Her gaze flew to him. Charles was shaking his head. “He’s not getting in. He’s not!”

Unfortunately for them, Cassie didn’t think that metal bar would be providing them with a whole lot of protection. When faced with a phoenix’s fire, the metal would melt.

Dante would get in.

One crisis at a time. She sucked in a deep breath and focused on Jamie once more. He wasn’t shaking anymore, and his blood pressure was slowly getting back within the normal range.

Hope began to whisper in her heart. Live.

Sweat coated his body as if a fever had just broken. She picked up his hands. Studied his nails. No claws. She opened his mouth. Regular teeth. No fangs.

She took some of his blood and rushed to her microscope. Eyes narrowing, Cassie stared down at the specimen.

His blood cells were—not normal, but . . .

Not primal.

The cells weren’t mutating into the primal form. In fact, they looked very similar to her own.

“Without the poison,” she whispered, prayed. If his blood was clear, if he could make antibodies for the virus that didn’t contain the poison of her blood, then they’d just found the cure.

She was the one shaking.

“Do—do you smell smoke?” Charles asked as he hurried away from the door.

Yes, she did. Had been smelling it ever since she’d left Dante in that elevator.

“Jamie?” Cassie whispered. “Jamie, can you open your eyes for me?”

His breath sighed out.

“I-I can’t see anything on the monitors outside,” Charles said. “The smoke and fire are too thick.”

“Jamie?” Cassie fought to keep her own voice calm. “I need you to open your eyes. Look at me.” She’d seen other primal transformations, and, by this point, the victims already had their fangs and claws. The treatment was working.

Jamie’s lashes flickered. When his lashes lifted, she saw that his gaze was blurry. Lost. “Am I . . . dead?”

She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. “No, you’re very much alive.” Tears stung her eyes.

He stiffened and tried to shove her away. “No, he bit me, I—”

Cassie didn’t let him go. “You’re the same. No fangs. No claws.”

He shuddered against her. She eased back just a bit and hurriedly got the straps off him so he could sit up. Jamie stared down at his hands with stunned eyes, and then he reached up to touch his teeth. “How . . .”

“You did it,” she told him, unable to stop smiling. “Your blood—mixed with mine—you made the cure.”

He shook his head.

“We can stop the spread of the virus.” And, maybe, with a little more work, she might even be able to revert those who were already primals.

“Th-that smoke is getting thicker. It’s coming under the doors!”

Cassie’s head jerked up at Charles’s shout. He was right. Smoke was coming under the doors.

Where don’t you want to be when a brutal fire is coming toward you? Trapped underground, with no windows.

There was only one way out of her lab room—through that barred door.

She could hear the crackle of flames coming closer and closer.

Charles turned to her. “What are we going to do?”

Sweat trickled over her skin. It was getting so hot in that room. Too hot. The smoke was making Jamie cough. “We have to get out. The tunnel . . . It’s the only way.” They couldn’t go back up in that elevator. Fire waited in the elevator, above the elevator—and Jon had to be up there some place, too.

I can’t face him now.

She already had one phoenix to deal with.

“We have to get out.” Cassie was coughing, but she rushed toward the door. She reached for the bar—and it scorched her fingers. The heat near the door was blistering. Gasping, she jumped back.

Her gaze flew around the lab. She’d have to find something to use for prying up that bar. If she used her hands, she’d get second or third degree burns. Her gaze locked on the closet and the trusty mop she’d used before. She rushed for the closet.

The doors flew in behind her, bringing in more smoke and flames. Cassie slipped, hitting the floor. She rolled over and looked up—and stared into the burning stare of a phoenix shifter.

“We are so dead,” came the frightened rasp from Charles.

Cassie shook her head. No way. They weren’t dead yet. And she didn’t plan on any of them dying soon.

She rose on knees that wanted to shake, but forced herself to hold steady. “Dante.” If he remembered her, then this part would be a piece of cake. He’d kill his flames, and they’d all get out of there, no problem.