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And bristled at the sight of Dean, his free hand drifting toward the gun that was strapped into his front waistband.

Dean noticed—and barked a husky laugh. “Got you,” he drawled.

Darien visibly relaxed, Loren peering up at him in question as they joined their group. “You scared the shit out of me,” he breathed. “I almost had a heart attack.”

Dean wheezed another chuckle.

“He scared you?” Loren asked. “Why?”

“He looks just like Donovan.” To Dean, he said, “Where the hell did you come from, anyway? What happened?”

Paxton said, “He rescued us. We got arrested?—”

“Well,Paxtondidn’t get arrested,” Shay said with a snicker. “Roman and I did.”

“It was like something out of an action movie!” Paxton gushed. “You should’ve seen it. Dean came out of nowhere and saved our asses!”

“Butts,” Roman corrected.

“Butts—sorry,” Paxton said. He ate another fry.

Dean said, “You must be Loren.” He stepped forward and offered her a hand. “I’m Dean Slade—the Cool Uncle.”

“Dean the Mean,” Darien said. “That’s what we all call him.”

“Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand.

Darien gestured to Dean with a tip of his head. “What’d you tell him?” he asked Roman.

“Everything.”

Darien’s brows went up. “Everything?”

Roman shrugged, took one last drag on his cigarette, and added, “Sorry.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Dean vowed—entirely serious.

Darien sighed. Then nodded and said, “I know.”

It had taken Roman a long time to explain everything to Dean—and then it had taken even longer to convince him that he wasn’t pulling his leg. Even now, his uncle looked like he couldn’t figure out if he was awake or dreaming as he glanced between Darien and the blonde mortal tucked against his side, her hair swirling in a breeze.

Roman was afraid to ask, but he took a deep breath and said, “You hear from Travis?” He tossed the cigarette butt to the pavement and flattened it beneath his boot.

Darien shook his head. “Tanner’s been working on getting cell service back up in Ker.”

“It’s out?”

“The imperator cut it.”

“Shit.” Travis had to be trapped in there, then—there was no other explanation for why he hadn’t called. “What about Max?”

“I haven’t heard from him, either.” Darien was studying him with empathy. Paxton had grown quiet, his fries forgotten. “You guys are probably tired. Why don’t you follow us to Heaven’sGate—you can get comfortable there. It’s not far from here—about twenty minutes.”

Roman squashed the emotions that were threatening to drown him—forced himself to be strong for Pax—and said, “Sounds good to me. Lead the way.”

95

Heaven’s Gate