by Cynthia Eden
“F-failed . . . experiment . . .”
Ah, now wasn’t the guard turning into a talker.
“Where’s his body?” Eve demanded and Cain realized that she had a gun shoved into the man’s side. He knew that she’d taken that weapon from the hands of a fallen guard back near the lake. The woman liked to be armed. Cain could respect that.
“Furnace room . . . gonna . . . burn him . . .”
Eve stabbed her gun harder into the human’s side. “Tell me where to find that room.”
“Go . . . left . . . all the way . . .” He tried to point with his broken hand.
Someone was being useful. “And Wyatt?” Cain wanted to know as he flipped the guy around to face him. “Where is he?”
The guard stared at Cain. Yeah, that was fear blazing in the man’s eyes. Cain knew that look well.
“His office . . .” the guy muttered. “Basement, sub-level one . . .”
Definitely useful info. Cain slammed the guy’s head back into the wall.
Now someone was unconscious.
Cain had caught sight of an elevator on his first trip into the fun house. He shoved the guard’s body into the corner then turned right, heading for that elevator.
He’d taken two steps when he realized Eve wasn’t coming with him. He froze. They only had so much time. . . .
Cain glanced back at her.
“I have to see him for myself.” Eve’s chin lifted. “I’m not leaving until I make sure that Trace is dead.”
Morbid. And a pain that she didn’t have to experience. “They’ve probably already burned his body.”
She flinched. But Eve turned away, heading back down the hallway that would take her to the furnace room.
Guessing Wyatt burned plenty of bodies in there.
Cain looked back at the elevator. This was his chance. He’d slipped in, and now he could get to Wyatt. The bastard still thought he was buried under all those rocks.
The perfect opportunity . . . Cain stalked toward the elevator.
This was what he’d wanted. What he’d fought for. Vengeance. Wyatt deserved every minute of torment that he was about to get.
Cain’s fingers lifted toward the elevator button. He heard Eve’s footsteps slip away.
Eve kept her back pressed to the wall as she eased down the steps and headed toward the furnace room. Just the name of that place had her stomach tightening. Trace didn’t deserve this end.
My fault. He’d been trying to help her, and he’d wound up here. How the hell was that fair?
She wasn’t going to leave him there, even if all she could do was drag his body away from this hellhole. Trace had been her friend. She wouldn’t just leave him without a backward glance.
Two guards headed toward her. Even though she had a weapon, Eve didn’t leap forward and fight them. Stealth and surprise were her tools, and if she could avoid some bloodshed, then yes, please, that was what she’d like to do. She hunched into the shadows and didn’t make so much as a sound.
The guards marched by her. Didn’t even glance her way.
Once they were gone, she started breathing again.
And after a few moments, she started walking. Now that she was on the right floor, it wasn’t hard to find the furnace room. There was just one big, heavy metal door at the end of the hallway. All the other doors were made of normal wood. She was guessing the metal entrance led to the flames.
To Trace.
There was a lever in front of the metal door, no doorknob. So she spun the lever. Once. Twice. The third time, she heard the grind of gears and the door slid open with a clang. She stepped inside.
“What the hell are you doing here?” a sharp voice demanded.
Crap. Eve whipped out her gun and pointed it at the guy in the white lab coat.
He gulped and his eyes doubled behind the lenses of his glasses. “Guard, what’s happening?”
Right. She was supposed to be a guard. “Th-there’s a change in plans. I’m here for the werewolf.”
His gaze darted to the table on his left. To the body that was covered by a white sheet. “I’m disposing of him now.”
“The hell you are.”
He blinked, then his gaze swept over her. “You’re not one of the normal guards. This isn’t your floor.”
Seriously, the dude was slow on the uptake. Didn’t he realize she had a gun pointed on him? Was that normal guard behavior?
In this place, maybe it is.
Eve smiled at him. “No one has to get hurt here. I’m just going to take that wolf off your hands.”
