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That was why this was worse. Seeing her struggling—especially so out in the open like this—to understand why her father, who had been nothing but unkind to her for twenty years, had bothered to send a group of soldiers to find her. And now she was trapped here, he was gone, and she may die never knowing why. Never understanding him.

Max didn’t understand him, either. The few interactions he’d had with his girlfriend’s dad had been nothing short of terrible, and yet Roark had surprised him—all of them—by pulling through in such huge ways. The warning he’d given them about the forcefield, the way he’d ordered it taken down when Darien had called him in distress, the helicopter he’d sent for Dallas.

What the hell was his deal? Why had he seemed to hate his daughters so much, and why was he suddenly changing his tune? The Roark that Max thought he knew wouldn’t have warned them, wouldn’t have ordered the forcefield taken down when Darien had called—and, as bad as it made him, he probably wouldn’t have sent a helicopter for the daughter he’d all but shunned for twenty years, either.

But this wasn’t the first time Max had caught a glimpse of another side of Roark. The first time was when Loren was in a coma, and he had gone to the hospital to speak with Darien.

Had seeing Loren in the hospital like that changed him? Made him want to be a better parent? It was the only thing that made sense.

Dallas was staring into the distance. Raindrops rolled down her face, disguising whether she was still crying.

They needed to find a phone. Needed to contact Roark. Darien.

Parts of the city still had power. The lights in this district were working, and he spotted a few people in the crowds using cell phones. Until the power went out, which wouldn’t happenin full while the Control Tower was functioning, they still had a chance. If it stopped working…

Well, by then, it’d be too late for them.

“I’m sorry,” Max said hoarsely.

Dallas looked up at him, blinking rapidly as a fat raindrop got caught in her eyelashes. “Why?”

“For getting you into this mess.”

The harsh expression on her face thawed. “You didn’t get me into anything, Max. I’m an adult, I’m capable of making my own decisions. And I chose to stay with you.” She crossed her arms, shielding herself against the chill wind gusting down the street, and analyzed the black cloud billowing against the curve of the forcefield. “I don’t regret staying,” she whispered, so quietly he barely heard her. “If I had gone back to Angelthene and found out you were still trapped in here…Thatis what I would have regretted.”

He swallowed. “Dal, if you die in here?—”

“Then at least I’ll be with you,” she said firmly. Her silver-ringed eyes slid back to him. “I’ve never been afraid of death, Max. Life scares me far more.” At that, his brows pulled together, but he didn’t have a chance to ask her to explain.

Because he caught sight of Travis and Jewels rushing this way.

Max was about to ask them what was happening when Travis skidded to a stop and panted, “We have a problem.”

Travis peeredthrough a window of the hotel lobby as police officers and MPU agents moved about the area they had sectioned off with caution tape.

Two dead bodies lay on the floor by the elevators. One was a female witch missing a huge chunk from her throat. The other was a male hellseher, his corpse riddled with bullet holes, black eyes bolted open in death.

The hellseher’s mouth was the strangest thing about this. His lips were syrupy with blood that coated his chin and neck and puddled on the floor. The kind of shit you’d only see when a vampire or a werewolf committed murder—or simply fed, he supposed. The more uncivilized way. He might not have been top of his class, but it sure as hell looked like the hellseher had ripped the witch’s throat out with his teeth.

Yuck.

“This some weird-ass zombie shit, or what?” Travis murmured. His forehead was pressed against the tinted glass, hand cupped over his eyes to see better.

Max, Dallas, Jewels, and Dominic were here too, all spying through the glass. They weren’t the only people who were being nosy. The whole sidewalk in front of the Duchess was crowded, everyone vying for a glimpse of the macabre scene.

“What do you mean?” Jewels asked him.

“You ever watched a zombie show before? That’s what this reminds me of.” He pointed, accidentally tapping the glass with his finger and causing an officer to look over. “Doesn’t it look like he bit her throat out to you?”

“I mean…yeah.” Jewels cringed.

The automatic doors they’d shut off to keep the public out opened, an officer pushing them apart manually. “Alright, people, everyone clear out.” He waved his hands at the dozens of people peering in the windows, including them. “There’s nothing to see here.”

“Nothing to see my ass,” Travis muttered under his breath. But they stepped back, moving together down the sidewalk.

Dominic said, “I thought this was as bad as it could get, and now we have to watch out for lunatics like that guy.” He gestured to the hotel with an upward tip of his unshaven chin. They couldn’t go back in yet—not until the cops cleared the scene. Travis wanted to ask reception if he could use a phone, but they were shit out of luck for now.

“What happened?” Max asked the Angel. “Did you see anything?”