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.
Wyatt leaned forward a bit more and his hand slid under the edge of the desk. In the next second, the door to the office slid closed, sealing them inside. Then Wyatt spun toward him. The guy had some kind of gas mask on, and Wyatt sneered, “Your mistake, phoenix—”
Ryder rushed toward him. I’m not a phoenix, asshole. And you’re dead.
Shock widened Wyatt’s eyes. “Wh-what—”
Gas drifted from the small vents in the ceiling. Ryder glanced up at that smoky gas. Right, that would explain the mask. Since Wyatt had obviously been expecting someone else to come busting through his office door, the guy had set the wrong trap. The gas didn’t have any effect on Ryder. That horrifying knowledge was bright in Wyatt’s gaze.
Before Ryder could grab Wyatt and sink his fangs into the jerk’s flesh, a narrow door to the right slid open. Five guards rushed out, their weapons clutched tightly. They also wore the masks, as if that would keep them safe.