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Not real,he told himself.This isn’t real.

The leisurely pounding of boots had him opening his eyes.

In the short time that his eyes were shut, the street had melted away. He was back in the present—back in the purple house. But the view outside the windows was pitch-black, suggesting that he was still trapped someplaceelse.

Slowly, he turned around…

In the center of the living room stood his uncle Donovan Slade. His two-headed wolf Familiar melted out of his shadow and stalked up to his side, eyes glowing in the dark like four sun-struck rubies.

Darien lifted his chin, his good hand curling into a fist at his side.

Donovan’s lips formed an evil smile. “Hello, Darien.”

10

North Financial District

YVESWICH, STATE OF KER

In the backof an ambulance that raced through the streets of Yveswich, Loren tried to stay calm as two paramedics worked over Jewels.

The Reaper had gone into cardiac arrest. Already, her skin was sickly pale, her lips tinged with blue. The paramedics had loaded her into the ambulance so quickly, Loren might’ve missed it had she blinked, their efficiency worthy of applause. But the tension choking the air told her that regardless of speed, there was still a chance they were too late.

Malakai stood statue-still in the farthest corner from Loren, his eyes shining with emotion at the sight of his sister lying motionless on that stretcher.

Ivy was in here, too—the third and final person granted permission to ride in the back of the ambulance. Ivy had declared that until they found Darien, she would go everywhere Loren went—no doubt to keep Loren from putting more than just her own life in danger.

Loren sat beside Ivy on the squad bench, both hands gripping the edge, as the ambulance was jarred about by potholes and debris.

“Clear.” Another press of the paddles sent Jewels’s body arcing against the stretcher, but still no heartbeat was detected.

Through the windows in the doors of the ambulance, Loren watched as a once-beautiful city—now hardly more than a wasteland, a slaughterhouse—passed by in half-lit blurs. Bodies were strewn about the streets, some half-eaten, others mangled or burned to a crisp by the explosion.

A nightmare. This was all one big, horrible nightmare.

Just when she had finally made progress—finally made it out of the blinding darkness and reunited with the others—she was being forced to backtrack. She couldn’t help but dwell on each rotation of the tires, each mile taking her farther away from Roman’s. Away from all the places where she believed she might’ve reconnected with Darien.

Please be alive,she begged, mouthing the words as the ambulance wove through the streets, more butchered lumps flitting by. She shut her eyes, tears burning behind her lids, and pictured Darien’s handsome face in her mind—his rare smile, the dimple in his cheek.Please, please be alive. I need you.

She wished she could hear his voice again, telling her that everything was going to be okay. That he was with her, and he would protect her.

But her only reply was the howling of the monsters outside.

The paramedics—a male hellseher and a female witch—were speaking in code. Still fighting death. Malakai had resorted to crouching, his head bowed between his knees, his shaking hands fisting his hair.

Four minutes. Jewels had already been dead for four minutes.

‘That was me,’Darien had said to Loren in Roman’s training room, when she had called him out on his decision to lie to her, and he’d responded by confessing his feelings for her before the rest of her lost memories had found their way back.‘That’s whatI was doing, when you said you were drowning? When you said I helped you breathe again? That was me, resuscitating you. I did all of that foryou,Loren.Because I love you, sweetheart.’Gods, did he ever.

He’d gone through hell and back with her.Forher. Had witnessed her heart stop more than once. Had brought her back to life—more than once. Through it all, he had never given up on her. Not even considered it.

How lucky she was to have someone who cared so much.

How lucky she was to be loved by him.

As the paramedics worked on reviving the Reaper, Loren’s vision tripled, and she had the sense that she was peering down a narrow tunnel. Watching all of this happening from someplace else—somewhere outside of her body. Nothing in here felt real. Not even Ivy, who sat close enough to touch.

Her heart began to race. Her skin began to tingle and sweat. The next thing she knew, the paramedics were declaring a steady pulse, but by the time the words left the witch’s lips, and the ambulance was jostled extra hard by something on the road, Loren lost her balance and toppled off the bench.