Once Bitten, Twice Burned

“I’ll give you a flash of fire,” Sabine promised, knotting her hands into fists.

The woman jumped back a good two feet. Her shoulders brushed the cell door. The guards lifted their weapons.

Sabine had been playing with fire lately. Conjuring it from nothing. Letting balls of flame roll in her hands. The practice helped to pass the time.

Now, deliberately, she let the fire rise from her palm. The ball hovered over her hand. “Look what little trick I learned.”

Though they already knew this. They’d been watching her through their cameras and their two-way mirrors.

“Do you want your brother to die?”

Sabine forced a shrug. “Maybe he’ll just come back.” She even managed a smile. “Like me.”

One perfectly arched red eyebrow rose. “Since you were adopted and he isn’t your blood brother, I find that highly doubtful.” She gave Sabine a wide smile. “But let’s go see.” She turned to face the door.

“No!” The word broke from Sabine, and the redhead looked back, all Cheshire-cat satisfied.

Damn her. “Why are you doing this?” Sabine demanded. “I’m a person. I have rights!”

“You’re a weapon. And you’re about to be used.”

Very, very cold bitch.

“Your target is a man named Cain O’Connor. He’ll most likely be with a woman—Eve Bradley.” The redhead held up her clipboard. There was a manila file on that board. The lady pulled it free, then tossed the file near Sabine’s feet. “You can find their pictures in here. Look at them. Memorize them, then go and find those two.”

Sabine didn’t look down at the file. “And if I do, you’ll let my brother go?”

The redhead nodded.

Sabine heard the shrill cry of an alarm. The woman was right—it sounded like the second Genesis facility had been breached.

“Kill O’Connor. Leave the woman alive.”

Sabine rolled her shoulders. “Then you leave me and my family alone?” Not that Sabine could trust her but . . .

“I give you my word.”

What choice did she have?

Sabine let her fire die. Wisps of smoke floated above her hand. Slowly, she walked toward the woman. “Who are you?” she asked. The redhead with the upper-crust New York accent, one that spoke of old money, had never told Sabine her name.

“Doesn’t matter.” The redhead licked her lips. Her body had tensed at the alarm’s cry.

To Sabine, the woman’s identity mattered very much. A scientist, a doctor, a sadistic torturer. She was going to track this woman.

Sabine stared at her a moment longer, then she bent to pick up the file. She opened it, and her gaze fell to the photos inside. The male—Cain O’Connor—had gold skin, dark eyes, and hair that was almost black. He stared back up at her with an undeniable fury.

Yes, she could relate to that particular rage.

The woman’s picture showed sparkling blue eyes. Smooth skin. Dark hair. She was wearing a lab coat, just like the one the redhead had on.

Was Genesis killing its own now? Hardly surprising.

The alarm seemed to shriek even louder.

“He’ll be going for Wyatt’s office. You’ll find him on the third floor.” The redhead was backing out of the room. The guards were starting to sweat now, too.

There was fear in all of their eyes.

Sabine could hear screams coming from a distance. Screams. Yells. Growls?

“If Wyatt dies, if you don’t stop O’Connor . . .” The redhead stopped and glared at Sabine. “I’ll know, and I’ll make sure that a bullet finds its way into your brother’s head.”

Then she was gone, running away with her guards flanking her sides. Sabine’s cell door was left wide open. The alarm continued to shriek.

She looked down at the pictures once more. Was this what she’d become? A killer for Genesis?

She’d had a normal life once.

She’d been a photographer. She’d taken so many pictures, mostly all in her beautiful New Orleans. She’d shown her work at galleries. Set up a website and even been able to make a fairly decent living doing what she loved. She hadn’t gotten rich, but she’d gotten by.

She’d had a home. Friends. Family.

Rhett. No, Rhett wasn’t her blood brother. But what did blood matter? When she’d broken her leg at six, he’d been there, holding her hand, talking to her, until the cast was set. When she hadn’t made cheerleader at thirteen, he’d been there. Telling her that she was better off. That she was too good for the team and that the cheer captain had just been jealous of her skills.