Becca Scott. Becca Scott. She was real. She was the right soul in the right body, and this was just a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

But the pain in her cheek and the agony in her head made it feel all too real. Her whole body still trembled, convulsions snapped through her muscles, and she fought to catch her breath and steady her pulse. Yet even with all that, and with the connection severed between her and the devil’s master, she felt like her tenuous hold of herself was slipping through her fingers.

Becca Scott. Becca. Human. Herself.

The connection with the devil’s master had never been that strong before. Even last night, when, for the first time, his presence — powerful, dangerous, and seductively masculine — had overwhelmed her and burned through every cell in her body, it hadn’t been that consuming. It was as if talking to him, making contact instead of just eavesdropping, had solidified something between them. As if it had created a connection that called to her and terrified her at the same time, and now he had the key to get inside her and take over, just like the other monsters from the cave.

Doctor Stanbury, with her dark-rimmed glasses and hair pulled back in a severe chignon, stood at her bedside and stared at her. With a tsk, her dark gaze jumped to the monitors beside the bed, and she made a note on a chart secured to a clipboard. “Lost the connection again.”

Thank God.

“You should attempt to reconnect.”

Hell, no. Please. Don’t make me try.

“There’s no connection.” The words jumped out before Becca could stop them. Arguing, denying, saying anything to her captors was pointless. She’d learned that from the cave. Besides, they weren’t real, and this wasn’t happening. Clearly, Stanbury was a part of the dream… hallucination… psychotic break? Whatever the hell it was, since she wanted to know what the devil’s master was saying. God only knew why Becca wasn’t just telling her.

Except she knew that, even in this nightmare, if she gave in to her captor’s demands, she’d be lost, her body imprisoned, and her soul just as trapped as it was now. Freedom didn’t come from giving in. It came from fighting.

Which meant she really had to be crazy, because there was nothing to fight. This wasn’t real. She wasn’t feeling what she was feeling, and she wasn’t hearing what she was hearing.

“There’s no point in lying,” Stanbury said, her smile so cold it could freeze fire. “Tell the truth and your… situation will become more comfortable.”

Yeah, because grabbing me off the street and strapping me to a bed makes you trustworthy. Thank God, it was just her wrists and not her legs as well. At least the monsters in the cave hadn’t tried to manipulate her. They’d just invaded her head and tried to brutalize her mind into submission. That was the kind of fight she preferred. Head on. None of these games.

But maybe that was why her nightmare had changed and become manipulative. She feared she wasn’t mentally strong enough to survive. It hadn’t been the attack on her men… her friends… her family at the market that had made her leave the armed forces. It had been the look on the face of the boy with the bomb. The certainty and fervor in his eyes. It had been the wails of a bleeding toddler, tugging at his mother’s body, and the cries of the children in the mangled school tent. It hadn’t mattered what Becca had done then. She hadn’t been able to save everyone.

And it didn’t matter what she did now, because this was a nightmare. It wasn’t real. She was herself, Becca Scott. A human. Dragons and magic didn’t exist.

Maybe if she thought it hard enough, said it enough times, it would be true, and she’d wake up.

Stanbury tapped her pen on the clipboard, the ticking a counter-rhythm to the beeping of the heart monitor. “If you’re going to beat this, you need to confront it.”

“And telling you I hear voices is confronting this?”

“It would indicate there’s still a part of you resistant to the delusion.” Stanbury pursed her lips. Tap. Beep. Tap tap. Beep.

Yes, that was what it was, a delusion. Except—

“It would mean,” Stanbury said, “a part of your mind can detach itself from your condition and examine the situation dispassionately.”

Except that would mean Stanbury wasn’t a part of the nightmare?

Becca’s chest tightened, and the beeping of the monitor picked up. If Stanbury wasn’t part of that nightmare, that meant not all of this was in her head.

Tap. Beep. Tap tap. Beep.

Surely being trapped in the cave, having monsters invade her mind and tear into her soul to awaken an impossible magic, was the nightmare.

But when had she regained consciousness? When Werner had created that vortex and dumped them in a deserted playground in… she had no idea where. It had been freezing, and there’d been modest-sized mounds of snow. Or had she still been captured by the hallucination when she’d figured out they were in Newgate in the USA — only God knew why her nightmare would toss her into a foreign country. Or had it been when they’d found an abandoned warehouse, dumpster-dived for food, and stole clothes from a bag abandoned beside a clothing-donation drop box? Or had it been sometime when the devil’s master had been after them and the others, and they’d fled, hiding in a different abandoned warehouse or then the abandoned house or when in the park or—

She didn’t know what was real. If anything was real. Was Stanbury? The hospital?

