The pack fanned out, tension snapping taut between them as they considered the new arrivals. They were the two runners—that Sanders was sure of. They had to be. And whatever else he’d expected, it hadn’t been this.

They looked normal. Almost. No, fuck that. They looked like something out of the damn Louvre. Like they should have been carved in marble with a frigging fig leaf covering the essentials. Sanders had never been into bodybuilding, not really. When human, he’d been too lean and as a lycan, there was no point. But he had always been into the bodybuilders themselves, and he knew a perfect physique when he saw one.

Or two.

He hadn’t realized he’d drifted closer until Jack cleared his throat in warning. Sanders’ eyes widened and he stopped, shock coursing through his system. He’d almost come within range of the one on the left, who was watching him with a cold, assessing eye.

“Nice work on the towers,” Jack commented.

His posture, like that of the rest of the pack, was loose and relaxed, but only an idiot would take it to mean non-threatening. Menace and power hung in the air like smog, clinging to the lycans as they held their changes back. They could shift and be furry within a heartbeat, Jack probably faster. But having seen the new guys in action, Sanders wasn’t sure it would be enough. There was no fear in their eyes, no concern even though they faced down nearly an entire pack. Lycans had been considered one of the Project’s most dangerous creatures, so to be looked at like they were prey was disconcerting.

The one at the front shrugged. “Thanks. It was necessary.”

Sanders narrowed his eyes, noting more about them. They had a stillness, a wrongness, which pulled at all his instincts even though something attracted him like a magnet. His blood on fire, body on edge. All he wanted to do was wrap himself around one of them and…

“Shit.”

He jerked himself back from the edge. Nic shoved herself between him and the object of his fascination. She didn’t seem affected, glaring at the two. Pain lanced through Sanders’ arm, and he looked down to find her claws buried in the muscle. Blood oozed around the punctures but he didn’t mind. It helped him to focus, dispel the strange attraction the pair held over him.

The wind changed, buffeting the two from behind and their scent washed over the pack. Sanders gasped. The scent like a rich perfume even though his mind rejected the smell as wrong. The scent was dead. That fleshy, weird scent the newly dead got. Not yet corrupt—but just after death, before the rigor mortis set in. They smelled like RAs before the things began to rot. With a side of…spider?

“Shiiiiiit.”

At least three wolves backed up, wariness written into every line of their bodies.

“What are you?”

The two men hadn’t moved, despite the clear threat from the fanned out wolves, but the leader—for want of a better word—swiveled his gaze at Jack.

“What do you think we are?”

Jack didn’t pull punches. “You smell like freaking re-animates. But the last time I checked, you guys didn’t have quite so much going on up top. Which means the Project haven’t quit playing god yet. I’m Harper, you are?”

The RA smiled. From the remains of his fatigues, he’d been military, rather than one of the admin staff on base.

But still, the use of rank now seemed pointless. Rank had devolved into something else entirely. Into pack and other groupings. Into alphas and betas. Leadership was now determined by power and ability, not by a human-based system or time in service. One of the other packs—Alpha-Five, from memory—the section corporal had emerged the other side of the conversion as the alpha.

“I’m Fredericks. This is Perkins. And yeah, we’re re-animates. Stronger, faster…better. They call us ‘self-aware re-animates.’ Some dumbfuck nicknamed us SARAs. Can’t say I’m happy about the female moniker but shit happens.” He sighed and ran a hand through close-cropped dark hair, anger and something else apparent on his face. “I know who you are. We were sent to St. Mary’s to bring you guys in. Needless to say, we didn’t manage it.”

Nic’s sharp intake of breath echoed the surprise and recognition surging through Sanders. If they were among the troops who’d been sent in to take them down…

Fredericks’ lips quirked into a bitter little smile.

“Yeah, you got us. Then the Project fucked us over. The first we can forgive. We were doing our jobs. You were fighting for survival. I get it, man. The second…there’s no forgiving the Project for what it’s done.”

Jack jerked his head toward the base. All those on foot had made it through the fences now, and the guards were busily trying to rectify the situation. A bit like locking the barn door after the horse had bolted. Of course, it made trying to get into the base a bad idea.

