“They thought they were so clever, the two of them. Stealing research, corrupting formulas. Destroying data that would take years to recreate.” Lewis shook his head. “Your sister could have saved easily thousands of human lives through her formula for Serenicure-L. Her blood was the missing piece to a final cure for the global problem of the Breed. It’s something we’ve been trying to develop for decades, starting with my father’s work some twenty-odd years ago.”
His father? And then it dawned on her—the reason his name sounded vaguely familiar.
Owen Lewis was Dr. Henry Lewis’s son.
The same Dr. Lewis whose research Laurel had mentioned was the starting point for the Serenicure project. The same Dr. Lewis that Razor had said once served an even bigger monster named Dragos.
“My father never got the chance to develop his work to its fullest potential. If he had, he might have eradicated the Breed from existence long before now. Instead, it’s my turn to make that dream a reality. I couldn’t allow your sister or her boyfriend to stand in my way.”
Willow’s shallow breath raced as he spoke. Owen Lewis was mad, clearly. He was a homicidal lunatic and because of her stupid pride being wounded by Razor’s rejection, she had walked right into this maniac’s hands today.
What was worse, however—infinitely worse than her looming death—was the horror of realizing what he intended to do with all the blood he was draining from her veins.
“Laurel thought she had outsmarted me,” he continued, reaching up to adjust a setting on one of the monitors above her head. “She thought she had destroyed all of the Serenicure-L specimens, but we still had a small sample in reserve. Enough that we didn’t need to bother with a traitorous colleague who should’ve known better than to bite her master’s hand. We were working to synthesize Laurel’s blood so we could begin manufacturing the formula on a larger scale when it came to our attention that she had an identical twin.” He smiled a serpent’s smile. “Such a fortuitous discovery, don’t you think? Your blood is about to save UWSI a great deal of effort, time, and money. Eventually, it will also return our planet to where it belongs—under human control. Your blood and Serenicure will finally mean the end of the Breed on Earth.”
Rage erupted inside her. As futile as it was, she bucked and thrashed against the leather restraints pinning her down.
The monitors bleated in protest as her heart rate spiked and adrenaline surged through her veins in what was likely a last burst of energy. Weakness from her blood loss left her sagging onto the hard mattress, her lungs burning with each hitching breath she took.
Lewis frowned at her now, looking agitated for the first time since she’d opened her eyes and saw his inhuman face.
“You’ve pulled some of the leads loose, you stupid girl.” He was none too gentle as he fixed the problems, his brows furrowed over those cold eyes of his. Splashes of blood marred his white lab coat from where her IVs had come undone. “Perhaps I will sedate you for the remainder of our time together. We can’t have any of your blood going to waste now, can we.”
He made an adjustment to one of the monitors, and the room began to darken all around her.
CHAPTER 30
Razor’s search of the building netted him floor after floor of frustration—and fear.
No sign of Willow, despite his bone-deep certainty that she was there . . . somewhere.
His bond to her had been fading by the minute but as he raced through some empty offices on the twenty-third floor, he felt a surge of life flood into his veins. The sensation was short and sharp, a jab of panic laced with the bitter tang of adrenaline.Hers.
Goddamn them. What were they doing to her?
Focusing his senses on the feel of Willow in his blood, he honed in with everything he had. The bond was weakening, but he wasn’t about to let it slip out of his grasp.
And then, he knew.
Willow was on one of the higher floors.
Holy hell. He could only be moments away from her.
“Hey!” A deep male voice called out from behind him. “I’m talking to you, asshole.”
Razor swiveled his head as a tall, menacing looking guy in a dark suit stepped out of the open elevator to approach him at an aggressive pace. He carried himself like a military man, with a wireless communication device in one ear and an assortment of weapons barely concealed under his unbuttoned jacket.
Private security, no doubt.
“What the fuck are you doing up here?” the guard demanded.
The man’s eyes widened when he realized what Razor was. If he’d been smart he would have pivoted right around and got the hell out of there. Instead, he reached for one of the semiautomatic pistols holstered on his hip.
Razor leapt at him.
His rage over whatever was happening to Willow left him with no mercy. The guard tried to scramble back into the elevator, but his human reflexes were too slow. Razor took him down halfway inside the lift, grasping his head between his taloned hands and twisting the muscled neck as though it were nothing but a twig.
Rising up off the corpse, he was about to step off the elevator when his gaze caught on the numbered panel near the doors. There were buttons for all twenty-nine floors, with the top floor designated with the letters PH.
