“And what about you, Darren?” Karen asked. “You’ve played your fair share of beloved villains. What’s the appeal?”
It was nearly the same question as from theDarkreachpanel. Maybe that was why his answer had sounded off—he could just be tired of getting the same questions over and over.
Still, his answer had been good. She sat back and waited for him to deliver something similar.
Darren didn’t answer right away. Just looked out at the crowd. Then—strangely—straight back to her. She blinked, caught off guard. Something seemed to settle behind his eyes.
“You know, I recently read a book that made me think about this.”
Emma’s heart gave a violent kick.
The faintest curve touched his lips.
He couldn’t mean . . .
Could he?
Oh no.
Oh no no no—
Darren turned to Karen.
“It had a character who, well, he’s not exactly a hero. He binds someone’s soul to his own. He manipulates her. Threatens her. Saves her, hurts her, loves her, betrays her. And still, you can’t help but root for him.”
There was a murmur rising from the audience. A low hum, swelling steadily. Emma’s mind slammed shut, screaming denial. She must have been imagining. Some kind of stress-induced hallucination.
But the crowd was thinking the same thing, weren’t they? The whole room seemed to lean in, like they might catch the next words just a fraction sooner.
Darren went on, as if oblivious to the tension. “I finished it in two days. Couldn’t stop. The writing was sharp, the relationships complex, and the villain...” He paused, just long enough.
The bastard. He knewexactlywhat he was doing. Emma held her breath, bracing.
“Well, let’s just say—he was the love story.”
A surge of screams rose from the back of the room.
Emma felt flushed and frozen at once, like someone had freaked out in the control room of her brain and slammed every lever.
No way he had chosen those words by accident. That was Lucen’s tagline—coined not by her, but by the fans.
Darren looked at her now—really looked.
“The Bonds of Lightby Emma Whitehart,” he said, as if offering it to the room. “Highly recommended.”
The crowd erupted.
There were no other words for it. The roar hit Emma like a shockwave. Chaos first—shouts, whistling, an army of phones lifted high. Then a chant began on one side of the room.
“Lucen. Lucen. Lucen.”
More voices joined, finding the rhythm, until the whole room pounded with it. A living drumbeat, rattling Emma’s ribs. Beside her, she felt Darren watching her through the mayhem, steady and unflinching.
“Lucen, Lucen, Lucen, Lucen.”
She gave a helpless laugh, melting completely inside. “You drop that on me on stage?” she blurted to Darren, too overwhelmed to keep any kind of façade up.
He grinned, unapologetic. “Yep.”
