Cain headed left, but Eve’s light touch on his arm stopped him.

“I didn’t come back to kill Wyatt,” she said.

That sure was the reason he’d come back to this hell. He glanced at her and saw the tension and worry etched onto her lovely face.

“I came back for Trace.”

Shit. Cain’s body tensed. The werewolf was dead. Cain remembered seeing him get shot. Not once, but over and over. No way would Trace be coming back.

Eve saw the thoughts in his eyes. Her lips firmed and she shook her head. “No. Trace is strong. If anyone could survive, it would be him.”

Cain heard footsteps approaching. He stepped into the shadows, pressing his back to the wall. Eve mirrored his movements perfectly.

The footsteps grew closer. Closer . . .

Cain grabbed the guard, wrapping his fingers around the man’s neck and jerking him into the air. The human never even had the chance to scream.

Cain tightened his hold.

“Stop.” Eve’s whisper.

Teeth clenching, he did, but he didn’t let the guard go.

Eve leaned toward the terrified human. “The werewolf that was brought in earlier . . . where is he?”

Cain eased his hold, just enough to let a whisper slip from the man’s throat. “How . . . the . . . f**k . . . should I . . . know?”

The human thought he could play tough. He thought wrong.

Still keeping one arm around the fool’s throat, Cain grabbed the man’s left hand—and broke it.

The color bleached from the guard’s face.

“Try again,” Cain urged.

“D-dead . . .”

It was the answer that he’d expected. A werewolf wasn’t built to survive that kind of silver impact.

“F-failed . . . experiment . . .”

Ah, now wasn’t the guard turning into a talker.

“Where’s his body?” Eve demanded and Cain realized that she had a gun shoved into the man’s side. He knew that she’d taken that weapon from the hands of a fallen guard back near the lake. The woman liked to be armed. Cain could respect that.

“Furnace room . . . gonna . . . burn him . . .”

Eve stabbed her gun harder into the human’s side. “Tell me where to find that room.”

“Go . . . left . . . all the way . . .” He tried to point with his broken hand.

Someone was being useful. “And Wyatt?” Cain wanted to know as he flipped the guy around to face him. “Where is he?”

The guard stared at Cain. Yeah, that was fear blazing in the man’s eyes. Cain knew that look well.

“His office . . .” the guy muttered. “Basement, sub-level one . . .”

Definitely useful info. Cain slammed the guy’s head back into the wall.

Now someone was unconscious.

Cain had caught sight of an elevator on his first trip into the fun house. He shoved the guard’s body into the corner then turned right, heading for that elevator.

He’d taken two steps when he realized Eve wasn’t coming with him. He froze. They only had so much time. . . .

Cain glanced back at her.

“I have to see him for myself.” Eve’s chin lifted. “I’m not leaving until I make sure that Trace is dead.”

Morbid. And a pain that she didn’t have to experience. “They’ve probably already burned his body.”

She flinched. But Eve turned away, heading back down the hallway that would take her to the furnace room.

Guessing Wyatt burned plenty of bodies in there.

Cain looked back at the elevator. This was his chance. He’d slipped in, and now he could get to Wyatt. The bastard still thought he was buried under all those rocks.

The perfect opportunity . . . Cain stalked toward the elevator.

This was what he’d wanted. What he’d fought for. Vengeance. Wyatt deserved every minute of torment that he was about to get.

Cain’s fingers lifted toward the elevator button. He heard Eve’s footsteps slip away.

Eve kept her back pressed to the wall as she eased down the steps and headed toward the furnace room. Just the name of that place had her stomach tightening. Trace didn’t deserve this end.

My fault. He’d been trying to help her, and he’d wound up here. How the hell was that fair?

She wasn’t going to leave him there, even if all she could do was drag his body away from this hellhole. Trace had been her friend. She wouldn’t just leave him without a backward glance.

Two guards headed toward her. Even though she had a weapon, Eve didn’t leap forward and fight them. Stealth and surprise were her tools, and if she could avoid some bloodshed, then yes, please, that was what she’d like to do. She hunched into the shadows and didn’t make so much as a sound.