He laced his fingers over his muscular chest, the dimple in his cheek showing at the challenge she’d presented him with. “A few nights ago, when you tried to stop me from leaving the hospital, I went to see an old friend named Malakai Delaney. You might’ve heard of him: he leads the Reapers.”
Loren gave a nod as something twisted in her gut. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure she could handle where this was going.
“I brought a peace offering to stop Tyson Geller from looking for you, and to start some rumors that the job that involves finding you belongs tome. We need as much space between you and danger as possible, so I had to take some…precautions.” The corner of his mouth quirked with humor. “I brought him a few teeth from the mouth of someone who betrayed him.”
Loren paled, the hand in her fist twisting tight.
“He seemed to like my gift,” Darien continued. “We’re friends again, and the cost was only a few teeth and Tyson’s jaw broken by Mal to seal the deal.” He allowed for his story to sink in, driving fear into her core. A wicked glint entered his eyes. “You look a little woozy, Rookie. Everything okay?”
She swallowed. “If you’re trying to intimidate me, it’s not going to work. I meant what I said: the deal is off if you don’t share everything with me going forward.”
The cocky tilt of his lips lessened. “I didn’t realize you were in charge of whether or not I protect you.”
“I’ve ran for that door before,” she threatened mildly, hoping her words wouldn’t push him too far. “I can do it again.” She was bluffing, but he didn’t need to know that.
Darien’s frown deepened. “If the things you see or hear end up breaking you, that’s on you, not me.”
“Understood,” she said, tossing her hair over a shoulder. She flicked her gaze between him and the papers she’d slapped onto the table, a look of expectance on her face.
Darien sighed. “Tomorrow night, I’ll take you.” He sat forward and shook another pile of salts from the bag. “Now give me a few hours of peace.Please.”
Loren smiled smugly before pushing her chair out from the table. Five hours of research hadn’t been such a waste after all.
She glanced at Tanner again, who was clicking away on his keyboard. As Darien prepared to inhale another line of salts, she whispered to him, “I thought all hellsehers had perfect vision.”
“We do,” Darien said as he shut one nostril with a tattooed finger and snorted the line. His voice was slightly thick from the salts as he added, “He just wears them to look the part.” He waved the hand that held the rolled-up banknote at her, as if to sayshoo.
Loren rolled her eyes.
But as she lifted herself to her feet, the three photographs lying partially atop one another at the edge of the table made her pause.
They were photographs of the newly missing girls. Zoe Brown, Penny Thomson, and Eobha Doyle. Seeing them together like that brought a sick feeling to Loren’s stomach.
Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Roughly nineteen, twenty years old. All of them university students.
“You’re tracking the missing girls?” Her voice was hollow.
“Itriedtracking them,” he corrected. He dropped the curled-up banknote, sat back in his chair, and closed his eyes. He added with a murmur, “I couldn’t find them.”
Darien was too focused on the target he was trying to relocate to be bothered by her reaching across the table to grab the photos.
That sick feeling in her stomach became more intense.
“Darien,” she whispered hoarsely. The images of the three girls trembled in her hands.
Darien’s eyes flashed open to meet hers—black again. And very,veryunimpressed.
Loren turned the photographs around so that they were facing Darien and held them up on either side of her face. “Notice anything?” Her voice wobbled.
“Yeah,” he said in a frighteningly calm tone. “A little girl who’s getting on my last feeble nerve.”
She merely looked at him, waiting, her hands trembling harder as the seconds ticked by. Gradually, the black faded out of his eyes, and understanding—and empathy—washed across his face.
“They look like you,” he said softly.
Loren gave a shaky nod. “They look like me,” she whispered.
Which meantshewas responsible for the abduction of these girls; responsible for whatever fate they would meet at the hands of their captors. Responsible for the lives of their families being turned upside down. If any of them got hurt… If any of themdied—
