The black car came to a violent, skidding halt that sent a spray of gravel and muddy water over the silver hatchback's bumper. Darien was out of the door before the engine had even finished its final, predatory growl.
Rain lashed against his expensive wool coat, but he didn't seem to feel the chill. His eyes were fixed on the two figures by the pond, his pupils still dilated into obsidian pits. The bond between him and Amara was screaming, a frantic, vibrating frequency that pulled him toward her with the force of a collapsing star.
"Amara!"
His voice wasn't a call, it was a command that echoed off the rusted hulls of the nearby warehouses. He moved across the dead grass with a blurring, lethal grace, his boots barely seeming to touch the mud.