Sanders nibbled his lip. Hopefully Darce had gotten out.

“What’s going on down there? We saw the hangar go up. Thought that side was abandoned.”

The low snarl from Fredericks took them all aback, but not as much as the sudden movement of his head. It wasn’t a shake, or a nod, but a rapid jerk up and to the side. Like he was cricking his neck. But faster, almost too fast to see. Like a DVD on the fritz, flicking back and forth between frames. Sanders narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t a human movement. No fucking way. What had they put in the mix with these guys?

“What isn’t going on?” the second man, Perkins, spoke up. “There’s an underground section under the hangars. When they’re done up top with subjects, they move ‘em down there. Make ‘em fight in cages…have you ever seen a blood and a lycan forced to fight to the death while the guards record it? Fuckers.” He spat on the ground in disgust.

“Cages? Recording…” Jack paused and looked down at the flaming ruin of the hangar. Emergency crews still thronged about it, trying to put the flames out. “Holy shit. All of them?”

Perkins and Fredericks nodded, their faces grim. Jack didn’t ask what their roles had been. For that Sanders was grateful. Given the standard RAs’ proclivity for eating their victims, it didn’t make for pleasant thoughts. Not at all.

“The recordings were transmitted somewhere. From what we picked up, it was a money-making scam with the guys at the top. Then one of yours got in the ring and the shit hit the fan.”

Jack stilled. The entire pack stiffened.

“One of ours? You saw Foster? Did he get clear?”

Fredericks nodded, but his expression was tight. “Saw him, but he was in the ring last time any of us had eyes on. I’m sorry, but I doubt he survived. They’ve got a hybrid in there. Big bastard.”

“Hybrid? Fuck it, I don’t think I want to know.” Jack shook his head. “But he was alive the last time you saw him?”

The SARAs nodded.

“Good enough for me. Whatever it takes, we’ll get him out.” Jack looked around the pack, who gave him small grunts of agreement. They wouldn’t leave one of their own in a hellhole like that. He turned back to the two men.

“Can we count on your support?”

Fredericks shook his head. “You don’t want us around. Seriously. There are…elements of our new natures that make us too dangerous. For you, for anyone. We destroyed the other subjects.”

He flicked a glance calmly over his shoulder as though talking about killing his own kind was an everyday occurrence and carried on.

“Flame and corruption will mean they can’t use them. We have two recovering their research so they won’t be able to make more of us. Best place for us is to disappear somewhere quietly. Stay under the radar and get rid of the evidence somehow when the time comes so we don’t infect anyone or anything.”

The pack fell silent at the firm resolve in Fredericks’ voice. No gung-ho “make them all pay,” no “we are the best, the fastest, and we’ll make sure everyone knows it.” Just a quiet and dignified decision to put right what had been made wrong. Jack cleared his throat when the two men turned to go.

“Respect, man. I hope things…turn out the way you wish them too. And if you need us, you know how to find us…” The pack alpha paused. Sanders chewed on the inside of his lip in thought. Just what were these guys capable of? Could they do what the Project couldn’t and locate the pack?

“I guess, anyway?” Jack asked.

Fredericks looked over his shoulder. A set of vicious claw marks had opened the flesh, revealing the stark whiteness of bone. Sanders winced. That had to freaking hurt like a bitch, but Fredericks didn’t seem to notice. Like his skin was nothing more than another layer of clothing.

“Yeah. We can find you. Good luck finding your man.”

In the next instant they were gone, just the tall grasses swaying slightly to mark their passing.

“Well…hell. That was unexpected.” Jack ran his hand over his head, scrubbing at the shaved strands, and he extended an arm for Lilly to nestle under. Sanders watched them for a second, a pang deep in his heart so sharp it took his breath away. He felt someone’s eyes on him—Richards—but he refused to look at the bigger lycan, instead moving closer to pay attention to Jack.

“‘Kay, this is what we’re gonna do. We’ve got no chance of getting in now, not with extra men on the perimeter. Best we lay low until they start to change the shifts and see if there’s a gap in the pattern. Then we’ll slip through in the truck.” Jack paused for the wolves to gather around. “But this changes things. Nic, I need you to peel off and find someone for me. Colonel Jamison Tanner. He was my old CO and as straight as they come. If anyone can bring this shit-storm down, it’s him.”

