Just as the guard fired.
The bullet drove right into Cain’s side. Tore through flesh and muscle. Blood spattered. Agony had his body shuddering.
But he didn’t make a sound. That was a pleasure he wouldn’t give the sadistic bastard watching.
“Silver bullets can pierce the subject’s flesh,” Wyatt’s cool voice rattled off as if the guy were talking about the weather.
Cain’s hands clenched into fists. The next shot would be to a vital organ. He knew the drill. Wyatt liked to play at first. Torturing SOB—
“Stop!”
Cain glanced up. Eve was pounding on the glass. The mirror was shaking beneath the force of her fists. “Guard, get away from him!” she yelled, the desperate words echoing through the intercom system. “Drop the weapon!”
Not like the others.
Wyatt grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back. Anger pulsed in Cain’s blood. The doctor shouldn’t be touching her.
“Proceed.” Wyatt’s order.
Eve shrieked and twisted in Wyatt’s arms.
Cain saw her break away from the doctor. She ran for the cell door. Yanked it open.
“Proceed.” Ah, now Wyatt sounded pissed.
Eve was rushing inside. “Get away from him!” she yelled at the guard. “Drop your weapon and just—”
The guard fired.
The bullet drove right into Cain’s heart. He heard the thud as it tunneled into his flesh. Felt the sharp tear as it ripped through his heart. One instant of time. Two.
His gaze met Eve’s. Her eyes—so blue—widened and her lips parted in a scream he didn’t hear.
Too late. Cain was already dead.
Blood bloomed on Thirteen’s chest. The bullet had blasted right into him—straight into his heart.
Eve ran toward him, ignoring the gun that the guard was slowly lowering. Fucking killer. Shooting a chained man. Yeah, that was fair.
Thirteen’s legs had given way, but the chains had stopped him from crashing onto the floor. His head sagged forward, hanging limply.
Her hands slid under his jaw, and she tilted his head back. Oh, damn. His eyes were closed, his lashes casting heavy shadows on his cheeks. Her breath whispered over him. “I’m sorry.” She should have moved faster. Knocked out the guard. Done something to save this man.
Instead, she’d just watched him die.
“You need to step away from the test subject, Dr. Bradley,” Wyatt said, his voice not on the intercom, but coming from behind her.
Eve stiffened. “You just murdered a man in cold blood.” She’d never expected to discover this. Experiments were one thing. Murder was a whole damn other sin.
One that wouldn’t be forgiven.
Her fingers brushed lightly through Thirteen’s hair. She’d said she would help him.
“He’s not a man.” Wyatt sounded amused. “You know that. No humans are test subjects in this facility. Genesis only recruits paranormals.”
Fury had her shaking. “Human or supernatural … you killed him.” She glanced back at Wyatt and the guard. Both were standing a good ten feet away from her.
Wyatt shrugged. “It’s part of the experiment.”
What?
He huffed out a frustrated breath. “You really should step away. If you don’t, well, I’m sorry, but I can’t guarantee your safety.”
Insane. The doc was a mental case, and as soon as she got out of this joint, she’d blast her story loud and proud to every media outlet in the country. She’d shut down this hellhole if it was the last thing she ever did.
Sure, some folks were hesitant about the supernaturals, but no one was going to accept a killing facility. No one would—
Thirteen moved, just a bit, beneath her touch.
“Step back, Doctor Bradley.”
Was that fear in Wyatt’s voice? Eve couldn’t tell, and since she wasn’t looking at him, there was no way to read the emotion that might be on his face. Her attention was on Thirteen because … she could’ve sworn that she’d just felt him take a breath.
Impossible.
Sure, vampires could survive an assortment of attacks, but this guy was no vampire. Eve would bet her life on that. She’d seen him die. It was—
His lashes lifted. His eyes locked on her. Only his eyes weren’t black anymore. They were red, burning like flames. Burning so bright—burning, burning …
Hard hands yanked Eve back. She fell onto the floor, dragging Wyatt and the guard down with her. Their hands were on her. They were the ones pulling her away from Thirteen.
But almost instantly, Wyatt and Mitchell were back on their feet, and hauling her across the room with them.
Eve let them drag her away, but she couldn’t take her gaze off Thirteen. Smoke was rising from his flesh, as if he were burning from the inside. That gaze—it looked like she was staring straight into hell. A man’s eyes shouldn’t flicker with fire.
His did.
The smoke rising from his body began to thicken.
“Out!” Wyatt’s bark. The guard grabbed one of her hands. Wyatt grabbed the other. They all stumbled out into the hallway. Wyatt closed the door and quickly punched in a security code to lock the room down.
Eve memorized that code. Because what locked a man in … might just be able to let him out.
Then they all were racing back to that two-way mirror. Because it wasn’t just smoke rising from Thirteen’s body any longer. Flames were covering him.
“Oh, my God.” The stunned whisper slipped from her.
Thirteen’s head turned. Through the flames, he gazed at her.
Every muscle in her body tightened with pure terror. She’d never seen anything like this before. How? How could he be standing? He was standing now. Not on his knees any longer. Not hanging from the chains. Standing.
The flames slowly died. They’d melted his clothes away. Ash drifted around him. Thirteen stood there, naked, strong, his body absolutely perfect.
No sign of the bullet wound that had ended his life.
Only … his life hadn’t really ended, and he was still watching her.
“W-what is he?” Eve managed to ask.
Thirteen pulled on the chains that still bound him. Chains that had to be impervious to fire.
“I don’t know …” Wyatt told her, and there was no missing the excitement that hummed in his words, “but I’m going to find out.”
Thirteen’s gaze cut to the doctor.
He sees us. She didn’t know how, but the man who should have been dead could see right through that protective glass.
“Another successful experiment.” Wyatt turned away from the observation mirror and headed toward the corridor that lead back to his office. “Tomorrow, we’ll try drowning. It will be interesting to see if the test subject’s flames burn through the water …”
Eve didn’t move. She couldn’t.
Tomorrow, we’ll try drowning.
Dr. Richard Wyatt was some kind of seriously messed-up Frankenstein scientist. She put her hand to the glass. She didn’t know what Thirteen was, but she couldn’t let Wyatt keep torturing him.
“I’ll stop him,” she whispered.
But Thirteen shook his head. Then he mouthed two simple words: I will.
Richard Wyatt glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Eve put her hand to the glass—as if she were trying to touch the test subject. She should have been terrified, desperate to get away after what she’d just witnessed.
The others had been.
But, no, she was still there, staring in fascination at Subject Thirteen. Just as the subject was staring back at her.