The thuds were louder than they’d been when she’d used her fists, but the door didn’t open.

“Help!” Cassie screamed. This can’t be happening. I can’t actually be trapped like this.

Eve was her friend. Cain had been nothing but good to her.

And Dante . . .

The two phoenixes couldn’t battle. When they did, only one survived.

“Help!” Cassie screamed again.

She was very much afraid that no one was coming to her aid.

“Help!”

The cry reached Trace’s ears and his beast tensed. He knew he was more beast than man. He knew that his control was gone, and . . . some days, he almost wished for death.

Almost?

The cry pierced through the rage his beast carried, reaching the man inside. There was something about that voice. Something that spoke to the beast and the man.

Cassie.

Her image appeared in his mind. Her dark hair. Her soft hands. She’d never hurt him. Always promised to help. And when she whispered to him, things did seem better. The rage cooled within him.

But something was wrong.

He opened his mouth and howled.

Cassie shouldn’t be crying for help. Cassie couldn’t be hurt. She was his last hope.

He howled again and jerked at the chains that bound him. The silver burned, cutting deep into him, but he didn’t care.

Help her.

The beast snarled and his muscles burned. He pulled and pulled . . . and the chains began to snap.

Dante wasn’t going to bring the battle down to Cassie. She would be safe in the little underground lair that she’d made for herself.

Silently, he rode the elevator up to the ground level. The other phoenix would not know that he was coming. His guard would be lowered.

The better for me to attack.

Cassie had been calling for help when he’d left her. Her cries had twisted his guts, but he hadn’t stopped. He remembered, too well, what it was like when another phoenix came for you.

Brother . . . why? I meant you no harm.

But his brother had just laughed. As long as you live, you’re a threat. Didn’t you learn anything from the others?

Once, there had been a dozen phoenixes in their village. They’d been the power . . . until they turned on one another.

The fire led to bloodlust. Fury. The need to dominate and control.

For days, their village had been turned black with ash.

Others—humans down the mountainside—had started to spread rumors of dragons attacking.

There had been no dragons.

Dante stared down at his hands. Saw fire.

Only us.

He hadn’t wanted to kill his brother. Wren had given him no choice. Dante had been burning. Wren and his siren had come at him as he rose, come for his head and his heart.

They’d almost taken his head.

But his phoenix hadn’t been ready for death.

The phoenix who stands last is the only one with power. Wren’s panting words to him. I will stand last. I will have the power. You, brother, will have hell.

Dante squared his shoulders. The elevator doors opened. Cain had his back to him—such a mistake. He saw the man’s dark hair, a shade very similar to Dante’s own.

Cain spun toward him.

His eyes widened. “You’re not—where’s Cassie?” He grabbed the woman with him and shoved her behind his back.

Dante’s nostrils flared. The woman’s scent . . . speaking of dragons. He hadn’t caught that particular scent in centuries. Those two were even more of a threat than he’d first thought.

Dante stepped forward. The elevator closed behind him. His gaze slid to the woman as she peered over her man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Dante told her. “I didn’t want to kill you.” He shook his head. “Leave now, and I will spare you.” Even though he knew what she was.

“Who are you?” the woman whispered.

Dante lifted his hands. The fire was burning so brightly now. Spinning. Flaming. “I’m death.”

Cain gave a rough laugh. “Am I supposed to be impressed by that shit? I can conjure, too.” In an instant, he had fire flaring in his own hands.

Dante smiled. He hadn’t expected much of a challenge from this one. He’d been wrong. “What have you had? Maybe fifty risings? And probably all during your captivity at Genesis.”

Cain’s dark eyes narrowed—his eyes look like mine—as he glared at Dante. “Did Cassie tell you about me?”

“I can smell the risings. Hell leaves its own stamp on us.”

“That why I can smell brimstone on you?”