grin, “Let’s go catch a witch.”
50
The Bright Penthouse was dark and silent.
Taega was scheduled for training at Fleet Headquarters for roughly the next hour, making this the perfect opportunity to break in and reaffirm what they’d learned.
Loren let the others do most of the searching, for it felt wrong to snoop, even in a place she’d once called home. Taega’s office was the first place they looked for evidence to suggest that Dallas was right—in the safe hidden behind the oil painting of the Red Baron; in the curved mahogany desk that sat before a cushioned bay window; in the floorboards beneath the carpet spread before the hearth, the glowing of the dying fire the only light in the room.
They found what they needed in a false bottom of a desk drawer. In a brown manila folder were six sheets of text messages with date-and-time stamps. The messages Taega had received from a nameless middleman working for Casen Martel’s competition.
It was enough to put her behind bars for many, many years. The conversation that was dated exactly one week ago consisted of Taega arranging to pick up a shipment of Blood Potions and chemicals at a drop-off point near the freeway just beyond the forcefield.
Dallas pressed her fingers to her lips as if she might throw up, as the four of them pored over the messages printed out on glossy paper. “Holy shit,” Dallas breathed.
Loren said, “With the information Arthur found at Lucent Enterprises, this should be enough to implicate her. Shouldn’t it?”
But Darien’s face was lined with confusion. He gestured to the papers spread out on the desk. “Why would she print out these messages? It’s almost like—”
“Find anything of interest?” From the multiple intakes of breath, Loren knew she wasn’t the only one who nearly had a heart attack at the sound of the female voice slithering through the room.
Taega Bright stood in the doorway, her glossy hair burning a flame-bright copper in the light of the dying embers. The wings at her back were tucked in tight, white feathers gleaming.
Dallas stepped forward, baring her teeth. “Would you care to explain why you’re buying from the BP Syndicate, mother dearest?”
