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The detective stood on the other side of the table. Hands on his hips, face as cold as stone. “What were you doing at The Queen?”

“I already told you,” Darien said in a level voice, staring with hard, unblinking eyes at the asshole who’d ordered him arrested outside of the hotel. “We were looking to book a couple rooms.”

The detective slammed a hand down on the table. “Lie one more time,” he growled, stooping to Darien’s eye level, “and you’ll be looking through bars for the rest of your worthless goddamn life!”

Darien ignored the threat and glanced behind the detective—looking through the reflective window that separated this room from the one Jacky was in.

Jack grinned and held his index and middle fingers up to his mouth, tongue waggling between them.

Darien smirked.

“What’s so goddamn funny?” the detective fumed.

“My brother in law thinks you’re a pussy.” His eyes snapped back to the detective’s cold stare. “Your spells are a little weak.” He winked.

The guy rounded the table, stopping right by Darien’s chair. “I don’t like having to repeat myself,” he said, nostrils flaring. “What were you doing at The Queen?”

“I already told you. We were looking for rooms.”

“Innocent people just died,” he spat.

“You ran background checks already?”

The detective punched him in the face.

The impact whipped Darien’s head to the side. Pain bloomed through his jaw, but he welcomed it. Finally, he was feeling something that wasn’t soul-crushing heartbreak.

The monster inside him stood up and paced. It foamed at the mouth, thirsting for blood. Darien prepared to unleash it. He flexed his jaw—

And laughed, the sound quiet, deadly, and short-lived. “You’re one of those dirty cops.” Darien’s smile turned into a baring of teeth. “I fucking hate cops. Especially dirty ones.”

“And I hate piece of shit criminals like you.”

“You don’t have the best control for someone in a position of authority.” And he was also stupid for getting this close.

Darien swept out his leg and kicked the guy’s feet out from under him.

He landed on his ribs on the side of the table with enough force to knock the wind out of him. The detective reached for his gun, but before he could draw it or get back up, Darien acted, breaking the chains of his cuffs with one hard snap—

And lunged, grabbing the broken end of the chains with one hand and wrapping them around the prick’s throat. Looping the ends around his hands for better grip, Darien spun the detective around and pinned him to the table with a knee to the spine. Pulled hard on the chains, cutting off his airways.

The door banged open.

Voices shouted. Hands drew guns. Five officers, all for him.

“Step back!” one of them barked. “Put your hands in the air!”

Darien addressed the detective thrashing under his hold. “No one talks to me like that,” he murmured. He pulled tighter, making him gag. “No one.”

“Let him go, Cassel!” Darien recognized that voice—it was Finn.

Darien’s smile was deadly. “Hold on, I’m almost done.”

Another said, “Let him go, or I’ll shoot!”

Darien pulled harder, the chains cutting into the detective’s throat. He heard skin split. Felt the warmth of the man’s blood slipping over his fingers. Darien looked up with eyes that flickered black, pinning the other officers in place with a hard stare. Daring them to make one fucking move. The room was silent save for the gurgling coming from the man in his grip and the tinkling of his fingernails on the chains as he clawed at them.

Three more seconds, and then he let go of the detective with a shove. “So touchy,” he tsked. He glanced at the purple-faced detective, who gasped for air, both hands braced on the table. “Might want to get that checked out,” Darien said. He acknowledged Finn with a nod. “Afternoon, Finn.”