“Willing test subjects who knew the risks. The only subject who didn’t know the risks survived and has changed the whole game, but people are still treating me like I killed her.”

“Actually, we’re treating you like you raped her, which is more accurate.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Yes, I understand that psychopaths often grapple with the issue of consent. But hopefully it’s clear to you that there were a dozen things that could have gone wrong with what you did to her. All of them horrible.”

“And yet none of them came to pass. And you have what you want for the first time. But you’re not letting me anywhere near it because . . . I don’t know, you have some desire to punish me for the fact that I stopped sleeping with you when you shut down my project.”

“I’m not punishing you. I’m giving you time to figure out who you’ll need to be when this comes together again. If I put The Consortium back together, if I get the funding and the labs running again, you will be a man among men, a worker among workers. No more mad rogue stuff. So reflect now on how you’ll accomplish that. Because if you treat anyone involved in this the way you treated Charlotte, I will fucking end you, do you understand me, Noah?”

Cole’s not sure how to interpret Noah’s expression. The glaze in his eyes makes him look both angry and distant, but his thick beard makes the rest of his face harder to read. It’s also not a typical posture for him; slouched down on the sofa like a sullen teenager, his hands resting on his stomach. The only clothes he’s been allowed are T-shirts and pajama pants, and now they complete the look of a hungover ne’er-do-well, drying out at his parents’ mansion. Which couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Fine,” he whispers. “On one condition.”

“We’re not negotiating.”

“Stop calling me Noah.”

There’s something in his voice that Cole’s never heard before. Pain. Pure pain, complete with a weak tremor and a breathiness that suggests it’s threaded with fear. In all the time they spent together, ranging from the intimate to the professional, Cole never heard the man before him use a tone quite like this one. It’s ironic given the request, but Cole wonders if this is the first time he’s hearing Noah Turlington’s voice and not Dylan Cody’s.

“I’ll consider it,” Cole says.

He picks up the file from where Noah hurled it to the floor and sets it gently on the coffee table between them. “This is more than just a crumb. It’s got detailed analyses of all her levels for four days after her regeneration. Study it. Make sense of it. Tell me if you see something that surprises you. And maybe then I’ll let you shave.”

“Thank you,” Noah says quietly. But suddenly he flinches as if from an invisible blow. He raises one hand to his temple and bows his head. Cole’s so startled his anger leaves him. His first thought—the security team’s been listening in, and they’ve decided to play a little trick with Noah’s blood trackers meant to punish him for his attitude.

But Noah recovers too quickly. Suddenly, he’s staring at Cole again as if nothing’s wrong.

“Are you all right?” Cole asks.

“Fine,” Noah says, “just a little headache.”

“Take a walk. Get some air.”

“I’ve had my fill of mountain air, thanks. If anything, that’s the problem.”

“Oh, well. Be grateful. Your problems could be so much worse than that.” Cole turns and heads for the door. “I look forward to your report, Noah.”

“Cole!”

Cole stops, but doesn’t turn.

“How is she?” Noah asks.

“Very happy,” Cole says. “She’s got a boyfriend now. They’re making a nice life together. Peaceful. Stable.”

He walks out the front door before Noah can call his name again.

They’re airborne by the time the email comes through.

It’s from Kelley Chen, who’s running lead on the paradrenaline research.

Even though it’s only two words long, Cole has to read it several times before the shock wears off.

Complete Elimination.

When he gets to his feet, Scott perks up, but Cole dismisses him with a wave and moves to the sleeping cabin at the back of the plane.

Once he’s slid the door shut behind him, he calls Kelley from his sat phone. As usual, she answers without a formal greeting. “It’s early, but I thought you should know.”

“Complete elimination means what exactly?” he asks.

“Exactly what I said.”

Kelley isn’t one for wild swings of emotion, but there’s a tremor in her voice right now. It’s excitement; it has to be. Or more precisely, it’s her failing effort to suppress it.

“How much paradrenaline did it take?” he asks.

“All of it.”

“OK. Well, we have more from the Davies operation we can—”

“No, we used that, too. We’re out. We need more.”

“You just decided to use the whole batch?”

“The cell degradation was constant with each of the measured doses we used. We couldn’t believe what we were seeing, so we just kept going. Sorry. It was exciting.”