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“That’s for me to know and for you to never find out.” He returned to staring at Loren’s gorgeous face on the screen. She was smiling at the camera, head slightly tilted down, waves of golden hair cascading over her chest. He’d cropped himself out of the photo; he hated looking at the face that reminded him so much of Randal. Her, on the other hand… He could stare at her forever. He’d never seen a face as sweet and beautiful as hers, and he’d seen a lot in his lifetime.

Malakai lunged across the vehicle and snatched Darien’s phone out of his hand.

Darien moved, throwing himself across the vehicle, but the Reaper was holding his phone too far away. “Malakai, if you look at a single one, I swear to the gods, I will break both of your hands—”

“Alright, alright.” He threw his phone back at Darien, who caught it before it could smash into his nose. “You really like this one, hey?”

With a scowl, Darien lowered himself back into his seat. “Maybe if you would stop banging lost bar-going chicks who only have half a brain, and start paying attention to the people around you, you could find someone you care about too.”

Malakai’s eyes narrowed. “Why do I feel like you’re making a dig about me and Asp again?”

“Because I am.”

Slumping against his door, elbow braced at the base of the window, Malakai cupped his mouth and stared out the glass. “Asp’s too good for me.” The mumbled words were nearly inaudible, but Darien recognized the regret coating every single one.

“It’s your loss then.” He slipped his phone into his pocket and watched the van approaching on the road down below.

As soon as the watch had switched, the van rolling away, he opened his door and stepped out into the night—another evening with a record-breaking low temperature, his breath fogging in the air before him.

The operation went smoothly, Creature acting as a watch-bat again at the corners of the building—much to the irritation of Bandit—as they disarmed the guards, never once allowing any of them the time to turn around and see their faces.

And then they rolled the warehouse door up and stepped inside. As Malakai ventured deeper into the warehouse, Darien placed the briefcase back on the stack, exactly where he’d found it, his hands covered in black gloves to protect his fingerprints.

“Dare,” Malakai called in a hushed voice from halfway across the building. He was standing beside a tarp-covered skid. “Let’s check this out, shall we?” He threw the tarp off to reveal a skid of black crates, identical to the ones they’d transported to Casa Brewery in the back of one of Gaven’s vans. Now that they were in the warehouse that had solid walls of protection, the crates weren’t covered in concealment spells.

Darien joined Malakai and slid the lid off one of the crates, the scrape of wood rippling through the building.

Inside were boxes of ammunition. They were solid black, not a single one marked. He grabbed one and popped open the lid, only to find what appeared to be glass bullets inside, each of them a different color, just like the cylinders in the silver briefcases.

Malakai stepped up beside him and peered into the box. “These the bullets that guy at the Block was talking about?”

“Looks like it.” If these were the bullets used to kill demons, then the cylinders were likely what his client was using to bring down the Veils.

The scuff of footsteps put them both on high alert. They whirled around at the same time, hands going to their guns—

Only to find a male hellseher standing halfway across the warehouse, looking stunned, feet inching backward.

“Fuck!” Darien barked. He threw the box of ammunition aside and took off after the hellseher, who turned and bolted, making a beeline straight for the door.

Malakai drew his gun and chased after him, three sets of boots now slapping cement. Malakai fired a few shots, but the hellseher was fast. He dodged every one, ducking behind skids and stacks of briefcases to keep Malakai from hitting him with a winning shot.

The guy had nearly reached the door that was still open to the smothering night when Darien tackled him to the ground with a shout.

They rolled into a stack of briefcases, knocking the whole thing over. Darien grunted as he took a few to the back of the head, the rest clattering to the floor. He straddled the guy’s chest, pinning his arms beneath his knees. Just as Darien was reaching for his gun, smoke jetted out of the guy’s nose.

“What the hell?” Darien panted. Veins that looked like molten lava spread across the guy’s skin, burning it on impact, his irises turning a vibrant red. His mouth opened in a silent scream, revealing an orange light glowing deep in his throat, as if he were about to breathe fire.

Malakai caught up and skidded to a stop. “Darien, get back!” he thundered. He grabbed Darien by the shoulders and yanked him away, dragging them both to their asses. “He’s a bomb!” he bellowed. “He’s a FUCKING BOMB!”

“Magic!” Darien shouted, scrambling to his feet. This time, it was his turn to haul Malakai away, pushing him deeper into the warehouse, the both of them nearly tripping over their own boots and the briefcases that were scattered across the floor. “Magic, magic! USE YOUR MAGIC!”

They snapped their shields into place at the last second, black and gray magic melding together to form a shimmering wall.

The man exploded. Even with their magic protecting them, they were blown off their feet with a blast of fire and light.

Darien hit the warehouse ceiling with a bang that rattled his bones. The rafters shook, and the lights burst, plunging the whole building into darkness. The skids of crates and briefcases were smashed into smithereens, aura magic coloring the air with a rainbow haze.

Gravity sucked him back down before he could catch his breath.