All she knew was that she couldn’t stay like this. Every instinct she had screamed Stanbury couldn’t be trusted, but that could be part of the dream. If she was losing her mind, she couldn’t trust anything she felt or thought.

“The voice—”

“The devil’s master?”

“Yes.” Heat flushed Becca’s face. She really was crazy. Last night she’d said he was sending the devil after her. It had felt so real, and the devil had been so angry.

When she’d first heard the voice of the devil’s master, it had been a growl in her dreams. The night she’d escaped from the monsters and their cave had been the first time she’d heard him while awake, and now—

Now he was inside her. Not just a voice, but a presence, filled with agony and rage and heartache and determination.

“I think he’s looking for me.”

“I see.” Stanbury adjusted her glasses and jotted something on the chart. “Does he know where you are?”

“I don’t even know where I am.” Or if any of this is real.

“You’re in a private facility.” Something flashed across Stanbury’s expression, but Becca wasn’t sure what it was. It seemed like hope… or satisfaction. That had to be it, because Becca was opening up — a move that made Becca’s insides squirm.

Hadn’t she just decided fighting was best?

Hadn’t she just thought a thousand crazy thoughts before that?

God. Please. “What kind of a facility?” And who was paying for it? She didn’t have a lot of money and didn’t have any family left to help pay for a private facility. She doubted the government would cover something private… and this wasn’t her country, so not her government—

Jeez. The point was, the lack of details only added to the evidence that this was still part of the nightmare.

“You’ve made good progress today, Rebecca.” Stanbury slipped her pen into the side pocket of her lab coat.

She was leaving? But she’d promised to make the situation more comfortable. Surely that meant removing the cuffs.

Becca flexed her wrists against the leather securing her to the bed, hoping Stanbury would realize what she’d forgotten.

The doctor’s gaze dipped to the restraints and the ice returned to her smile, making Becca’s heart stutter and breaking the monitor’s steady rhythm.

Stanbury’s attention jumped to the screen.

In that heartbeat, Becca knew Stanbury wasn’t going to remove the cuffs. Ever.

Stanbury’s smile bled from frozen to satisfied. So soon. The dugga must know who she is and be desperate to find her.

Becca’s pulse leapt again and she fought to steady it. She hadn’t just heard that—

No, she had, and she was still trapped in the nightmare. A nightmare with a monster so terrible, even the monsters from the cave had feared him more than their terrifying queen. They knew if the dugga had discovered them, he’d kill them all, monsters and human prisoners alike. If the devil’s master was the dugga, she had to find a way to get him out of her head.

Her pulse beat faster.

He was coming for her. He’d wanted to know where she was.

She had to get out of there, hide, and then come up with a plan.

“What’s he saying?” Stanbury asked.

Becca’s throat tightened. Her first instinct had been right. She couldn’t trust Stanbury, and there was no way in hell she was staying there.

“Tell me, Rebecca.” Stanbury leaned closer, the lab coat brushing Becca’s knuckles. “What is he saying?”

“Saying—?” Who was saying what? Did Stanbury think Becca was hearing the devil’s master right now?

“Rebecca,” Stanbury said, her tone too sweet as her gaze returned to the heart monitor and Becca’s rapid pulse.

“He’s saying—” God, she had to get out of those cuffs. She had to lie, say something to convince Stanbury to release her, or—

The pen in Stanbury’s pocket bumped against the back of Becca’s hand, and her heart jerked again.

Escape. She could use the pen to undo the buckle on the cuffs.

“He’s talking to the devil,” she lied as she shifted her hand, straining to grab the pen without Stanbury noticing.

“Diablo?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” Stanbury drew the pen from her pocket and made a note in the chart.

Shit.

Becca’s pulse beat faster.

God damned shit.

Confirmation of the black dragon Diablo, known member of the Asar Nergal. Confirmation she’s attuned to the dugga.

Becca gasped and fought to concentrate on her thoughts instead of Stanbury’s.

Come on. Get the pen. She couldn’t hope someone would accidentally loosen the cuffs. The pen was her only way to freedom, and, even if this was just a nightmare, she sure as hell wasn’t going to remain a prisoner. She was going to fight with everything she had.