The woman cleared her throat. “Actually, that might make things easier,” the redhead murmured, but she still made a point of getting closer to the guards. The woman slanted a quick glance at the guard on her right. “We still have the tail on her brother, right?”
My brother. Sabine fought to control her expression. They were looking for a weakness. She wouldn’t give Genesis one.
But the crazy bitch was still talking. “Make sure our watcher knows that if Sabine doesn’t complete this task, a bullet should be put in Rhett’s head.”
Fire burned in her gut. Heating and churning and boiling as fury and fear clawed at her.
“Now that got your attention, didn’t it?” the woman said, sounding satisfied. “I saw the flash of fire in your eyes.”
“I’ll give you a flash of fire,” Sabine promised, knotting her hands into fists.
The woman jumped back a good two feet. Her shoulders brushed the cell door. The guards lifted their weapons.
Sabine had been playing with fire lately. Conjuring it from nothing. Letting balls of flame roll in her hands. The practice helped to pass the time.
Now, deliberately, she let the fire rise from her palm. The ball hovered over her hand. “Look what little trick I learned.”
Though they already knew this. They’d been watching her through their cameras and their two-way mirrors.
“Do you want your brother to die?”
Sabine forced a shrug. “Maybe he’ll just come back.” She even managed a smile. “Like me.”
One perfectly arched red eyebrow rose. “Since you were adopted and he isn’t your blood brother, I find that highly doubtful.” She gave Sabine a wide smile. “But let’s go see.” She turned to face the door.
“No!” The word broke from Sabine, and the redhead looked back, all Cheshire-cat satisfied.
Damn her. “Why are you doing this?” Sabine demanded. “I’m a person. I have rights!”
“You’re a weapon. And you’re about to be used.”
Very, very cold bitch.
“Your target is a man named Cain O’Connor. He’ll most likely be with a woman—Eve Bradley.” The redhead held up her clipboard. There was a manila file on that board. The lady pulled it free, then tossed the file near Sabine’s feet. “You can find their pictures in here. Look at them. Memorize them, then go and find those two.”
Sabine didn’t look down at the file. “And if I do, you’ll let my brother go?”
The redhead nodded.
Sabine heard the shrill cry of an alarm. The woman was right—it sounded like the second Genesis facility had been breached.
“Kill O’Connor. Leave the woman alive.”
Sabine rolled her shoulders. “Then you leave me and my family alone?” Not that Sabine could trust her but . . .
“I give you my word.”
What choice did she have?
Sabine let her fire die. Wisps of smoke floated above her hand. Slowly, she walked toward the woman. “Who are you?” she asked. The redhead with the upper-crust New York accent, one that spoke of old money, had never told Sabine her name.
“Doesn’t matter.” The redhead licked her lips. Her body had tensed at the alarm’s cry.
To Sabine, the woman’s identity mattered very much. A scientist, a doctor, a sadistic torturer. She was going to track this woman.
Sabine stared at her a moment longer, then she bent to pick up the file. She opened it, and her gaze fell to the photos inside. The male—Cain O’Connor—had gold skin, dark eyes, and hair that was almost black. He stared back up at her with an undeniable fury.
Yes, she could relate to that particular rage.
The woman’s picture showed sparkling blue eyes. Smooth skin. Dark hair. She was wearing a lab coat, just like the one the redhead had on.
Was Genesis killing its own now? Hardly surprising.
The alarm seemed to shriek even louder.
“He’ll be going for Wyatt’s office. You’ll find him on the third floor.” The redhead was backing out of the room. The guards were starting to sweat now, too.
There was fear in all of their eyes.
Sabine could hear screams coming from a distance. Screams. Yells. Growls?
“If Wyatt dies, if you don’t stop O’Connor . . .” The redhead stopped and glared at Sabine. “I’ll know, and I’ll make sure that a bullet finds its way into your brother’s head.”
Then she was gone, running away with her guards flanking her sides. Sabine’s cell door was left wide open. The alarm continued to shriek.
She looked down at the pictures once more. Was this what she’d become? A killer for Genesis?
She’d had a normal life once.
She’d been a photographer. She’d taken so many pictures, mostly all in her beautiful New Orleans. She’d shown her work at galleries. Set up a website and even been able to make a fairly decent living doing what she loved. She hadn’t gotten rich, but she’d gotten by.
She’d had a home. Friends. Family.
Rhett. No, Rhett wasn’t her blood brother. But what did blood matter? When she’d broken her leg at six, he’d been there, holding her hand, talking to her, until the cast was set. When she hadn’t made cheerleader at thirteen, he’d been there. Telling her that she was better off. That she was too good for the team and that the cheer captain had just been jealous of her skills.
He’d been wrong, of course. She hadn’t made the team because she straight-up sucked and because, during the routine, she’d accidentally punched the captain, Kristi Martin, in the face.
At sixteen, he’d been there for her again. When her boyfriend had gotten drunk and a little too handsy—not respecting her first-base rule—Rhett had, well, he’d kicked Johnny’s ass.
He’d always been there for her.
I’ll make sure a bullet finds its way into your brother’s head.
Sabine’s breath whispered out. She knew that she would do whatever was necessary in order to protect Rhett.
Even if it meant letting her monster take control.
Even if it meant killing.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Fucking chaos. That was all he saw. Chaos. Screams and growls filled the air as Ryder fought his way through the second Genesis facility. Locating this place had been a real bitch, but he hadn’t given up. Sure, he’d betrayed some people. Killed others during his hunt for information. My hunt for Sabine.
But he’d gotten there. He’d found Wyatt’s hiding spot, and Sabine had to be there.
He’d make Wyatt reveal her location because Ryder was not leaving without her. From now on, Ryder planned to keep Sabine at his side.
Need her.
The hunger that he felt for her had only grown since he’d escaped from his prison at Genesis. Something was wrong with him. He was certain of it. Wyatt had done something to him. Ryder had taken the blood of others since first biting Sabine—drained plenty of ’em—but no matter how much blood he took, it didn’t satisfy him. There was always a hunger inside of him. A craving for her.
He rushed down the hallway, stopping outside the door he knew would lead to Wyatt’s office. He could smell the bastard inside. Ryder also knew that a trap waited for him behind that door—I can smell your guards, too, Wyatt—but he didn’t care. They were all about to see just how strong he was.
But Ryder didn’t kick his way inside the room. Why waste the energy on a fancy entrance? He opened the door quietly, slowly. He’d take his time and see just what Wyatt had planned.
The floor creaked beneath his feet as he entered the room. Wyatt had his back to him. The guy was leaning over his desk. Oh, but it would feel good to rip open the jerk’s throat.