Nic nodded. “Sure thing, boss. Where do I find him?”

“Last I heard he retired and went back home. Wilson, Arizona.”

 

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, stop your damn sniveling, woman.”

Colonel Fitzgerald’s voice cut through the foggy haze in Toni’s brain as she was dragged along yet another corridor and into an office. She was slumped between two burly guards. Her head lolled and she tried to get a look at where she was. Looked like the main admin buildings, but she couldn’t be sure with her brain off in never-never land.

Whatever they’d used in the smoke grenades, it was new and damn good stuff. Her body ached like she’d been on a three-week bender with a chaser of anesthetic. Her legs weren’t working right, and her feet dragged uselessly on the floor. She’d tried to stand up, fight the guards, but her left knee had done the funky chicken while her right knee was denying the existence of the rest of her body. Coordination and the whole walking thing? Totally beyond her at the moment. Hell, thinking was enough of a challenge.

“I haven’t put your family in the RA program, what more do you want?”

The sound of soft sobbing filtered through the haze. Toni rolled her head back, blinking away the fog in her eyes to see Fitzgerald rearranging his fly while his aide, a pretty, petite little woman Toni had seen around the base, cowered in the corner. Anger surged through her, her instinctive reaction to slap seven shades of shit out of the bastard thwarted by the drugs in her system.

The guards all looked the other way, the set expressions on their faces telling her they’d seen it all before. And ignored it. Let it continue. She knew not one of them was going to stop the colonel from abusing the poor woman.

Disgust flared as the guards dragged her into the center of the room. She wanted to rip the “didn’t see nothing” expressions off their faces, but she’d settle for ripping their faces off period. What was it about assholes and scumbags that made them run in packs? Was there some kind of secret code—perhaps a silly handshake with a rubber chicken—that they used to recognize each other?

She sagged in their hold deliberately, making them bear her weight. Why should she make it easy for them? This was bad shit all around now, and the only way she might possibly make it out alive was to use every weapon at her disposal. Right now, that amounted to the fact she was thinking, and that her right knee was kind of beginning to talk to the rest of her body again. Go her.

“McCoy, keep her shut.”

Fitzgerald’s snarl made Toni snap her eyes open again to find the colonel advancing toward her, his pet blood moving in behind him to grab the crying aide and hold her still with a hard hand in her hair. “Well, well, well…Major Fielding. So nice to see you again.”

He shot a look at the guards while she struggled to her feet. “Where did you find her?”

“Between the SARA holding area and the main,” one of her captors replied, shoving her back down to her knees in front of the colonel. “Looks like she was the one who trashed the cutting and broadcast room.”

“Oh really? What makes you say that?” Fitz asked, his voice casual, like they were discussing the base summer fete. He reached out and stroked a chubby finger down Toni’s cheek. She growled at the touch and snapped at the hand but her movement was slow, sluggish, and easily evaded. Fitz chuckled and grabbed her jaw in a punishing grip, something he’d never have been able to do if she wasn’t sedated. “And she made it past the SARAs? Alive? Interesting.”

“Yeah, had to have been her. Not the new RAs. The bodies weren’t—” The guard cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. “They weren’t chewed up or eaten. Clean kills. Well, kind of.”

“Hmmm.” He forced her chin up and made her look at him. She hissed, flashing her fangs. No point playing nice now.

Fitz backhanded her, the blow catching her by surprise. The ring on his right hand cut her cheek. Pain lanced through her face as the scent of thick, black blood blossomed on the air. Her blood.

“Behave, or else,” he threatened and nodded to the guards.

She sprawled across the floor, letting her body weight take her down. Her muscles were heavy and her limbs hard to control. Frustration rolled through her when her right knee gave in again.

Fitz grabbed her by the hair at the back of her neck and hauled her up against him. She recoiled, pushing against him, but her struggles were weak. What the fuck was happening? The drugs should be wearing off by now.

“Yeah, you like that?” he snarled, expression twisted. “It’s a new blend of sedative cooked up by the scientists in the SARA labs. Virus-based delivery, so it works its way through the vic’s system and finds the best way to fuck them up. By the looks of you, it’s a raging success.”

