Burn For Me (Phoenix Fire #1)(77)

But he wasn’t looking at her. He’d grabbed the table—no, not a table, a gurney—that held Trace’s body, and he was shoving that body right toward the open furnace. A big, giant furnace with a gaping mouth and flames burning inside. The thing looked like what she’d seen inside a crematorium once.

Not the nicest memory.

“Stop!” Eve screamed, lifting her gun. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He ignored her. He was too busy panting and shoving that gurney. Trying to dump Trace’s body in the fire. “Have to … destroy … before … monster wakes …”

No. Eve lunged for him and swung the butt of the gun at the man’s head. There was a loud thud as the weapon made contact.

The guy fell to the ground, his body sprawling in a limp heap.

Eve stepped around him and yanked the gurney away from those dancing flames. She grabbed the sheet and tossed it aside. “Trace?” Bullet holes covered his chest. So much silver. She could smell it all around him. Silver and blood.

Holding her breath, Eve put her fingers to his throat. Was there a pulse there? Or was it just her imagination? Her gaze flew around the room. There—a tray of instruments. She rushed to them, dropping her gun on the nearest countertop. She’d get the gleaming tweezers and pull out the silver bullets, or what was left of them. Werewolves always healed better once the silver left their bodies.

She curled her fingers over the tweezers, sent the other instruments scattering, then heard a screech of sound behind her.

Eve spun around. The gurney had flown across the room and crashed into the wall and Trace—Trace was on his feet. Still bloody, but standing on trembling legs.

“Trace!”

His head snapped up at her call, and his eyes locked right on her.

She’d never seen such fury in his stare before. So much blind rage and hate. It all seemed to be directed right at her. “Trace, I’m sorry,” Eve whispered.

There was no recognition in his eyes. Just more fury. He charged for her, and claws burst from his fingertips.

Eve leaped back from his attack. Her fingers flew over the instruments. She grabbed a scalpel. The gun was too far away. “Trace?” Her fingers curled tightly around the weapon, but Eve didn’t think she could use it. He had been hurt so much already because of her, she didn’t want to do anything else to him.

His hand closed around her throat. He lifted her into the air, and her feet kicked uselessly.

Then he smiled at her, a cold, cruel smile that flashed his fangs, and fear iced her heart.





Wyatt hunched over his desk. It was only a matter of time, just a few more moments.

And his prey would be coming to him.

He couldn’t look eager. Couldn’t even look aware. But he was ready. So were the guards who waited in the next room. As soon as the sensor alarm was triggered in his office, those guards would leap out and attack.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew Cain wouldn’t be held back for long. He also knew the phoenix wasn’t just going to run away with his tail between his legs. No, the phoenix would be coming right inside the lab.

I’m ready.

He didn’t need Cain any longer. The man was a threat that had to be eliminated. Luckily, Wyatt knew just how to reach the phoenix’s vulnerable spot. Eve was the key, a weapon that, with time and care, could be molded and used most effectively.

But he didn’t have time for her training. Not then. He did have a backup plan. Another who could kill Cain. Another who would … for the promise of freedom.

Wyatt kept his back to the door as he pulled a small mask over his nose and mouth. Anyone coming from behind wouldn’t see that mask. A fatal mistake.

Cain’s mistake.

The door hissed open behind him. Such a soft, silent sound. If he’d been a normal human, he would have missed that telling noise. Thanks to his father, Wyatt was far from normal.

And I’ve got the scars to prove it.

The floor creaked beneath his would-be attacker’s feet. He let himself smile. Just a little closer … just a little closer …

Wyatt pushed the button under his desk, and the door to his office slid closed, sealing the attacker inside with him. He raised his hand to hold the mask in place and spun to face Cain. “Your mistake, phoenix—”

Cain wasn’t there.

Ryder stood a few feet away, his fangs out.

“W-what—”

No, that wasn’t the plan. Gas fell through the slats in the ceiling, but it had never affected Ryder. The vampire was too old, far too powerful, and only a stake or fire could take him out.

We’d thought he was just a changed human. When Ryder had first been targeted, their intel had been off. Ryder wasn’t easy prey. Far from it.

He was the f*cking king of the vampires. Maybe the first one ever born.

The door to the right slid open. Wyatt’s guards rushed out, just as he’d planned.

Ryder killed all five of them instantly, then dropped their bodies to the ground. Their blood covered his shirt, his hands, his chin.

The gas continued to leak into the room.

Taking his time, Ryder closed in. “You have something of mine, Wyatt” he said, snapping his teeth together, “and I want her back.”



She couldn’t breathe. Eve clawed at Trace’s fingers with her left hand even as she used her right hand to stab him with the scalpel—sorry, Trace, sorry!—but he wouldn’t let her go. Dark spots danced before her eyes. His claws were cutting into her skin. She couldn’t suck in a breath. As she fought him, Eve could hear the pounding of her own blood, echoing and throbbing in her ears.