Jesus, she hoped one of the domes hadn’t given way. Rowan hurried out of her office and into the tunnel. In the first week of the expedition, one dome hadn’t been secured properly, and it had partially caved in during their first storm. It had made a mess, blowing crap everywhere, not to mention scaring the hell out of them.

She ran into the rec dome and found it empty. The shouts and screams were coming from the labs. As Rowan jogged into another tunnel, another noise drowned out the screams.

This sound made her freeze in her tracks.

The wild roar didn’t sound human. It sounded like a wild beast on the hunt.

What the fuck? She sprinted forward, almost tripping over her own feet. She stumbled into the first lab.

It was empty and eerily quiet.

And completely trashed.

The workbenches had been tipped over, glassware and lab equipment lay smashed on the floor. She stared at the tiny green plants, that had survived millennia, only to be crushed under running feet.

“Hello?” she called out.

She heard another high-pitched scream. Was that Amara? This time, it came from down another tunnel that led toward the sleeping quarters.

Rowan shivered. The temperature had dropped and goose bumps broke out over her arms. She took a step and her foot bumped something.

She looked down. “Oh, God!”

Marc lay prone on the floor, blood dripping down his face. Huge slash wounds covered his chest and neck.

She knelt and pressed her fingers to his throat. It was then she realized he was freezing cold, his skin coated in a thin layer of ice.

He was dead.

Rowan sucked in a few quick breaths. What the hell was going on? Had a rabid polar bear gotten inside? She touched Marc’s face, and noticed his eyes were open. She sucked in another harsh breath. Both his eyes were milky white and covered in a cracked web of ice.

Something was seriously wrong.

A noise echoed in the nearest tunnel. She shot to her feet, staring ahead. Her heart was racing, pounding against her ribs. There was another sound, a scrape of something against the hard side of the dome.

Then slow, heavy footsteps.

Rowan didn’t stop to think. She needed to get away, she needed somewhere to hide.

She leaped over Marc’s body. Glass crunched under her feet and she winced. Where could she go? Her gaze swung frantically across the dome.

Those slow, menacing footsteps got closer. Rowan’s throat closed, and she then spied a small cabinet across the lab. She hurried over and ripped open the doors.

Two shelves were loaded with various boxes of equipment. She tore them from the shelves and tossed them on the ground. Next, she yanked out the top shelf and set it against the wall.

She tugged on the bottom shelf, but it wouldn’t budge. “Come on, come on.”

That inhuman roar came again, chilling her blood.

Rowan put her foot against the cabinet and yanked. The shelf came loose.

She almost lost her balance, but caught herself and tossed the shelf onto the floor. She launched herself into the tiny confines of the cabinet. With shaking hands, she pulled the doors closed. She couldn’t quite get the last one shut, so she left it slightly ajar. With a silent prayer, she hoped whatever it was that was tearing up the camp wouldn’t notice.

Rowan waited, her pulse pounding in her ears. As soon as she could, she needed to get back to her office. She had a pistol and several rifles locked up in there. She also needed to get a mayday call out and, once she was armed, go and help her people.

Now, the only sound she heard was her own racing heartbeat. It had to be a polar bear. But she didn’t think a bear had killed Marc. Even though his chest had been slashed, he was frozen.

A shadow moved on the other side of the lab and Rowan stopped breathing.

Holding her breath, she watched the shadow move across the lab. Then it resolved into a slim figure with a blonde ponytail. Rowan’s shoulders sagged. Emily.

Rowan was just about to push the cabinet doors open, when Emily spun, gasping.

“No,” Emily cried.

A blur of white. The thing moved so fast that Rowan couldn’t tell what it was. It launched itself at Emily.

There was a crash and Emily screamed. Rowan slammed open the doors and surged out. “Emily!”

There was a blur again, and the thing raced into a tunnel with Emily over its shoulder.

It was no polar bear. Whatever this thing was, it walked upright on two legs.

Chest heaving, Rowan searched for a weapon. She emptied out drawers, trying to stay calm and not let the sob in her chest break free.

“Dammit.” There was nothing useful in this lab. Her gaze fell on a broom leaning against the wall. She snatched it up and snapped the bristled end off. Hefting the wooden stick, she knew it wasn’t much, but until she reached her office, it would have to do.

