But Roberts wasn’t aiming the gun at Eve. He still had the barrel pointed at Jeremiah. “What?”
“There is no cure. Your sister’s rabid. Just like him.” A wave of Jeremiah’s hand toward Trace’s prone body. But Trace wasn’t exactly prone right then. He was trying to roll over. To crawl toward Wyatt.
“You said—you told me there was a serum! A drug she needed!” Roberts was shaking. The barrel of his gun trembled. “You told me to lure Eve here, to get her inside this warehouse, and you’d give me the cure!” His teeth snapped together. “Give me the damn cure!”
“I did.” Jeremiah’s voice was calm and easy. “Kill her. Cut off her head or burn her. That’s the only way you’ll ever free her. Once the wolves go rabid, they don’t come back.”
“You’re a sick freak,” Cain snapped.
Jeremiah’s gaze turned toward him. That green stare narrowed to slits of ice. “You killed my son. He was such a good experiment, and you killed him.”
“Richard Wyatt wasn’t an experiment!” Eve yelled at him. “He was a person. A twisted psycho of a person, but he wasn’t just an experiment!”
Jeremiah’s lips tightened. “We’re all experiments.”
The guy was deranged. No big shock. Not considering the way Richard had turned out. Like father . . .
Jeremiah’s lips relaxed. Eased into the twisted semblance of a smile. “I made Richard stronger. I made him better. When I started my work, the boy actually wanted me to stop. Told me I was hurting him.”
Thud.
The cane pounded onto the floor.
“There is no growth without pain. No life without suffering.” That faint smile was still on his lips when he pointed his finger at Cain. “You’re about to suffer.”
“Old man, I’m not scared of you.” Cain turned away from him. He reached for Eve, but she pulled back.
“Get Trace.” They’d take him to a hospital. He’d get help. Did Jeremiah really think he was the only one who worked in the field of shifter genetics? There were other experts out there. Others who didn’t torture and kill.
Maybe there wasn’t a cure yet. But there damn well could be one.
Cain hefted Trace over his shoulder.
Roberts hadn’t moved. “You son of a bitch,” he said to Jeremiah. “I risked my badge for you . . . I want my sister back!”
“That bitch is as good as dead.” The words were snarled, and before Eve could even blink, Jeremiah had lunged across the room. He opened his mouth—
And sank his teeth into the cop’s throat.
Vampire.
No wonder the man didn’t look ninety. He’d stopped aging. Maybe that had been him pictured in that coffin after all. Still and pale . . . a newly transformed vampire.
Eve grabbed Jeremiah’s arms and yanked him away from Roberts—even as Roberts fired his gun.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Two bullets blasted into Jeremiah’s chest.
One went right through his body and hit Eve.
A roar filled the building as Eve staggered back. She lifted her hand to her chest, and blood soaked her fingers.
Roberts stared at her with wide, shocked eyes. “I didn’t mean—”
She tried to nod. Managed to stagger back. Cain grabbed her. Wait. Where was Trace? Where—“Trace.”
“Screw Trace. I’m getting you out of here.” Cain’s gaze was burning, flickering with flames. He pulled her into his arms. “It’s all right, you’re going to be all right . . .”
“No, she’s not.” Jeremiah’s cold voice. He was still standing? “Because she’s not getting out of here alive.” He laughed, even as he swiped away the dripping blood on his chin. “I thought I’d slowly drain Ms. Bradley and kill her, make her suffer for what she did to my boy, but she’s already dead . . .”
No, she wasn’t. Eve wanted to scream at him, but she couldn’t talk.
“Only a few moments left, then that heart of hers will stop. That bullet—it killed her.”
“I’m so sorry . . .” The detective’s voice. Eve couldn’t see him.
Cain was running toward the door with her in his arms, but then he staggered to a stop.
“You aren’t leaving,” Jeremiah snarled. “Not yet.”
Eve forced her eyelids to stay open. Jeremiah had dropped his act. Ditched his cane, and moved with that super vampire speed. And . . . as she watched, he reached into his big overcoat and pulled out a small, black box.