And he’d vowed to himself... once he realized just how important she was . . . that he would never let her go.
If Cassie had been lying to him, if she’d been part of his torture, she would pay.
But she would not get away from him.
The fire came to him, consuming, burning, destroying. The white-hot flames burned from the inside out, and as he died, Jon saw hell.
Monsters were there. Beasts made of flame who struck out at him. Hitting and slicing. He tried to fight—
Only to find that the flames surrounded him. Suffocated him.
He tried to open his mouth to scream.
But had no voice.
Only flames.
So many flames.
Rising and rising . . . burning . . . but not destroying. Not anymore.
Creating.
“Lieutenant Colonel!” A woman’s voice. Shouting. Shocked.
His eyes opened. At first, everything seemed tinted by red. By the fire.
He blinked, trying to clear his vision.
“What have you done?” the woman whispered. “Y-you were dead . . .”
He was standing, his body naked, a circle of flame around him.
He looked past the flames and saw a woman standing there. A woman with disheveled blond hair. Fear covered the delicate curves of her face. “You’re like him,” she said as she stumbled back a step.
Jon could only stare at her.
“The injection. What were you putting into your veins?” He lifted his hand.
“Do you . . .” She took another quick step back. “Do you even know who I am?”
His skin was unmarred. No blisters. No burns. He glanced down at his chest.
No bullet hole.
“Yes,” he said, speaking slowly, “I do know who you are.”
Even more, he knew what he was. The serum that he’d taken—so many of those painful doses—had actually worked.
He’d become like Dante. Only . . . better.
When Dante rose, his memory was often gone.
“I remember everything,” Jon whispered. The flames were still around him. He waved his hands. More fire appeared.
Beautiful fire. Red and gold and orange.
He heard voices shouting in the distance. The fear in those voices carried in the wind.
“It’s your men. They were running—”
Running away, instead of trying to stop Dante? “Where is . . . Cassandra?”
“He took her.”
While my men had cowered.
He started walking toward the sound of those shouts.
“Lieutenant Colonel?”
The blonde . . . Dr. Shaw. He could still use her. “Stay back,” Jon ordered. Things were about to get hot. If he accidentally killed the doctor, well, that would be unfortunate.
She froze.
He swept by her and let his fire grow.
“What are you doing?” Her horrified question followed him.
He didn’t respond. He just let the fire loose. Let it race toward the old base.
As the fire grew, the flush of power filled him. He could feel . . . something . . . inside himself. Something different from the beast he’d carried since his first experiment at Genesis.
This new creature was clawing at him with fire. Struggling to get out.
“You want out?” Jon asked as he lifted his hands. “Let’s see what you can do.”
He stopped fighting the beast and let it take him. The flames leaped from him as he surrendered. The buildings caught fire, an inferno that lit up the sky. Booms burst in the air, screams echoed.
Those who’d run and left him to his fate . . . had their own fiery fate waiting for them. But they wouldn’t rise.
He’d make sure of it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cassie held onto Dante as tightly as she could. Her memory of escaping from Jon was hazy. In order to block the pain, she’d had to go far into her mind, into the shadows that she’d first found when she’d been a child.
When her father had strapped her to the table in his lab.
He hadn’t experimented on just the paranormals. He’d wanted to create stronger, better humans.
He’d planned for her and her brother to be the first “better” humans.
That hadn’t worked out. But their father hadn’t given up easily. He’d just ignored their screams and tears.
The motorcycle braked. She couldn’t see anything in front of her. Just the darkness.
As they’d driven, she’d smelled smoke, a heavy, thick blast of smoke that had followed them on the wind. It was gone now. It was just them. And darkness.
“No one’s here,” Dante said. “You can go inside and rest.” He turned off the bike.
Right. She was supposed to stop holding so tightly to him.
Her body still ached, but not as badly as it had. She climbed off the motorcycle slowly, then stood for a moment, making sure that she wasn’t about to fall on her face.
Dante reached out and steadied her. At his touch, her breath caught. She looked up and found his gaze just inches from hers. The gold in the depths of his eyes was burning once more.
“The place isn’t as nice as the one your friend Trace had for you, but it’s got a bed inside, four walls and a roof, so I figure it will do for now.”
Had she just imagined the emphasis he’d placed on friend? She wasn’t sure. She was so tired she just wanted to crash in bed—crash and not worry about someone coming at her with a needle or a scalpel.
But I did that. I was the monster with the needle, too. For so long.
Some would say she’d gotten her fitting punishment that night.
At least . . . at least the doctors had stopped before getting the bone marrow and the spinal tap. She rubbed her forehead. Or had they? Cassie wasn’t sure just how long she’d been in that lab.
“Come on.” Dante’s hand curled around her shoulder.
She flinched. That area was still sore.
He immediately dropped his hand before she could explain about the samples they’d taken.
Cassie knew she was healing, but she still ached.
His breath eased out on a sigh. “Let’s go in.”
She noticed that the front lock looked as if it had been melted. Interesting lock picking technique. She would have questioned him on that, but just didn’t have the energy.
A few moments later, Cassie realized that he’d told her the truth. A bed waited inside. An old table. Some chairs. Not much, but it sure looked like paradise to her.
She crawled in the bed, then she drew her legs up as she turned on her side, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Cassie?” He was behind her. She should look at him, but she felt . . . frozen.
She’d killed Jon.