But the man put his too-thin body between her and that table. “He has to be destroyed. He’s infected.”
Infected?
“I told Wyatt the experiment was dangerous, but the fool wouldn’t listen. They never listen to me here.” Sweat beaded his high forehead. “I have to burn the body before the wolf wakes up.”
Before the wolf wakes up . . . Her heart slammed into her chest. “He’s still alive?” Hope had her feeling light-headed. Yes! Trace was—
The man lunged for her. His fingers wrapped around the barrel of the gun and he tried to yank the weapon right out of her hand.
He was lucky she didn’t shoot his idiotic self right in the heart. Instead, Eve jerked the weapon back even as she kicked the guy in the groin. He groaned and staggered away a few steps, almost ramming into Trace’s body.
“Are you crazy?” she snapped at him. “You don’t charge at someone holding a gun.” That was a pretty clear rule.
Well, you didn’t charge when you were just a human, anyway. And this guy seemed to shout, “Human!” from every pore.
But he wasn’t looking at her. He’d grabbed the table—no, not a table, a gurney—that held Trace’s body, and he was shoving that body right toward the open furnace. A big, giant furnace with a gaping mouth and flames burning inside. The thing looked like what she’d seen inside a crematorium once.
Not the nicest memory.
“Stop!” Eve screamed, lifting her gun. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He ignored her. He was too busy panting and shoving that gurney. Trying to dump Trace’s body in the fire. “Have to . . . destroy . . . before . . . monster wakes . . .”
No. Eve lunged for him and swung the butt of the gun at the man’s head. There was a loud thud as the weapon made contact.
The guy fell to the ground, his body sprawling in a limp heap.
Eve stepped around him and yanked the gurney away from those dancing flames. She grabbed the sheet and tossed it aside. “Trace?” Bullet holes covered his chest. So much silver. She could smell it all around him. Silver and blood.
Holding her breath, Eve put her fingers to his throat. Was there a pulse there? Or was it just her imagination? Her gaze flew around the room. There—a tray of instruments. She rushed to them, dropping her gun on the nearest countertop. She’d get the gleaming tweezers and pull out the silver bullets, or what was left of them. Werewolves always healed better once the silver left their bodies.
She curled her fingers over the tweezers, sent the other instruments scattering, then heard a screech of sound behind her.
Eve spun around. The gurney had flown across the room and crashed into the wall and Trace—Trace was on his feet. Still bloody, but standing on trembling legs.
“Trace!”
His head snapped up at her call, and his eyes locked right on her.
She’d never seen such fury in his stare before. So much blind rage and hate. It all seemed to be directed right at her. “Trace, I’m sorry,” Eve whispered.
There was no recognition in his eyes. Just more fury. He charged for her, and claws burst from his fingertips.
Eve leaped back from his attack. Her fingers flew over the instruments. She grabbed a scalpel. The gun was too far away. “Trace?” Her fingers curled tightly around the weapon, but Eve didn’t think she could use it. He had been hurt so much already because of her, she didn’t want to do anything else to him.
/> His hand closed around her throat. He lifted her into the air, and her feet kicked uselessly.
Then he smiled at her, a cold, cruel smile that flashed his fangs, and fear iced her heart.
Wyatt hunched over his desk. It was only a matter of time, just a few more moments.
And his prey would be coming to him.
He couldn’t look eager. Couldn’t even look aware. But he was ready. So were the guards who waited in the next room. As soon as the sensor alarm was triggered in his office, those guards would leap out and attack.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew Cain wouldn’t be held back for long. He also knew the phoenix wasn’t just going to run away with his tail between his legs. No, the phoenix would be coming right inside the lab.
I’m ready.
He didn’t need Cain any longer. The man was a threat that had to be eliminated. Luckily, Wyatt knew just how to reach the phoenix’s vulnerable spot. Eve was the key, a weapon that, with time and care, could be molded and used most effectively.
But he didn’t have time for her training. Not then. He did have a backup plan. Another who could kill Cain. Another who would . . . for the promise of freedom.
