This time, no one would stop his escape. I’m coming for you, Sabine. A promise was a promise.
More explosions rocked the building and the screams rose.
Sabine stared up at the light above her. A small light, far too bright. At first, that light had hurt her eyes. In a room of darkness, it had been the only thing she’d seen. Her body was strapped down. No, chained down. Chained with a metal that could resist fire.
Because she’d burned before. More than once.
A whimper slipped from her lips. She knew her name because the voice that sometimes floated in the room—that voice called her Sabine. She didn’t know where she was. Why someone kept hurting her.
She just knew the fire.
She pulled at the metal bonds. They wouldn’t give. Her wrists were raw and bloody and she couldn’t get free.
There had to be more than this for her. Why couldn’t she remember? She’d had a life.
But it was gone. All she knew now were days and nights of fire and pain.
And the urge to destroy. To attack and kill . . . those urges grew stronger in her every moment.
Sabine jerked once more on the bonds. The coppery scent of her blood rose to fill her nose.
An image flashed in her mind. A man. Blond hair. Chiseled features. A faint smile tilting his lips. For some reason, when she saw that image, Sabine thought . . .
He likes blood.
She shivered. Her skin was cold. They wouldn’t give her clothes. The clothes just burned away. Everything burned.
Sabine heard the crackle of static drift in the air and knew the voice was going to come again.
“This time,” the voice announced—a female voice. One that was always flat and so cold, clipped with a hard accent—“this time we’ve been instructed to use gas on you. I’ve been assured that the process shouldn’t take long at all.”
The process. Sabine bit her lips. There was a hiss of sound and the air around her changed. Developed an acrid odor. The scent burned her nose.
Her throat.
A tear leaked down her cheek.
She held tight to the image of the blond man. It was the only image that had ever come to her.
He likes blood.
That knowledge should have scared her, but she was long past the point of terror. As she choked and shuddered, Sabine just thought . . .
Find me. Because somewhere deep inside, an instinctive knowledge told her that man was coming for her.
Chaos. Fire. Hell. But . . .
No Sabine.
Ryder’s hands clenched as he watched Genesis burn. He’d taken blood—plenty of it—from the guards who were fleeing. But the blood tasted wrong to him. Sour.
Sabine.
The scream was in his head. She was the one he needed, but he couldn’t find her. Genesis—there was nothing left there. Everything would soon be ash.
It was the second lab that he needed. Wyatt had transferred Sabine there. Ryder just had to find the place.
But the guards he’d fed on, they hadn’t known about the second lab’s location. He’d ripped into their minds—they hadn’t known. The place was shrouded in secrecy and—
The big, dark bruiser from before was back. Ryder watched as the guy stalked right through the fire. The woman was in his arms.
The woman . . . she’d tried to help me.
In his rage before, he hadn’t thought she was truly there to free him. But she had been. Not there to torture and destroy, but to help.
So he owed her. For the moment. Ryder braced his legs and called out, “Let her go.”
The man’s head snapped up even as his hold on the woman tightened. “I knew letting you live was a mistake.” Disgust and rage were ripe in the man’s voice.
Ryder swiped away the blood that dripped down his chin. He’d gorged too much. So why am I still hungry? He bared his fangs as he advanced. “She . . . saved me.” Ryder managed to grit out the words. “I won’t let you hurt her.” Sabine wouldn’t want the woman hurt. The woman—she kept reminding him of Sabine.
The guy frowned and gazed down at the woman. She appeared dead to the world, but Ryder saw the soft rise and fall of her chest. Still alive, just unconscious. Unconscious and in the arms of a phoenix who’d just torched Genesis. She wasn’t exactly in a safe place.
Then the bruiser looked back up at Ryder, and fire burned in the man’s eyes. A fire just like Sabine’s. “I’m guessing you’re lucky number thirteen,” Ryder murmured.
The phoenix glared at Ryder and warned, “You don’t want to tangle with me.”
Actually, no, he didn’t. He wanted that phoenix to get far away from him, but the woman . . . “She’s human.” He gave a hard shake of his head. Then he lied and said, “I don’t know what the hell you are, and—”