Fiery hot rage slipped over my eyes like a veil. Launching myself forward, I tackled him like an NFL linebacker on speed. We went down in a mess of tangled legs and arms. I landed on top of him, swinging my arm back and bringing it down repeatedly. I wasn’t really seeing where I was hitting, only feeling the flare of pain across my knuckles as they connected with flesh.

Blake shoved his arms between mine and swept them out, knocking me off balance. I teetered for a second, and then he raised his hips and rolled. I slammed onto my back, knocking the air out of my lungs. I aimed for his face, hell-bent on clawing his eyes out.

He caught my wrists and pinned them above my head as he leaned down. A cut had opened under his left eye, and his cheek was starting to swell. A vicious amount of satisfaction rushed through me.

“Can I ask you a question?” Blake grinned, turning the flecks of green in his eyes brighter. “Did you ever tell Daemon that you kissed me? I bet you haven’t.”

Each breath I took I felt in every part of my body. My skin became hypersensitive to his weight and proximity. The power built inside, and the room seemed to be tinted in a brilliant sheen of white. Fury consumed me, riding every breath and latching onto every cell.

His grin spread. “Just like you never told him how we liked to cuddle—”

The power burst from me, and suddenly I was off the floor—we were off the floor—levitating several feet in the air. My hair streamed down behind me, and his hair fell forward into his eyes.

“Shit,” Blake whispered.

Flipping upward, I tore my wrists free from his grip and slammed my hands into his chest. Shock rippled across his pale face a second before he flew backward, crashing into the wall. The cement cracked, and a fissure spread out like a wicked spiderweb. The whole room seemed to shake with the impact as Blake’s head snapped back, and then he slumped forward. Part of me expected him to catch himself before he smacked into the floor, but he didn’t. He hit with a fleshy splat that knocked the anger right out of me.

As if I’d been held up by invisible strings that had now been cut, I landed on the balls of my feet and rocked forward a step.

“Blake?” I croaked out.

He didn’t move.

Oh no…

Arms shaking, I started to kneel down, but something dark and thick spread out from under his body. My gaze flicked up to the wall. A Blake-size imprint was clearly visible, a form reaching through at least three feet of cement.

Oh God, no…

Slowly, I looked down. Blood pooled out from under his motionless body and seeped across the gray cement floor, stretching toward my sneakers.

Stumbling back, I opened my mouth, but there was no sound. Blake didn’t move. He didn’t roll over with a groan. He didn’t move at all. And the visible skin on his hands and forearms was paling already, turning a ghastly shade of white that stood out with such stark contrast against the deep red of the blood.

Blake was dead.

Oh my God.

Time slowed and then sped up. If he was dead, then that meant the Luxen who had mutated him was, too, because that was how it worked. They were joined together, like Daemon and I, and if one died…the other died, too.

Blake had it coming in more ways than one. I’d even promised to kill him, but words…words were one thing. Actions were a totally different ballpark. And Blake, even with all the terrible things he’d done, was a product of circumstance. He was only goading me. He’d killed not really meaning to. He’d betrayed to save another.

Just like I did—and would.

My hand shook as I pressed it against my mouth. Everything I’d said to him came back in a rush. And in that tiny second when I’d caved to the fury—nothing in a span of millions—I had changed, become something I wasn’t sure I could ever come back from. My chest rose rapidly at the same time my lungs compressed painfully.

The intercom clicked on, the initial buzz startling me in the dead silence. Sergeant Dasher’s voice filled the room, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Blake’s lifeless form. “Perfect,” he said. “You’ve passed this stress test.”

It was too much—ending up here, so far away from my mom and Daemon and everything that I knew, then the exam and the subsequent showdowns with the hybrids. And now this? It was too much.

Letting my head fall back, I opened my mouth to scream, but there was no sound. Nothing as Archer entered and gently placed his hand on my shoulder, steering me out of the room. Dasher said something, sounding very much like an approving father, and then I was taken out of the training room and into an office, where Dr. Roth waited to take more blood. They brought in a female Luxen to heal me. Minutes turned into hours, and still, I said nothing and felt nothing.

Daemon

Being handcuffed with metal coated in onyx, blindfolded for five hours, and then put on some flight wasn’t my idea of a fun time. I guess they were afraid that I’d bring the plane down, which was stupid. It was getting me to where I wanted to go. I didn’t know the location, but I knew it had to be where they were keeping Kat.

And if she wasn’t there, I was going to go postal.

Once the plane landed, I was hustled to a waiting car. From underneath the blindfold, I could make out bright light, and the smell was really dry and acidic, vaguely familiar. The desert? It hit me during the two-hour drive that I was going back to the place I’d last been to damn near thirteen years ago.

Area 51.

I smirked. Keeping me blindfolded was pointless. I knew where we were. All Luxen, once discovered, were processed through the remote detachment of Edwards Air Force Base. I’d been young, but I’d never forget the dryness to the air or the remote, barren landscape of Groom Lake.




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