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Darien froze, bloody shard raised in his fist, his eyes—no longer black, thank fuck—snapping to the Butcher’s face.

“That’s enough!” the Butcher shouted. “You’re done. Get cleaned up and meet me outside.”

Darien stood and threw the shard into the cage—right at the Butcher’s face. The magic coating the enclosure zinged, bolts of it rippling. “Are you firing me?” Darien thundered, nostrils flaring.

“For tonight, I am,” Casen replied, trench coat swaying as he walked away. “You came here to cure your insanity, not make it worse.” He gestured with a large hand to the warehouse doors, barely visible above the heads bobbing in the audience. “Outside. Now.”

A buzzer sounded, and the spells coating the cage faded away. One of the workers climbed up onto the roof and swung open the lone door at the top. “Let’s go,” said the hellseher. “You’re the victor.”

He was always the victor, but rarely did it feel like it.

—

Darien stood with the Butcher behind the warehouses of the Umbra Forum, watching the murky lights gleam off the Angelthene River.

Fighting at the Chopping Block provided a faster relief from his Surges than the Pit. It probably helped that the men and demons he fought in that cage were harder to kill than anyone who jumped into Perez’s pit, any demons that were dragged out of the storm drains.

Casen was smoking a cigar at his side, one of those top-quality imported burns sold in the market. Darien had to admit he was breathing in the silken cloud of gray on purpose for some much-needed, second-hand nicotine. He still hadn’t picked up a cigarette, not even with everything going on, and he planned on keeping it that way.

Darien glanced at the Butcher. “Sorry, by the way,” he mumbled. “I tend to black out when I fight. Don’t really know what I’m doing all the time.” Though Darien enjoyed losing himself in the dark and twisted recesses of his mind, it was sometimes a struggle to return to reality. To look around him and see the destruction he’d wrought when he’d allowed his rage to take the wheel.

“It’s fine, kid,” the Butcher said, waving the apology away. “I forgave you the moment you did it. Besides, I know your little performance will only increase my sales and attendance, so no harm done.”

“How’d you get into this line of work, anyway?”

Casen gave a little smile as he stared off into the night. The moonlight was a milky haze on the surface of the Angelthene River, like cream dropped into coffee. “Printed off a few résumés, knocked on a few doors, had a few interviews,” he joked. That smile faded. He wasn’t one to smile often, but the way his features were transformed by whatever thoughts he was having in that moment… It was cold. Darien had never seen anything like it.

He waited in silence as the Butcher gathered his thoughts.

“I came home one day from my shift at a liquor store to find an eviction notice nailed to my door. The wife told me if I didn’t find a way to keep a roof over our heads, she would leave me. And take little Chloe too. She was only three at the time. So, I found a new job, if you can even call it that. Soon enough, I was making a shit-ton of money and a shit-ton of enemies. The babysitter brought Chloe home one night when I was…out.” He paused to swallow. “Found my wife dead on the kitchen floor. Her throat had been slit from ear to ear by a dealer that didn’t like new competition in his neighborhood.” There was a beat of silence, and then he said, “The guy used a knife out of one of our drawers. Cut her open like an animal at the butcher’s.”

Shit. Darien hated that he saw Loren’s face in his head. Saw her bleeding out on his kitchen floor, all because of something that was his fault. By people who had nothing against her and everything against him.

“Chloe was taken from me,” Casen continued. “Big surprise, right?” He smirked, eyes cold as ice. “It was for her own good.”

“I’m sorry,” Darien said. Sorry wasn’t a good enough word. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“She wound up in foster care. I didn’t try to fight for her because I knew she deserved better. She grew up just fine without me. Last I heard, she graduated university and got engaged to her high school sweetheart. A good guy, by the sound of it. Treats her right. Every father’s wish.” A pause, and then he repeated, “She grew up just fine without me. That’s what true love is—for me, anyway. Letting go of the people you care about if it means they’ll wind up with something better.” The words were like a knife cutting into Darien’s heart. Blood pooled in his chest, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

“Does she live here?” he managed to say. He inhaled through his nose, forcing himself to get a grip.

Casen shook his head. “She’s long gone. Got pulled out of this gutter as fast as possible. She and her new parents now live in Glasslight. Small town by the sea. Beautiful place.” He rubbed at his beard absently. “I don’t even know if she remembers my name.” He blinked, eyes refocusing, and turned to face him. “I hope she doesn’t. Man, I hope she fucking doesn’t.” He chuckled, but there was no humor in the laugh.

Darien had nothing to say. And even though the night was warm, he felt an icy chill seep into his bones. The pain in his chest was still there, spreading from the wellspring of his bleeding heart, a pool becoming a lake of hurt. He couldn’t erase the horrifying image of Loren’s lifeless face from his mind. He’d had his fair share of nightmares in his lifetime, but this was the worst one.

Casen gestured to the warehouses. “This is my life now. Take a good look. My family, my wife, my future. This is it. It’s all I got.” He stared at the buildings with vacant eyes, his aura adopting the shade of guilt. Of regret and sorrow.

“You ever think of quitting?” Darien asked. “Starting over somewhere new? Maybe finding Chloe again?”

He pursed his lips. “Nah. I’m in it till the grave. That’s the funny thing about underworlds like the one we’ve got here. They offer you a quick fix to all your problems but at the cost of never getting out again. It’s like selling your soul. Addicting. Damning.” Dark eyes snapped to Darien’s face. “Literal hell on earth.”

He got that right.

The Butcher was studying him. “What about you? You ever think of getting out?” He took one last puff on the cigar before throwing it on the ground and stomping it flat.

“All the time.” Since meeting Loren, he thought about it every day. Sometimes several times a day, especially since she’d walked in on him while he was…working. “What do you think? Think it’s a fool’s hope?”

“Most definitely.” Casen began making his way back to the warehouses, reaching over to muss Darien’s hair as he passed. Had anyone else done it, Darien would’ve smashed their hand into pieces, but he let it slide this time. “But you’re no fool, kid. You’re no fool.”