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Gaven’s smile grew. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

—

When he was back in his car, Darien slammed the door shut and pushed his hair back hard enough to make him tear up, rings catching in hair gel, anger blowing up inside him like a balloon.

“I hate that prick!” he fumed, striking the steering wheel with a fist. It vibrated from the impact, the keys he’d left in the ignition clinking, the succulent keychain Loren had made for him eyeing him with accusation.

He’d almost forgot Malakai was in the car when he spoke. “You sure you don’t want to just kill him and his dickheads right now instead of doing all this legwork?”

“Tempting, but no.” He started the car and turned on the headlights, bright beams illuminating a group of vampires and witches making their way to the club doors, all of them dressed to the nines. “I made a deal, and I’m not about to back out on it.”

“What does this Finn guy mean to you, anyway?”

Darien pulled out onto the road, the swift acceleration attempting to yank him back against the seat. “He’s been an acquaintance for a few years. A sort-of friend who bailed me out of trouble a few times during my partying years.” He cracked open his window, a balmy breeze that smelled of creosote and asphalt floating in. “But it’s not about that. It’s about protecting my family and my home. I won’t cut any corners and risk Gaven’s men retaliating.”

“And what about these connections I keep hearing he has outside of Angelthene? We can’t possibly take them all down, there’s no way.”

“Maybe not. But if you render their entire operation useless and too risky to start up again, I’m banking on the stragglers that are left behind not having the guts to try anything with us. Besides, you’re talking like Gaven’s going to find out what we’re doing.” He pinned Malakai with a look. “And I have no intention of being caught. You still with me?”

Malakai’s silver canines glinted with a smile. “What’s the plan?”

“The Iron Dock at sunset tomorrow. We’re delivering a special shipment for Gaven to Casa Brewery.”

“Us?”

“Yes.”

“Did he say what it was?”

“Course not.” He gave Malakai an evil grin. “But I’m planning on finding out.”

Malakai pumped a fist in the air. “Hell yeah!”

“Told you this would be worth your time.”

After Darien dropped Malakai off at the House of Souls, and the Reaper disappeared through the gates with his signature middle finger thrown over a shoulder, he stayed parked on the side of the road beneath the shelter of a jacaranda tree and called Finn.

As he waited for the detective to pick up, he found his head turning toward the cemetery across the street.

One blink brought him back in time, and he lost himself to the same awful memory he’d seen not too long ago, the one he couldn’t bring himself to discuss with Loren when she’d asked him about it. He saw it so vividly, it was as if it had happened only yesterday, and his stomach twisted with the same horror and loathing as it had back then.

Where Darien was sitting on the end of his bed, Bandit curled up at his side, he turned up the music to the highest volume. It blared through his earbuds, so loud it felt like his brain was bleeding.

He welcomed the pain. The noise. Anything to stop him from hearing what was going on in his parents’ bedroom. The noise drifting from that room wasn’t something you’d hear from a happy couple. Randal Slade and Elsie Cassel weren’t happy. They hadn’t been happy for a while now.

Darien couldn’t take the sound of fists striking his mother, of boots kicking her in the ribs and hips, long after she’d already crashed to the floor. Long after she’d already had enough. She was begging Randal to stop, but the only person who decided when Randal stopped was Randal.

With the music blaring through his earbuds, Darien didn’t hear when his bedroom door opened. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ivyana step into the room. In her arms, she held Soot, whose ears were lying flat.

Darien lifted his head. Yanked one earbud out.

“He’s going to kill her.” Ivy’s whispered words were barely audible, her steel-blue eyes shining with tears. She hoisted Soot up higher, the dog’s long, misty limbs dangling past Ivy’s hips. Like Bandit, her Familiar was getting too big for her to carry.

Darien pulled the other earbud out and threw his phone on the bed. If Ivy had to listen to this shit, then he would listen to it too.

He patted the bed. Ivy crossed the room and sat down beside him.

Darien wrapped an arm around his sister’s shoulders. “He won’t kill her,” he said. “I promise.” But even he could hear the uncertainty in his words. This kind of behavior had been going on in the household for a while now. He and Ivy had turned fourteen two weeks ago; less than four years from now, they would finally turn eighteen. He was holding onto the hope that when that day came, they would be able to get out of here and away from their father. His mother would come too, of course. They didn’t speak of this dream often, but on one of her weakest nights, Elsie had vented to Darien about her plan.