“Unlock the chains!” Cain demanded. “Or watch her die.”
When there was no response, his next words cut like a knife. “I can guarantee you, Wyatt, she won’t come back.”
No, she wouldn’t.
“She can be replaced,” was Wyatt’s calm-as-you please response. “You can’t.”
Eve kicked back, knocking right into Cain’s shins. The guy didn’t so much as grunt.
“Unlock the chains.” Cain’s fingers tightened around her throat.
So much for trust. So much for it being them against Wyatt. So much for—
A faint hiss began to fill the room.
“Fuck,” Cain growled.
She looked up, trying to track that hiss. There were small vents near the top of the ceiling. Was—was air coming in? No, not air, gas.
“You remember our second experiment, don’t you?” Wyatt’s voice asked. So mellow. So . . . emotionless as his words drifted over the intercom. “I wanted to see if you could revive from poisonous gas.”
Eve began to choke. She shoved her fingers into her pocket, pulled them back out, and began to claw at the hand around her throat—and that tight lock that surrounded Cain’s wrist.
“The longer you hold her, the more you ensure she dies,” Wyatt promised. “Because you’re the one who’s making her inhale the poison.”
Cain spun her around. She kept clawing at the chain. Only . . . she wasn’t really clawing. She was doing her damnedest to pick the lock without Wyatt realizing what she was up to.
Unfortunately, she was starting to lose control of her fingers. They were fumbling, the coordination slipping from her as the poison filled her lungs. She was trying not to breathe, but . . .
Her knees began to buckle.
Cain caught her. Lifted her into his arms.
“Do you want her to die?” Wyatt asked.
Cain stared down at her. Such a hard face. She’d wanted to help him. Needed to.
There were more than enough sins on her soul. One good deed. One person saved. It wouldn’t have tipped the scales, but it would have counted for something.
Cain kissed her.
It was the last thing Eve expected, but his lips, warm, firm, came down on hers, and—he blew lightly into her mouth. Just a small breath of air, but it seemed to push back the growing cobwebs in her mind.
Her fingers started to work faster on that lock.
He kept kissing her. Lightly moving his mouth against hers. Sharing his breath with her.
She felt the give in the lock. One wrist would be free. One . . .
The hissing grew louder.
More gas.
Cain lifted his head. “I knew that I’d like the way you taste.”
She was only upright because of his grip on her body.
His eyes narrowed. “I’ll want more.”
His fingers caught hers. It looked like he was holding her. But . . . he was taking the lock pick from her.
Then he lifted her up against his chest. One arm looped under her knees. One slipped under her head.
“Don’t die on me.” His order. So soft she might have imagined it. He got as close as he could to the door. The chain stretched behind him, stopping him from taking any more steps. “Get her out!”
The door didn’t open.
“Get. Her. Out!”
Her lungs were burning, her whole body aching.
“Now I think we understand each other better . . .” Wyatt said, and even with her thoughts getting hazy, there was no missing the guy’s smug satisfaction.
The door slid open. Hands reached for Eve. Yanked her out. She glanced back and managed to lock her eyes on Cain.
She saw the rage on his face. The wild fury.
Then the door closed.
Eve tried to suck in air as quickly and deeply as she could. Her mind seemed foggy, her movements too slow, but she had to say . . . “T-turn off . . . gas . . .” They’d left it running. There was no need now, no . . .
Wyatt crouched before her. “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.” The faint smirk on his lips belied the false sorrow. “Once the system activates, there’s no way to stop the gas.”
No way—she grabbed him and smashed his perfect white shirt in her fists. “Help . . . him . . .” She choked a bit as she fought to drag in clear oxygen.
Two guards pulled her off him.
Wyatt straightened his shirt. “Don’t worry. We already know the gas only kills Thirteen for a little while.”
She jerked against the guards. Her mind was clearing, her body growing strong again, but the hands holding her just tightened. They led her back to the observation area. Back to that damn two-way mirror.
More gas pumped in. More. Cain stood in the middle of the room, shoulders back, and his eyes—his eyes were focused only on her.
I’m sorry. This time, she was the one to silently offer the words. Her lips moved, but no sound emerged.
A muscle jerked in his jaw.
“He’s withstanding the gas for a longer period of time. He should have been on his knees by this point.” Wyatt sounded so damn clinical.
“You’re a . . . sick ass**le . . .” she managed. Her body wasn’t back to normal, not yet, and talking required some serious effort.
He smiled. “And you’re not who you claim to be, Dr. Bradley.”
Screw him. Like she had to explain herself to him.
“But I knew you weren’t the real deal from the first moment you stepped into the facility.”
How had he known that? Her cover should have been perfect. She’d sweat blood making that cover.
Eve pulled her gaze off Cain and glared at the doctor. “Then why . . . let me stay? Why show . . . me—”
“Subject Thirteen?”
“His name’s . . . Cain!” Not just a number, dammit.
“Because I knew once you came to Genesis, you wouldn’t be leaving.” He inclined his head toward the guards. “And I’d hoped to be able to use you.”
Use her?
“It looks like you’ll be more beneficial than I ever hoped.”
The guards began to pull her away from the observation mirror.
She dug in her heels, fighting. Cain—he was dropping to his knees. His head sagging.
“I’m surprised he didn’t kill you.” The psychotic doc appeared puzzled. “Especially so soon after a change.”
Cain’s body hit the floor.
No.
She didn’t realize she’d screamed until Wyatt heaved out a sigh. “Don’t be so dramatic. I told you . . . the gas won’t kill him for long.”