His voice dropped softer and he looked down at her, something else replacing the hatred in his eyes. Frustration? Lust? The thought made her sick to her stomach.

“You always were the best and fastest we had. I remember when you arrived on base.” He trailed almost tender fingers down the side of her face. “So beautiful…all the guys wanted you, I could see it. Filthy perverts. I was going to ask you out…”

His expression twisted, his hold becoming harder in her hair. Her head was forced back and tears sprang to her eyes. Was he going to kiss her? She bared her fangs as he bent his head. Not a fucking chance. She might be drugged up to the eyeballs, but if he put his lips anywhere near hers, she’d take them off at the damn skull.

“But you had to go and get yourself infected. Now you’re fucking useless. I won’t touch anything that’s not human.”

He turned and threw her over the desk. Pain shot up her forearms as she got her hands up in time, but didn’t do anything to protect her hip when it slammed into the edge. Immediately Fitz was on her, the thick swelling pressing against her ass proof his claims of immunity were bullshit.

His hand tangled in her hair again. He yanked her head up, and pain tore through her scalp. She caught the eye of the aide, tears streaming down the girl’s face as Brent held her. His eyes were fixed on Toni though, sick eagerness in the black-on-black depths. He wanted Fitz to hurt her. Bastard.

“Then you go and fuck me over? Ruin my little side enterprise?”

He moved, the pressure of his cock sliding between her ass cheeks. Bile rose and she swallowed painfully. God, she was going to throw up. There was a click and something pressed hard against the side of her head.

She froze, recognizing the feel of a muzzle. Fear ran a hot tide through her limbs. Since her infection, she’d known it would end this way. A bullet to the head. Unmarked grave. Her breath whispered from her lungs and she closed her eyes. A wave of peace washed over her. She regretted nothing…except the fact she’d only kissed her lycan. Her lycan, no one else’s, despite all the rules that said she should want to rip his heart out, not screw him senseless.

Her mind filled with memories, each locked away carefully and provided without hesitation. The feel of his lips on hers. The slide of skin over wet skin. The prickle of his stubble against her jaw, her throat. The rush of pleasure that turned her limbs to mush and her body compliant to his when he covered her. Heat and need slammed through her with the force of a grenade and was overlaid with grief. He was likely dead now, cut down by the guards like the lycan in the corridor.

Pain took her breath away. She should never have brought him back here…should have let him go. Gone with him. In a split second her mind supplied her with endless erotic might-have-beens—the life they might have lived, and her heart ached with it. In that second she’d have traded everything she had, an eternity of pain and suffering for one more moment in his arms.

“Fucking bitch. Even being hot won’t save you now.” Fitz snarled and moved, jamming the pistol harder behind her ear. This was it. He would pull the trigger and end everything. The pain, the loneliness, the constant struggle against the darkness with her, would all be gone.

Someone cleared a throat behind them.

“Sir, if I may?” the voice was cultured and sounded well-educated. Certainly more so than the average grunt Fitz chose for his guards. “She’s a highly viable subject for our…other program?”

The breath hissed out between her teeth and the pressure behind her ear eased. She could practically hear the cogs turning in Fitz’s head. He pushed away and she sagged against the desk in relief. Every cell in her body screamed in pain, protesting the presence of the drugs in her system.

“Right. Yeah…good point.”

He yanked Toni back up and shoved her toward McCoy, who dropped the aide like a hot cake to catch Toni. He then yanked her up hard against his taller form, retribution and sick eagerness in his eyes. She hissed weakly at him but her struggles were easily contained.

“Put ‘em both in. The sniveling bitch as well. And McCoy?”

The blood looked up, his hand hard around Toni’s throat. “Yeah?”

“She doesn’t have to be a looker, but she has to be fully functional for the program. Understand me?”

McCoy growled, the angry sound soft in the back of his throat, but he nodded.

“Yeah, I understand.”

Brent dragged her toward the door, one of his bully boys following with the sobbing aide. She ground her teeth and tried again to clear the drugs from her system. Then she gasped as her head pounded and her lungs burned. Then her knees began to shake.

Fuck.

This was going to hurt.