Wyatt kept his back to the door as he pulled a small mask over his nose and mouth. Anyone coming from behind wouldn’t see that mask. A fatal mistake.
Cain’s mistake.
The door hissed open behind him. Such a soft, silent sound. If he’d been a normal human, he would have missed that telling noise. Thanks to his father, Wyatt was far from normal.
And I’ve got the scars to prove it.
The floor creaked beneath his would-be attacker’s feet. He let himself smile. Just a little closer . . . just a little closer . . .
Wyatt pushed the button under his desk, and the door to his office slid closed, sealing the attacker inside with him. He raised his hand to hold the mask in place and spun to face Cain. “Your mistake, phoenix—”
Cain wasn’t there.
Ryder stood a few feet away, his fangs out.
“W-what—”
No, that wasn’t the plan. Gas fell through the slats in the ceiling, but it had never affected Ryder. The vampire was too old, far too powerful, and only a stake or fire could take him out.
We’d thought he was just a changed human. When Ryder had first been targeted, their intel had been off. Ryder wasn’t easy prey. Far from it.
He was the fucking king of the vampires. Maybe the first one ever born.
The door to the right slid open. Wyatt’s guards rushed out, just as he’d planned.
Ryder killed all five of them instantly, then dropped their bodies to the ground. Their blood covered his shirt, his hands, his chin.
The gas continued to leak into the room.
Taking his time, Ryder closed in. “You have something of mine, Wyatt” he said, snapping his teeth together, “and I want her back.”
She couldn’t breathe. Eve clawed at Trace’s fingers with her left hand even as she used her right hand to stab him with the scalpel—sorry, Trace, sorry!—but he wouldn’t let her go. Dark spots danced before her eyes. His claws were cutting into her skin. She couldn’t suck in a breath. As she fought him, Eve could hear the pounding of her own blood, echoing and throbbing in her ears.
I’m dying. At the hands of the last man she’d ever expected to hurt her.
“Let her go.”
That couldn’t be Cain’s voice. Cain was gone. He’d headed off to fight Wyatt. That wasn’t Cain’s voice.
And Trace wasn’t letting her go.
“I said . . . let her the fuck go!”
Eve couldn’t see anyone. The room had gone black but she smelled . . . burning flesh.
Then she was on the floor. Her hands and knees slapped into the hard tile as she sucked in as much air as she could. The air seemed to sting her lungs, but she didn’t care, she just wanted to breathe.
After she managed to get in a few breaths, Eve pushed the hair out of her eyes and lifted her head. She could still smell that horrible, acrid scent—and it was coming from Trace.
He was on the floor, rolling around to smother the flames that licked along his body.
Cain grabbed Eve’s arms and pulled her to her feet.
Cain. “What—you came back.”
His gaze blazed at her. “Something’s wrong with your werewolf.”
Um, other than him being on fire?
Rising onto her toes, Eve glanced around Cain’s shoulder. Trace was back on his feet. He was . . . smoldering. He stared at her and Cain like he couldn’t wait to rip them apart.
“Trace?” Her whisper. “Don’t you know me?”
That blind gaze said he didn’t.
“Animals fear fire,” Cain said, and Eve realized he was keeping his body and his flames between her and Trace. “Right now, he’s far more animal than man.”
Yes, he was. Eve could see it. She didn’t know why this was happening. Trace always had such control over his beast, and he would never, never hurt her.
The bruised flesh on her throat told a different story.
The females in Trace’s pack had been hunted long ago, picked as easy targets by their enemies. They’d been attacked, slaughtered, all to send a message to Trace’s father.
We’re taking over.
Trace had found the broken body of his mother. His sister.
And he’d been the one to go out and kill the other alpha to get his vengeance. Trace had one rule in the world, one rule that he always followed . . . Trace never hurt a woman.
But he just hurt me.
Cain sent a burst of fire toward Trace. Trace snarled and backed up. Eve realized then, Trace hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t said a word since he’d climbed off that gurney.