Emily needed her.

Rowan moved as quietly as she could. She stepped into the tunnel leading to the second lab. The air in the base was frigid now, her breath causing tiny puffs in front of her. The lights were still on, so the power was still functioning, but she wasn’t sure what had happened to the heating system. Maybe the thing had torn a hole in one of the domes.

She reached the end of the tunnel and peered into the second lab. Benches were lined up in neat rows. Nothing moved. Where was Emily?

Then Rowan saw the bodies.

Her stomach rolled and she raced forward. No. Dr. Spencer, Dr. Chan, and Dr. Petrov all lay sprawled on the floor. Amara was hanging over an overturned stool.

They were all frozen. Rowan touched their skin, her hand shaking. Icy. God. She shuddered, filled with hot panic and welling rage. A layer of ice covered their hair. Amara’s shirt was torn open and Rowan could see the woman’s veins under her skin. They weren’t blue-green, they were blue-white, like her blood was frozen.

Rowan had to get to her office. She needed to make a mayday call and find a weapon.

She turned and strode out, the broom handle gripped high. She also needed to find Emily, Isabel, Lars, and the rest of her team.

Reaching her office dome, Rowan made her way to the comms room. She was shivering now, but she gritted her teeth against the cold. She inched inside the room, searching for any sign of movement.

Samuel Malu was slumped on the floor by the communications computer. Grief hit her like a tidal wave. The Nigerian scientist had been soft-spoken and smart, with a sense of humor she’d enjoyed. Rowan crouched and closed the man’s eyes. He too, was coated in ice, and the comms equipment was smashed. She prayed that the sweet, smart man had gotten a message out.

Whether help was coming or not, she was the expedition leader. She straightened. It was her team, and her responsibility to keep them safe.

She made it to her office and the storage locker on the far wall. She punched in the code on the pad. The doors opened, and Rowan quickly grabbed a pistol. She checked the Glock, loaded it with ammunition, then closed the locker door.

When she turned, she noted the base heating controls on a wall panel. The lights were all on and a steady green. The system was working. She shivered again. Clearly whatever had attacked them had caused a breach.

She left her office, moving stealthily along the wall. She needed to find Emily and the others.

Moments later, she arrived back in the rec dome. It was still empty, half eaten meals still sitting on the tables and a few chairs overturned. God, had it only been an hour ago that she’d sat here talking with her excited team? She noticed a small circle of something clear and gleaming in the center of one table. With a frown, she touched it. Cold. Water.

She looked up.

Her stomach revolted. “Oh, no. Emily.”

Her young friend hung, suspended from the ceiling of the dome, encased in a web of ice that held her in place. Her eyes were clouded over, her mouth open in a scream. One slender arm was held out and frozen in place, like she was fending someone—or something—off.

Rowan pressed a hand to her mouth, bile a bitter taste in her throat.

Emily was dead, too. God, was anyone else left alive, besides her?

Fear and grief made Rowan’s chest tight. She could barely draw a breath. The entire base was silent now, and a voice in her head murmured that it was likely her entire team was dead.

Fuck that. Rowan lifted her handgun. She strode down to the final dome—the living quarters.

She reached the door. The lights were flickering, and when she took a step forward, she saw the bodies lying on the beds.

Nausea punched through her. She saw Isabel and the rest of her team.

They were all dead.

Isabel. No! The woman had fought back against her attacker, and was lying near an overturned bunk. Her dark hair was stark against her icy skin.

Rowan took a shaky step backward and bumped into a chair. It teetered, before crashing to the floor.

The sound was so loud. She froze.

Then she heard that same animal roar reverberate through the domes.

Shit. Rowan turned and ran. She sprinted blindly through the tunnels and domes. Where to go? If she went out on the ice, she was as good as dead. If she stayed in here, she’d end up like the rest of her team.

Without conscious thought, Rowan ended up back in the first lab. She looked around frantically.

Then she heard heavy breathing and the scrape of something on the floor.

It was coming.

She scanned the dome and went very still, searching the room. Nothing. She couldn’t see whatever the hell it was.

A footstep. Another.

It was coming from the opposite tunnel.

