Sprawling hotels, fast food restaurants, blood donor clinics, and billboards streaked by her window in blurs of color and light. “And this is going to help me in what way exactly?”
“For one, it’s the safest place for you in the whole city.” He zipped through the streams of traffic, not seeming to notice that she was holding onto her seatbelt with a white-knuckled grip. Maybe he simply didn’t care. “No one with half a brain would set foot on my property. And two, Hell’s Gate is protected by the most powerful spellwork in the world. And me and my six Devils are the only people in the city who know how to hack the systems as efficiently as we can.”
“I’m assuming this car is equipped with those kinds of spells?”
He nodded once, accelerating to clear a yellow light.
“How did those other bounty hunters track me today, if you and the Devils are the only people who know how to hack magical systems?”
“It’s not that they don’t know how; they just can’t do it as quickly or as effectively as we can. New protection spells are always coming available to the highest bidders at the Umbra Forum, so it can be hard for people to keep up.”
He accelerated through another light. A box of ammo that was resting on the dash slid off and clattered to the centre console. The lid popped open, and several bullets pinged free, flinging into the cracks between the seats and between Loren’s thighs. She didn’t bother fishing them out, and Darien didn’t seem to notice anyway, continuing talking as though nothing had happened.
“To answer your question,” he was saying, “I think they started following you sometime after you left campus and appeared again on the streets.”
Cripes, she needed to distract herself from how bloody fast he was driving. The vehicle was weaving through six lanes of rush-hour traffic so quickly, she had no idea how he was managing not to hit anyone.
“So, when I walked off the avenue just now,” she gritted out, tearing her wide-eyed gaze from the highway, “is there a chance anyone saw me?”
“Maybe.” He gave a shrug of his broad shoulders. “If anyone else was looking for you at that immediate second. But they can’t track us now; I upgraded the wards on my car last night.”
Loren figured it was some peace of mind at least.
Darien glanced at the clock on the dash. “I’m taking you to your academy first. I figured you’ll need to grab a few things if you’re staying at my place.”
“I don’t think we should go to the academy,” she said. Darien looked at her in question. “If Dallas… If my friends see me, they’ll wonder where I’m going, and I’d rather not be asked a bunch of questions right now.”
“Where to, then?”
She gave him the address to the penthouse. He had to change his course, though only slightly, for Taega’s apartment wasn’t far from the academy. Loren figured this was her safest option, considering it was more than likely that Dallas’s mother wasn’t home. Taega spent twelve hours a day training new soldiers of the Aerial Fleet at their headquarters near the Control Tower. As for Roark, better known as the Red Baron, he was currently away for work, as he often was. Loren would be in and out of the penthouse in a matter of five minutes; Taega would never even know she had been there.
Hopefully.
They navigated the streets in silence. Loren had lost herself in her own thoughts, twisting her seatbelt in her hands as though she were wringing water from it, when Darien’s voice made her jump.
“Relax, Loren.” They were idling at a red light. She wondered how long he had been watching her for. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”
“I’m fine,” she lied. But her voice was a squeak.
He eyed her up. “You’re pale, tense as a tightrope, and I’d be willing to bet you’re not breathing properly.”
“So, what’s my diagnosis?” She’d meant for it to come out funnier than it sounded.
Regardless, he smirked a little. “A bad case of fear.”
The light turned green, and they carried on.
When they reached the North End, with its pristine streets and fancy apartments, Darien’s scar-flecked hand tensed on the steering wheel. Loren had no idea what his problem was, but she instructed him to turn left into the Santa Aria Flats.
“Were your parents born into cash or are they career driven?” His deep, attractive voice was oddly cold.
Not bothering to enlighten him about her tragic past, she said, “Career driven. Nothing they have was handed to them for free.” She gestured up ahead. “You can park by these hedges here, and I’ll run inside. Mine is the apartment building on the left.”
Darien did as she’d instructed, then circled back to his earlier question as he shifted into park. “Not like you, then.”
Loren froze mid-reach of the door handle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means it must be nice to have everything handed to you by wealthy parents.” His tone was as scathing as the accusation behind the words.
