Titos stared out the window of the shop at the heavy raindrops falling from the sky. A summer shower in Dallas was a rare but welcome occurrence, which normally lifted his spirits. Not now. Not today. Not after Derek’s sudden exit.

“Are you nuts?” Kyros asked. “You let him go.”

“He’s not a Promethean.”

His cousin glared at him. “I see. You know that because why exactly?”

“The detective isn’t our enemy,” he replied. “Prometheans have great faith. He has none.” Derek’s aura had lightened during their lovemaking, but just before leaving, the mortal’s darkness returned a deepened to the blackest black. Hopelessness.

“Did you fuck him?” Kyros asked.