Rowan aimed her pistol. Her hands shook wildly. But the instinct to hide was too strong. Swallowing a cry, her gaze fell on the cabinet she’d hid in earlier. She dived back into it, and pulled the doors shut. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely manage to close the damn doors.

This time, they closed all the way.

She gripped the pistol in front of her, her breaths shuddering in and out of her lungs.

Rowan couldn’t see anything, but suddenly, she felt the temperature drop another couple of degrees, and she heard the heavy footsteps outside her hiding place.

Whatever the thing was, it had just entered the lab.

* * *

Lachlan Hunter strode down the Las Vegas sidewalk. In the distance, the glow from the casinos lit up the sky, and he could almost feel the pulse of energy from the Strip.

But tonight, he had no desire for noise, light, or people. They’d just gotten back from a mission. He was pretty sure some of his team would hit the casinos and clubs to blow off some steam, but all Lachlan wanted was a decent steak, a beer, and some sleep.

Of course, he’d returned to an empty apartment, and an even emptier fridge. Okay, not an entirely empty fridge. There had been something moldy growing on the top shelf.

Anyway, the lack of beer, combined with the science experiment, had forced him out of his apartment and toward the local corner store to grab a six-pack. He’d order a pizza later, and get groceries delivered tomorrow. Preferably after eight solid hours of sleep.

Female voices made him lift his head. Two women—both dolled up in short, sparkly dresses—were heading toward him on the sidewalk. No doubt bound for one of the clubs. He watched their gazes sharpen and run over him. He saw one lick her lips and smile.

“Hey there,” the lip-licker called out. “We’re headed to the casinos for a good time. How about you join us?”

“Not tonight,” Lachlan replied. “Have a good evening.”

The other woman grabbed his arm. “You sure?”

He met their gazes. “I’m sure.”

As they looked him in the eyes, their smiles faded. One shivered, and the one touching him stepped back.

“Ah…okay.” The lip-licker was now biting her lip.

They skirted around him, heels clicking on the sidewalk as they scurried away.

A faint smile tipped his lips. He was used to the reaction. Women either avoided him, or the wilder, bolder ones threw themselves at him. Blair, his pain-in-the-ass best friend and his second-in-command, had once told him, “Lachlan, you’ve got a hell of a body and a rugged, handsome face designed to make a woman weep…until she looks at your golden eyes. Tiger eyes. Flat, scary, and predatory.”

Of course, Blair wasn’t scared of him. She and the rest of his team got a few good laughs over the way people froze and took a step back in his presence. Lachlan didn’t give a shit. He’d been intense as a kid, too, and only one neighborhood friend hadn’t been afraid of him. The memory of a sassy little redhead with sad blue eyes sprang into his head. Hell, she’d been ten and he’d been thirteen when he’d moved away.

When his dad had put a gun in his mouth and ended his life.

Lachlan shook off the past. He knew there were far worse things out there than him, and he was more than happy to wade through the scum in order to protect his country.

He’d seen the shitty underbelly of life. Crawled facefirst through the muck and mire of war, having seen and dealt with things he never wanted to think about, ever again. He flexed his right hand. His entire right arm was a high-tech prosthetic, and when he was off-duty and back in Vegas, he kept it out of sight under a Henley and a thin, skin-colored glove. He opened his titanium fingers, hidden under the glove. Yep, he’d gotten up close and personal with the worst of the worst.

And he’d keep doing it, to ensure that women could dress up in pretty dresses and have fun, so families could sleep safely in their beds at night, and his mom could enjoy her happy retirement in Florida.

He’d done it as a Marine, and now as leader of the covert, black ops group known as Team 52.

Reaching the glass doors to the store, he stepped inside. He came in enough that he was a regular. The tense atmosphere hit him in the face instantly.

In a split second, he took in the situation—the stressed, terrified young man behind the register, and the man in front of the counter with his back to Lachlan. The man appeared tense and jumpy, and was shouting. He was also waving around a Smith & Wesson 9mm. A man and woman were cowering in the aisle near the fridges.

“Hey, Ricky,” Lachlan called out, striding toward the beer fridge. “How’s it hanging?”

Ricky, who was tall but hadn’t yet filled out, looked at Lachlan with wide eyes. “Uh…hey, Lachlan.”

