The blade trembled and definitely nicked her skin.

Since she had the guard’s attention, she kept pressing. “When he rises, he’s all animal instinct, and his main instinct is to kill.” Her gaze swept the back of that truck. The flames were starting to crackle. They did not have much time. “Why do you think that Jon isn’t back here with us? He knows we’ll all die here.”

“No, no, ma’am. He said—he said as long as we had you—”

The guy needs to listen! “Dante won’t know me! He’ll kill me!”

The man’s eyes got glassy.

Cassie’s heartbeat froze. Wait. She pitched her voice low, trying to use that soothing tone that had worked with Trace. A siren’s power? Hell, it was worth a shot. “Put down your knife.”

Dante had said that she made him remember his past, that she’d soothed Trace. Maybe she was getting better at channeling her power.

She was definitely feeling stressed, so if she could use a siren’s suggestion on him . . .

“Put down the knife.”

He lowered the knife.

Her breath rushed out. And she counted—four guards. There were four other guards with them.

“Go to the back of the truck and open the door,” Cassie ordered the guy.

The man stood up immediately. Headed to the back of the jostling truck.

It’s working. She sucked in a couple more of those deep breaths. The breaths were starting to taste of smoke.

And the guy was trying to open the back door. It was insane. It was working.

Dante had been right about her.

Now, if she could just save them.

But as the guy hurried to obey her instructions, the others all whirled to face her. Crap. Could she control so many at once?

Cassie had no clue. Let’s find out.

“Pick him up.” She fought to keep her voice low and soothing when she wanted to shout.

At first, no one moved.

Then the guy shoved open the back doors, just as flames licked around Dante’s legs.

“Pick him up.”

If his fire started in the truck—with the gasoline in the vehicle’s tank, hell, they could all explode.

The remaining guards moved as one and picked up Dante. Cassie hurried toward the open doors. The dark road stretched behind them. The fire burned hotter. The men—even in their suits—wouldn’t be able to hold him for long.

She hated to do it, but there wasn’t a lot of choice. “Throw him out.”

Dante would recover.

He would—

They threw him.

She saw the flames when he hit the road.

Then she braced herself because she had to jump, too. There was no way she could stay in that death truck and let Jon take her wherever the hell he wanted.

She knew it was Jon taking her. Even as she’d fallen to the floor, her body heavy with numbness, she’d heard his voice.

Dante was right about him. It looked like the only way to stop him was to kill him.

Her fingers curled around the edge of the vehicle.

The only way to stop him . . .

If she jumped, Jon would come and find her.

He’d keep searching for her and Dante.

Maybe it was time to end all the hunting. Cassie knew Jon had forced Keith to help him. She remembered what Keith had said. He has my son!

Was that true? Was it even possible that Vaughn was still alive?

If she stayed in that rig, she’d find out, and possibly get to Vaughn. She’d definitely get an up close and personal audience with Jon.

Then I’ll see just how well my voice works on him. She had a weapon that Jon didn’t know about. One that he couldn’t fight.

Finally, the advantage would be hers.

Behind that truck, the flames were growing brighter in the darkness.

“Good-bye, Dante,” she whispered. When this was over, when she’d finished her battle, and stopped the experiments, she’d go to him.

But Genesis—her father—had made one more monster that she had to slay first.

I hope you’re ready for me, Jon. Because she was ready for him.

“Close the doors,” Cassie said.

The fire burned. Consumed. Dante’s hands pushed against pavement—rough, hard—and he climbed to his feet.

The darkness was around him.

Her scent . . . faint, fading . . . drifted in the wind.

The fire kept burning.

Her.

He could see a ghost of her image in his mind, but he couldn’t call up her name.

Her scent was so faint.

He took a step forward. She smelled of sin and sweetness. Not fire. He was tired of the smell of ash.