More animal than man.
Only he hadn’t shifted into the form of a wolf. His claws were out. His body looked bigger than before, but he wasn’t shifting.
The experiment didn’t work. The words whispered through her mind and made her heart ache. Wyatt. He’d done something to Trace. Changed him.
“I told you!” The scream had Eve’s head snapping to the right and finding the guy in the white lab coat. He’d staggered to his feet. “We should have killed the monster before he woke up!”
Killing Trace hadn’t been an option for her. It still wasn’t. Her friend was in there, somewhere. The same way that Cain was there when he rose from the fire. They just had to find a way to reach Trace—
Trace leaped across the room and slit the human’s throat.
Eve’s jaw dropped. Not Trace. He’d never killed so coldly. Never attacked a human like that. “Trace?”
But he wasn’t looking back at her. He was running away from the fire. Racing from the room and leaving her behind.
The flames continued to sputter.
Cain turned to face her. “He’s dead.”
She shook her head. “No, he’s just—” Broken. Eve swallowed. “Wyatt got to him. Experimented. We have to find out what he did so we can change Trace back.”
The words sounded hollow to her own ears. She knew, better than most, that people couldn’t always go back.
Cain tilted up her chin, and she saw his eyes narrow as he took in the bruises marring her throat. “I can see his fucking fingers and the claw marks.”
Eve caught his hands. “It wasn’t him.” Not really. Not the man she knew him to be, but it had been the beast he kept so carefully chained inside.
Cain twined his fingers with hers. “Stay with me.” The words were an order. “I won’t let anyone take another hit at you.”
She grabbed the gun with her left hand. She wouldn’t be caught off guard again. Eve climbed over the human’s dead body. Swallowing, she forced herself to bend down and close his eyes. No man should die with such terror stamped on his face. When Trace realized what he’d done . . .
Eve looked away from the blood. She stepped away from the body. Her heart hurt, but there was nothing she could do for the guy. And if they didn’t mo
ve, more guards would come.
Put one foot in front of the other. She followed Cain, feeling hollow inside. She ignored the pain in her throat and kept walking down the hallway.
When a guard rounded the corner and almost slammed right into Cain, he reacted instantly. One hit took the guard down. They kept walking. Climbing the stairs. Moving soundlessly as Cain tracked their prey.
When they reached the third floor, Eve heard a soft hissing. She frowned at that sound and glanced around.
“Gas,” Cain whispered.
Because, of course, nothing could be easy.
But then that low hissing stopped. Glass shattered.
Cain rushed forward, with Eve following right behind him. But Cain threw up his arm and stopped her before she could enter the room with the smashed door. “Wait, you can’t breathe the—”
But the gas—the familiar, faint white smoke—was dispersing. The windows in the room had been smashed and fresh air was sliding inside the office.
Wyatt’s office.
And Wyatt was the one who hung, with his hands and face bloody, half-out of the nearest window.
Cain leaped across the room and grabbed him.
Eve didn’t move. Her gaze swept around the area. Lingered on the pile of dead guards. Their heads hung, twisted the wrong way. Blood covered them. Such brutal kills.
Nausea rose in her, and Eve glanced away. Her gaze found the files scattered on Wyatt’s desk. There. That was what she needed. Proof. Data for her story, but more . . . maybe the answer to helping Trace was in those files.
She rushed forward. Started flipping through the pages. Tables. Charts. Her eyes scanned down the text. Read about the experiments. The drugs.
Vampire blood.
Evolution.
Rebirth.
Her breath heaved out. She grabbed the flash drive nearby and hooked it to Wyatt’s computer. Then she started scrolling through the files, copying as much as she could and—
“You can’t kill me.” Wyatt’s too-calm voice chilled Eve and had her glancing back over her shoulder.
Cain had yanked the guy away from the broken glass. There were slashes all over Wyatt’s face and arms, and what looked like bite marks on his neck.