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The officers closest to the front parted, revealing a face Darien wanted nothing more than to punch. And punch. And punch.

And keep fucking punching until this prick was dead, his skull nothing but red goo.

It was Detective Glen of the Yveswich MPU. The same prick who’d put the forcefield up early.

“Darien Cassel,” Glen barked, spit flying. “You’re under arrest!”

“On what fucking charges?”he snarled.

“Hmm, let’s see…,” Glen began as two officers came up behind Darien, twisting his arms so far back, the pain would’vebrought any sane man to his knees. Cuffs bit into his wrists with metallicclicks.

“Breaking and entering,” Glen began in a sharp voice, ticking the charges off on his fingers. “Trespassing; assault and battery; drug possession; possession of property obtained by crime; theft; vandalism; arson; murder; accessory to murder…” He gave him a cruel smile. “There’s more. Shall I go on?”

Darien’s blood simmered. Bandit growled in his shadow.

A soft gasp had Darien’s head snapping to the side, his arms still pinioned behind his back.

His soul left his body. Because Loren?—

An officer was cuffing her.

“HEY—hands off!”he bellowed, the command ringing through the room.

“Darien,” she gasped. “What’s happening?”

“HANDSOFF!”He thrashed and whipped his head back, shattering an officer’s nose with a sharpcrack. He yowled in pain, while another officer slipped and crashed into the pool with a pathetic scream as Darien roared,“I SAID HANDS FUCKING OFF!”

Glen whipped out a handgun?—

And pointed it at Loren’s head.

Darien stopped fighting. Went rigid. Held his breath.

The room was so silent, so still, theclickof the safety being removed echoed like a fired shot.

Darien’s heart was pounding so hard, he felt like he was having a heart attack. His skin started sweating, as if it were a million degrees in here and he wasn’t sopping wet with cold pool water.

“Darien, it’s okay, ” Loren tried, the words weak and breathy. But it wasn’t okay. They were fucking touching her, pointing a gun at her beautiful head, and he couldn’t breathe.

He—couldn’t—fucking—breathe. He was shaking so hard, the chains of the cuffs were rattling, power straining beneath his skin.

“Stop,” he ground out. Glen cocked his head, his finger teasing the trigger. Darien didn’t care how weak he sounded when he begged—literallybegged, “Point it at me instead.”

Another beat of silence. No one moved. No one breathed.

Glen thought it through, his narrow eyes flicking with critical evaluation between Darien—a Devil—and the human girl—an angel in the flesh, who kept staring at Darien with a beseeching gaze.

And then he swung his arm Darien’s way, stepping so close the muzzle nearly grazed his forehead.

Loren made a little noise in her throat.

Darien saw black as the Sight engulfed his eyes?—

“Ah, ah, ah,” Glen tsked, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Unless you want your little girlfriend—” He briefly swung the gun her way again, the gesture boiling Darien’s blood. “—to pay for your bad attitude.”

Darien didn’t move.

And just like that, the black left his eyes.