“Tell me what’s been going on,” he pleaded. “Men come and rough me up, bragging about slayers they’ve killed, and I don’t know what’s true and what’s not. How’s Jaclyn? Is she okay?”

“She’s...” I paused. Last time I’d seen her, she’d been unconscious. “Still breathing.” It was the best I could offer. “Trina, Lucas, Cruz and Collins are dead. Have been since the night you were taken. Today, Anima bombed Mr. Ankh’s house. We were all there. Mr. Ankh died.” My chin quivered. “Kat...” I couldn’t get out any more than that.

Had the antidote had enough time to cleanse her of zombie toxin? Had it been strong enough?

Would her spirit rise, dark and hungry?

Not knowing what was to come...

Being so far away from her...

In some ways, I felt as if I was falling into an endless pit of despair. No, not a pit. A grave. Falling, faster and faster, with no way to save myself. But the truth was, I’d already hit rock bottom.

Kat had wanted a life, had decided to fight for more time. Time, so precious. Every second mattered. And now she had no seconds left. They’d been taken from her. Every. Single. One.

I’d never get to tell her I was sorry. Or that I loved her. Or that she meant more to me than oxygen.

I’d never hug her. Never see her. The pictures we’d taken that night in my room, when she’d made such hard-core love to the camera she’d created a baby, were gone. Lost in the rubble of Mr. Ankh’s home.

Rage...stronger...

Justin sagged against the bars. “I hate myself. I used to work with these people. Used to help them strike at Cole.” He laughed bitterly. “How stupid was I?”

“Save your pity party for later.” Good advice. Wished I could take it. “How often are you left alone?”

“More often than not.”

“Did the men who brought me here say anything about when we could expect a visit?”

“No. They were complaining about having to go back out and clean up the mess that was just made.”

Good. I pushed to my feet, stumbled to the door and prayed this worked. Reaching around, I pressed my thumb into the pad of the lock. With slayers, Anima never used the kind that needed keys. Too many of us knew how to pick them.

The lock disengaged. So quickly. So easily. Almost comically.

Justin jumped up and rushed to his door. “How did you do that?”

“My mother,” I said.

“I thought she was a civilian.”

I wasn’t going to explain. I walked to the door of his cage and pressed my thumb into the lock. The door opened, and he sprinted out.

“Let’s go.” He was halfway to the exit before he realized I’d merely walked to the table. “Ali! Come on!” He waved me over.

I stuffed the pen in my pocket. Use any weapon, Daddy? Watch me. Then I returned to my cage, shutting—and locking—the door.

He stumbled toward me, his dark eyes glittering with confusion. “You’re not coming with me?”

“No.” I was right where I needed to be.

“But—”

“No buts. Get out of here. Let Cole know I’m alive and that I’ve got a plan.”

He gaped at me. “Ali, don’t do this. Don’t stay. They’ll hurt you. And your plan, whatever it is, will get you killed.”

I offered him a small smile. “It’s already done. Now go. Before it’s too late for you.”

He took a step away, stopped. Took another step, stopped. Always looking back at me. I knew there was a battle waging in his head. The alpha side of him screamed not to leave the damsel in distress behind. Wanted to protect me. But the logical side of him knew he wouldn’t get very far if I was fighting him every inch of the way.

“I’ll gather the others. We’ll come back for you.”

“All right,” I said, pretty sure I’d be moved by the time he made it to Cole, but knowing he needed some sort of incentive to go.

Justin disappeared beyond the door.

I breathed a sigh of relief. And waited.

* * *

Time passed. I’m not sure how much. Eventually, three Anima soldiers stepped into the warehouse. One was sipping from a coffee cup; all were relaxed. No hazmat suits. Just T-shirts and jeans. The guys stopped when they realized Justin’s cage was open and empty.

Cursing, they sprang into action, searching the makeshift prison for answers. Finding none.

They focused on me.

“Where is he?” one demanded.

Another male strolled inside the warehouse, and he, too, sipped from a coffee cup. He wore scrubs. He was on the short side and lean, with thinning gray hair. Was that a piece of muffin in his beard?

He was somehow familiar to me, but I was certain I hadn’t met him. I would have...remembered....

Remembered. The word echoed in my mind, reminding me that Helen had covered my memory. That I’d spent the first five years of my life—no, six years—being tested by Anima. This man must have been there.

“Dr. Andrews,” one of the guards said. “The boy is gone.”

How nice. This man from my past was the mysterious Wyatt Andrews—Hodad. The one who’d hurt Justin. Perfect. Made my job a little easier.

Dr. Andrews stopped at the table, his gaze remaining on me. He set down his coffee and ran his tongue over his teeth. Focusing on me, he said, “We were going to do you both a favor and move you to a cleaner facility with better accommodations. Now we’ll have to hurt you first.” His attention shifted to the men. “Tie Miss Bell’s hands behind her back and bring her over.” He withdrew a small velvet pouch from the pocket of his shirt and unrolled it. Pieces of silver glinted. Weapons, I was sure.