" John jumped to the side as an entire keg came flying at his head.
Fortunately, Vishous was able to grab it before the thing hit the mosaic floor out in the foyer—which would have been a bitch to fix.
“We gotta keep him contained,” someone muttered.
“Amen,” somebody else replied.
“He gets free in the house, and it’ll be shit even Fritz won’t know how to clean up.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Everyone turned and stared at Lassiter.
The fallen angel with the bad attitude and even worse taste in just about everything had appeared from out of nowhere—and was looking serious, for once.
“What the fuck is that?” V demanded as the angel put a thin gold pen up to his own mouth.
Turned out it wasn’t a fancy Bic.
With a quick puff, Lassiter discharged a tiny dart across the room—and when it hit Wrath in the shoulder, the impact was as if the King had been struck by a bullet in the chest.
He went down hard, his body stiffening and then falling like an oak.
“What the fuck did you do!” V pulled a Wrath and went for the angel.
But Lassiter got right back in the Brother’s face. “He was going to hurt himself, the house, or one of you assholes! And don’t get your fucking panties in a wad. He’s just going to have a little nap—”
Wrath let out a soft snore.
Moving carefully, the Brotherhood closed in like they were checking out a grizzly and John went with them.
As a circle formed around Sleeping Beauty, there was a lot of cursing under breaths.
“If you’ve killed him—”
Lassiter put his gold whacker away. “Does he look dead.”
No, actually, the poor bastard looked like he was at peace with himself and the world, his coloring strong, his body so relaxed his shitkickers were lolling to the sides. "

― J.R. Ward , The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood, #12)