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Oz studied the cage, face drawn in thought. “He would.” A pause. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Take your time.” I said, rattling the chain. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded, leaving the lab before I could stop him. “Oz,” I shouted after him, desperate to keep him in sight. He either ignored me or didn’t hear. Hopefully, he wasn’t heading toward Keaton, whether or not he’d managed to escape.

All I needed was for Oz to unchain me. Then I’d find a weapon and get close enough to take him down. He had to sleep. Even a psychopath had to close their eyes at some point, and once he did… I spent the next ten minutes dreaming of all the different weapons I might use to dispatch him. Anything but look at the photos.

People like Oz weren’t new to me. I’d met broken minds before, but never while chained and helpless. The photos confirmed I’d been right to give Keaton a shot at escape. Without immunity, he’d be another grim picture on Oz’s wall. If I died here, at least I could take that to the grave with me.

An hour crawled by before Oz’s footsteps sounded in the corridor. Faster than usual. Closer to a run than a walk. I knew two things from his thunderous expression when he burst into the lab. Keaton had escaped, and he knew I’d helped him. Relief and dread crashed together in my chest.

The relief vanished when I saw the scalpel in Oz’s hand. I stood as he closed in on me, the chain pulling taut. He slashed at me, forcing me to dance backwards if I didn’t want him to slice through my skin like it was butter.

“You,” he spat, fury twisting his features. “You took my keys, and you gave them to him. You don’t want to be my friend. You lied. You’re working against me.”

My gaze stayed locked on the scalpel, preparing myself for another attack. “He was dangerous,” I said. “He used to be a soldier. They’re sneaky. They attack when you least expect it. I was worried about you. I thought he might hurt you. It’s better for us both if he’s no longer here. Safer.” The lies tumbled off my tongue, but none landed.

Sweat stood out on Oz’s forehead, his fingers wrapped so tightly around the scalpel they’d gone white. “I needed him.”

“You don’t,” I urged. “You’ve had plenty of others. Robert, Benjamin…” I gestured weakly toward the photos. “The rest.”

His expression cracked. “I didn’t catch Robert. Robert was my brother. He didn’t understand. Nobody understands.”

Bile rose. I forced it down. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t. You’re pretending to understand. You just say what you think I want to hear. I only listened because you’re pretty. But I’m not stupid. You might think I am, but I’m not.”

“No one said you were stupid―”

I knew as soon as Oz’s face twisted into a grotesque mask that it was the wrong thing to say. It made him look older, crueler. He jabbed the scalpel toward the cage. “He did. He said he wished he’d squirted in my mum’s throat rather than her pussy, that it would have saved the world from having to put up with me. He thought my experiments were stupid, that they’d never lead to a cure.”

Every instinct screamed agreement, but self-preservation kept my expression neutral. “Parents can be cruel. Families are like that. He didn’t know what he was talking about.”

“You’re doing it again,” Oz hissed.

“Doing what?” My heart hammered so hard I felt it in my throat.

“Saying what I want to hear.”

“I’m not. It’s the truth.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Those four words packed quite a punch. As did the scalpel blade that came to rest at the pulse point of my throat. Any slight movement would slice me open. And given Oz’s love of dissection, there was no doubt in my mind he’d do it. His eyes were cold, like he’d stopped seeing me as a human being. “Remember, I’m immune,” I blurted. “You need me.”

His brow furrowed as if he’d forgotten. Slowly, he nodded. “I need you to cure my father, so he can tell me how wrong he was. Once he’s cured and he can talk again, he’ll tell me how grateful he is, how proud. And then…” His smile turned chilling. “Then I can kill him. Slowly and painfully.”

The cage made sense now. It was revenge. “So you need me,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “The key to curing him is in my blood, remember? You said yourself that I was the first immune to cross your path. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then take the scalpel away. We can come up with a plan together.” More revenge. First Keaton. Now Oz. Was that what was missing in my life? That there was no one I needed to cut into tiny pieces for crimes against my person.

“The problem is the talking,” Oz said softly. “The lies come from the talking.”

“No more lies,” I lied. “I promise. Only the truth from now on.”

The blade slid upward, tracing an ominous line against my sweat-soaked skin. Cheek. Ear. Jaw. A caress—that was far from it.