Trace turned to look at Cain. Bared his fangs and rushed toward him.

No, he hadn’t wanted to kill him . . .

But it looks like I don’t have a choice.

“ In . . . jection . . .”

Eve frowned down at Wyatt. His chest was wheezing, his breath barely choking out. It looked like his body was trying to heal, but she wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to come back from . . . this.

The sight of his body had nausea rolling in her stomach. Even after all he’d done, she hated to see him suffering like this. She hated to see anyone suffer.

“Wasn’t . . . always . . .” Wyatt’s eyes squeezed closed. “Like . . . this . . .”

She heard screams from outside.

Wyatt’s breath whispered out. “They’re . . . free . . .”

Who was? The supernaturals he’d caged and then played God with?

“Father . . . changed . . . me . . .”

Eve had to lean close to hear his words. But she wasn’t stupid. She kept that gun pressed to his temple.

“Only . . . six. He made me . . .”

More burns and blisters faded. The savaged skin lightened.

She realized that Wyatt was part of the Genesis experiments, too. Another lab rat, one who’d been brought into the program by his own father.

“I hope that bastard’s rotting in a grave somewhere.” The words burst from her. To experiment on his own child? Talk about being a monster.

“He’s . . . not. Wants the world to think so . . . just pulling the damn strings . . .”

Eve’s blood iced.

Wyatt’s cracked lips formed a twisted smile. “Who do you . . . think . . . funded . . . Genesis?” Blood bubbled from his lips.

Eve frowned at him. His skin might be healing, but the guy sure seemed to be close to death.

“Need . . . injection!” His body shuddered. “Give it . . . to me . . .” He tried to point behind her, to his desk, but his hand fell back limply to the floor.

“I’m supposed to help you?” Eve asked, throat desert dry. But the truth was . . . hadn’t she already? She’d stopped Cain. “After everything you’ve done?”

Wyatt couldn’t talk any longer. It looked like he was having a seizure. Blood dripped from his lips. His eyes had rolled back into his head, and he shuddered, jerking convulsively.

“Dammit!” Eve jumped to her feet. “If I do this, you’d better tell me how to save Trace, got that? You’d better—”

She spun away and started searching through the desk drawers. Just paperwork in the top drawers. Files in the second. In the third . . .

Two syringes. One with a green label. One with a red. “Which one?” she demanded.

Eve swung back around and saw that Wyatt was on his feet. Not convulsing any longer. Not bleeding from the mouth.

An act. A very, very good one.

She dropped the syringes and lifted her gun. “Nice try, ass**le.”

A roar echoed through the room. Eve tensed. There were more screams. More yells.

“Sounds like Trace is here,” Wyatt said with a little nod. Was he weaving on his feet? Maybe he hadn’t been acting after all. “Now we’ll have a real bloodbath.”

“Is that what you want?” she demanded. “More death? For more people to suffer?”

He stared back at her.

“Weren’t you ever human?” Eve threw at him.

He shook his head. “That part of me died a long time ago . . . when a boy was tossed into a pit of vampires and left alone in the dark.”

He’d been tossed into that pit? The same way he’d dropped her and Cain into that hell? Her fingers wanted to tremble, but she tried to keep her grip steady on the gun. “Yeah, well, every part of you is about to die unless you tell me how to fix Trace.” Fire hadn’t worked—but it had sure come close to killing Wyatt. Another few minutes, and the guy would have been ash. The bullets had made him bleed when they’d hit his chest. He’d just healed too fast for the bullet wounds to slow him down. But maybe if she just aimed somewhere else, a more vulnerable spot . . .

Eve lifted the gun and aimed at his forehead. Wyatt tensed, and she saw the fear flash across his face. “Tell me how to fix him.”

More roars. Eve swallowed. “Tell me!”

“There is no fixing him. He’s only beast now. Not man. He knows only hunting and killing. There’s nothing more for him. To him. He’s a failed experiment.”

“So are you,” she whispered.

His body stiffened. “I’m not a failure. I’m the best experiment my father ever created.”