“I’m . . . helping . . .” the woman said, sounding both angry and afraid. “Trying . . . to . . . help . . .”

She could help plenty by giving up her blood. Only he hesitated, not able to sink his fangs into her because in his mind, Ryder could see Sabine. Sabine had been so afraid the first time she’d come into his cell. “Need . . . you . . .” The words weren’t for the woman in his arms. He couldn’t bite her, a knowledge that pushed through his rage and hunger. He needed Sabine.

Only Sabine.

Before he could free the woman, hard hands grabbed him and yanked him away from her. His body flew through the air and thudded into the far wall.

“Too f**king bad,” a big, angry bastard snarled at him. “’Cause I saw her first.” The man’s dark eyes glittered with fury. And . . . fire?

Ryder’s attention was caught by those eyes. He’d only seen that circle of fire once before—in Sabine’s eyes. As he watched, the man with the burning eyes turned and offered the woman his hand. Huh. The guy must be her protector.

Except the woman didn’t take the offered hand. She glanced over at Ryder.

“You have to get out of here,” the bruiser with the burning eyes said to her.

Ryder rose. Took a step forward.

The guy tensed. His gaze cut to Ryder. “Touch her again,” the male snarled, “and I’ll turn you to dust.”

He’d like to see the guy try.

The woman still hadn’t taken the fellow’s offered hand. Ryder knew now that she wasn’t working with Wyatt. Whatever was happening—these two were on their own.

The dark-haired guy grabbed the woman’s wrist. He pulled her close. “Come on.” They turned for the door.

But the lady was hesitating. “There are others.” Her words reminded him of Sabine. She’d cared about the other prisoners, too. “They’re trapped,” the woman said, voice shaking, “and—”

An explosion shook the building, a blast that had cracks racing across the walls and ceilings.

Ryder tensed, then he heard screams. Screams that echoed and reverberated, seemingly calling out from all around him. Was Sabine screaming? He had to find her. Ryder rushed forward, shoving his way past the bruiser and his woman.

This time, no one would stop his escape. I’m coming for you, Sabine. A promise was a promise.

More explosions rocked the building and the screams rose.

Sabine stared up at the light above her. A small light, far too bright. At first, that light had hurt her eyes. In a room of darkness, it had been the only thing she’d seen. Her body was strapped down. No, chained down. Chained with a metal that could resist fire.

Because she’d burned before. More than once.

A whimper slipped from her lips. She knew her name because the voice that sometimes floated in the room—that voice called her Sabine. She didn’t know where she was. Why someone kept hurting her.

She just knew the fire.

She pulled at the metal bonds. They wouldn’t give. Her wrists were raw and bloody and she couldn’t get free.

There had to be more than this for her. Why couldn’t she remember? She’d had a life.

But it was gone. All she knew now were days and nights of fire and pain.

And the urge to destroy. To attack and kill . . . those urges grew stronger in her every moment.

Sabine jerked once more on the bonds. The coppery scent of her blood rose to fill her nose.

An image flashed in her mind. A man. Blond hair. Chiseled features. A faint smile tilting his lips. For some reason, when she saw that image, Sabine thought . . .

He likes blood.

She shivered. Her skin was cold. They wouldn’t give her clothes. The clothes just burned away. Everything burned.

Sabine heard the crackle of static drift in the air and knew the voice was going to come again.

“This time,” the voice announced—a female voice. One that was always flat and so cold, clipped with a hard accent—“this time we’ve been instructed to use gas on you. I’ve been assured that the process shouldn’t take long at all.”

The process. Sabine bit her lips. There was a hiss of sound and the air around her changed. Developed an acrid odor. The scent burned her nose.

Her throat.

A tear leaked down her cheek.

She held tight to the image of the blond man. It was the only image that had ever come to her.

He likes blood.

That knowledge should have scared her, but she was long past the point of terror. As she choked and shuddered, Sabine just thought . . .

Find me. Because somewhere deep inside, an instinctive knowledge told her that man was coming for her.