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“That Kylar’s brother?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. They took them to a warehouse to wait for my dad. The kids managed to get away from them, but they got lost in the warehouse. I got there before my dad did. Killed Simon?—”

“You killed Simon?” His dark brows rose. While his resemblance to Don was uncanny, Dean had shorter, gray-flecked hair, bolder features—more weathered, too, with pronounced smile lines—and a five o’clock shadow that never seemed to go away.

Roman nodded.

Dean’s impressed smile spread. “Good for you.”

“Thanks. Anyway, with the city being evacuated, there was no way—” He gestured behind him, to his little brother, Pax’s contagious laughter bubbling through the diner. “—No way I was separating from him. And no way I was going to give in and have us go with our dad, either.” Gods, what a nightmare that would’ve been. What little freedom they had would’ve been gone. “So, I took him and we just…ran.” Looking back now, it was a good thing they were in such a hurry, or he might not have had the guts to do it.

“Good for you,” Dean said again wholeheartedly. “I’m proud of you. Not just for getting away from Don, but for everything else, too. You’ve done a great job with him.” He gestured to Pax. “And Travis.”

He sighed. “Yeah,that’sa problem that I still need to solve…” He thumped his elbows onto the table and rubbed his temples with his fingertips.

“What do you mean? What problem?”

“Travis. I don’t know where the hell he is.” As soon as he’d gotten his belongings back from the cop car, he’d checked his phone, but Travis still hadn’t called or messaged. And every time he’d tried tracking him—and Max, Jewels, Malakai, Aspen—he got nothing. “He was in Yveswich when the explosion happened. I split up from him and…I don’t know where he is now.” If he was still stuck in there… If he’d died?—

“Wait—rewind.Traviswas inYveswich?”

Roman sighed deeply though his nose and pushed his plate aside so he could fold his arms on the table. “It’s a long story.”

“So? Tell it. I told you, Rome, I got nothing but time.”

“It’s…not really my story to tell.”

He frowned, confused. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” He looked over his shoulder, then out the window—at Dean’s men. There were four of them—four Death Dealers from Tyrmouth, all deadly. All strangers. Dean personally vetted each of his Death Dealers, selecting only people that he trusted with his life, but… Not his story. He had no right to tell it. So, he said quietly, “It means it isn’t safe. To talk about. Not here, anyway.”

“Okay,” Dean said, eyeing him with concern and curiosity. “Well, what’s your plan now? Where you headed?”

“Iwason my way to Darien’s when that shit with the cops happened. I told him I’d be at his house by tonight, but…” He glanced out the window—at the last of the sunlightslipping below the horizon. “Doesn’t look like that’s happening anymore.”

“So we’ll go tomorrow.”

He blinked. “We?”

“Yeah,we,”Dean said, as if it should be obvious.“You really think I came all this way just to say goodbye and fuck off? I’m here to help.”

“And what happens if my dad shows up?”

“Then we’ve had a good life.” He reached for more cold fries.

Roman smirked. “Thanks for being optimistic.”

He sighed. “Roman, I’ve told you this a million times. If you worry about something that hasn’t happened yet, all you’re doing is living it twice. Let’s get through tonight, we’ll get you to Darien’s, and we’ll go from there. ’Kay?”

Roman looked over his shoulder—at Paxton first, then Shay. Then he turned back around, scratching at the back of his neck, thinking.

Dean was studying him. Likely seeing right through him. He tended to do that. Sure enough, he said quietly, “She’s quite the looker, hey?”

“Tell me about it,” he grumbled. “I can’t stoplookingat her.”

“She Athene’s girl?”

He nodded. “Her youngest. Shayla Cousens.”