A leash that they obviously lengthened when they weren’t getting ready to shoot him. Interesting. She figured the chain must be able to lengthen or shorten from its feed in the wall. Eve exhaled slowly and tried to calm her heartbeat. No dice. “Wyatt is planning to . . . to drown you tomorrow.” Just saying the words had her stomach clenching.

He grunted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Uh, okay. “How about I’m damn good at picking locks?” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her penlight. She flashed it on, and the light hit his chest. A bare chest. Rippling with muscles. Whoever—whatever—Thirteen was, the guy was seriously built.

She lowered the light to the chain that connected to his right wrist. “I can get you out of those.”

Silence.

“Don’t you want to get out?” Eve pressed because it wasn’t exactly the reaction she’d been expecting. “Or am I wrong? You said you didn’t volunteer—”

“I was sold into the program.”

That gave her pause. “Sold? What do you—”

“A soon-to-be-dead shifter named Jimmy Vance is making deals with Wyatt. Setting up paranormals for the bastard to collect and cashing in when we get caged.”

Her heart raced faster. “You’re saying there are others who aren’t here voluntarily, too?” That was what she’d suspected—why she’d risked so much to get inside Genesis.

“I’m saying the real experiments, the ones that Wyatt won’t let the world see . . . they’re all performed on those of us who are being kept prisoners.” He yanked on the chains and the metal groaned. “Tell me, do I really look like I’m here f**king voluntarily?”

“You’re so strong . . .” She wasn’t just talking about the he-man muscles. That fire-light show had been impressive. “Why can’t you just break out?”

“Fireproof.” He growled the words. “The walls are reinforced with steel and titanium and some damn other mix he created, and Wyatt made sure my own private hell could withstand any heat I sent at it.”

From what she’d seen, he could send plenty of heat.

She inched toward him and eased her lock-picking set from her pocket. Eve knew how to be prepared—though she’d never been a Girl Scout. More of a juvenile delinquent. “I want your promise that you won’t hurt me.” This was a risk, she knew that. Trusting him could be insanity.

But I’m not going to let Wyatt drown the guy. No way. They were getting out now, long before Wyatt had a chance to hurt this man again.

Thirteen’s hand reached for her. She almost flinched away. Almost.

But Eve had learned it was best to face the monsters in the dark with a brave face. She wasn’t new to the monster world. Sure, most folks had been shocked ten years ago when the first vamps appeared, but she hadn’t been surprised. She’d known about monsters since before she could even walk.

His fingers weren’t rough against her skin. Eve had expected them to be. The gentleness made her feel. . . strange. He touched her cheek. Her lips. “Would you trust what I say?” he asked, voice quiet.

Did she have much choice? “Tell me your name,” she breathed the words against his hand.

Her light cast darker shadows on his face. “Cain.” He touched her lips again, then pulled his hand back. “Cain O’Connor.”

I’m hungry. Why, oh, why, did she have to remember those particular words right then?

Her heart double-timed inside her chest. “Cain, I think we have to trust each other here.” She dropped to her knees beside him and shined the light on the links of metal that circled his wrists. There was a locking mechanism there. Her fingers brushed over the soft fabric of his jogging pants. Well, at least the guy wasn’t naked anymore.

But he’d sure stiffened at her touch.

“It will only take a few moments,” Eve told him as she began to position her tools. “It will—”

“We don’t have a few moments.”

That was the only warning she got. In the next instant, the lights flooded on in Cain’s room. He grabbed her, yanked her to her feet, and put her body right in front of his as they faced the two-way mirror.

“Dr. Bradley . . .” Wyatt’s drawling voice floated to them. “I don’t remember giving you permission to visit Subject Thirteen tonight.”

Shit, shit, shit.

And, um, why was Cain’s hand around her throat again? “I-I was worried about him.” True. “After what happened . . .” She let the words trail off and tried to look suitably pitiful and lost. Not overly hard at that exact moment. “I just wanted to . . . check on him.”