“Just needed some beer.” Lachlan grabbed a six-pack of Coronas.

He nodded at the couple, and gave them a discreet wave to move back. Then he turned, strolled to the front of the store and set the beer on the counter.

“How much?” he asked.

“Are you stupid?” the man beside him screamed.

The guy stank and was clearly high. His clothes were stained with sweat and food.

“Nope,” Lachlan said.

“This is a robbery!”

Lachlan raised a brow. “No, it’s not. This is you choosing to do the wrong thing, at the wrong time, in the wrong place.” Lachlan lowered his tone. “It is not your day, friend.”

“I’m not your friend!”

Lachlan just stared at the man.

As Lachlan’s look clearly penetrated, fear skittered over the man’s face. Then the addict dredged up some bravado, spluttering as he swung the gun toward Lachlan.

Lachlan moved fast. He slammed his hand to the back of the man’s head. The man’s face smashed into the counter.

When he came up, his nose was broken and blood dripped down his face. He howled.

Ignoring him, Lachlan grabbed the gun, and thrust the side of his prosthetic palm into the man’s throat.

Gagging, the man dropped to his knees, clawing at his neck.

Lachlan looked at Ricky, who was standing there, his mouth hanging open.

“Duct tape?”

“Huh?” Ricky blinked.

“You got any duct tape?”

“Uh…yeah.” The young man fished around in a drawer, then handed a roll of silver tape to Lachlan.

With quick, practiced moves, Lachlan taped the would-be robber’s wrists and ankles together. He was sobbing now.

“Call the cops, Ricky,” Lachlan ordered.

The kid nodded jerkily and turned to the phone.

Lachlan glanced at the couple. “You guys okay?”

They both nodded, creeping forward, their gazes darting between Lachlan and the sobbing robber.

“We’re okay thanks to you,” the man said.

Lachlan lifted his chin, then glanced back at Ricky. “How much do I owe you for the beer?”

“Nothing, man. Wow, you were like—” he made a motion with his hand “—I dunno, Batman or something.”

Lachlan tried not to wince. If Blair ever heard that, she’d bust her gut laughing. “Minus the dumb mask.”

“You were so cool, dude,” Ricky breathed.

A vibration in his pocket. Lachlan pulled out his sleek, black phone. It looked like a normal cellphone but was actually satellite-equipped, plus had a few hidden extras as well. “Hunter.”

“Hey, where are you?” Blair’s throaty voice came through the line.

“Getting beer.”

“I’m at your place. We just got called in. I was close, so I volunteered to pick you up.”

Lachlan frowned. “We just got back.”

“Apparently, emergencies don’t wait for us to take time off,” Blair said dryly. “And this mission is priority.”

Shit. It was serious, then. Dreams of a quiet night and a few beers disappeared in a puff of smoke. There was a flash of blue-and-red lights outside and Lachlan saw the police cruiser pull up.

“Okay, let me deal with the police, and I’ll be back in ten.”

“Police?”

“Someone decided to rob my local convenience store.”

There was an amused snort. “They still breathing?”

“Yes, but not through his broken nose.” Lachlan shot the man a glare and he shrunk back.

“Stupid bastard,” Blair said. “The X8 is fueled and waiting for us.”

“Acknowledged. Where are we headed?” Lachlan would get a full briefing on their high-speed jet-helicopter, but he liked to be prepared.

“Northern Canada.”

Brr. “See you in ten.”

He closed the phone and watched the police officers step inside. Ricky rushed over, and launched into an excitable account of what had happened. The older officer looked at the sobbing robber, then to Lachlan.

“Military?”

“Former,” Lachlan answered. What he did now was classified.

“Special forces?”

He nodded.

“SEAL?” the officer asked.

“Marine Force Reconnaissance.” Most people lost interest after that. While they’d often heard of the exploits of Navy SEALs, Force Recon was less well known. Which was just how they liked it.

The officer’s eyes widened. “Force Recon.” Clearly, he’d heard of the Force Reconnaissance teams. “Well, thanks for not killing him.”

Lachlan quickly gave his statement, his mind already turning to his upcoming mission.

Someone out there needed him and his team. He flexed his gloved hand. It was time for Lachlan to do what he did best.