Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
“You can’t do things like that. You have to … This is professional.”
He smirks down at me. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” I say with as much force as I can despite the weakness in my knees.
“In that case, you’ll be pleased that I managed to keep this intact.” He hands me a vial, the contents already beginning to congeal.
“‘Intact’ is stretching it.” I sigh at the state of the sample. “Why can’t you give me what I need?”
One of his dark eyebrows rises, his lips twitching, the implication in the air between us.
I cough, my cheeks heating as I look away. “Never mind. Just try not to arrive shredded again.” Nope, I’m definitely not engaging the honeypot tactic. Evie will have to come up with some new espionage plan.
“I’m beginning to suspect you care about what happens to me.” He grabs his jacket from the floor.
“Just doing my job. Professional. That’s all.” I take the vial to the kitchen island and wait for him to do his disappearing act. He doesn’t disappoint, the soft whir of the elevator telling me he’s gone.
My nerves wrecked, my insides still twisting and warm, I stare at the vial and wonder where it came from. Who it came from. And will this finally be what we’ve been looking for?
15
A yawn escapes me, and I rub my eyes. My notebook is discarded on my coffee table, and I’ve spent the last half hour simply staring out my window and trying to put my chaotic thoughts into some sort of order.
We’ve worked on the new sample for three days straight, but we’ve gotten no closer to figuring out how it can help us with the virus. It seems to defy everything we know about cells.
The elevator makes its tell-tale sound, and I call, “Still nothing. If you’re bleeding again, at least have the decency to let me steal one of the used gauzes when we’re done.”
He doesn’t answer. I half expect him to fall into the room, a dagger in his back or something similarly dramatic. It’s strange how quickly I’ve adapted to this new normal. Every waking moment spent researching and conducting trials to discover the secret of Valen’s people’s blood. No contact with Juno, or Candice, or even Vince. I’m on an island, and the only visitor is Valen, the one person I’m not keen to see.
“Valen?” I realize he hasn’t answered me and lean back to peek down the hall.
I yelp when I feel a sting at my throat, then scramble to my feet.
“Doctor.” A man stands behind me, his eyes dark and hard like granite. Hair so blond it’s almost white.
“I know you.” I back up and trip over the coffee table, falling onto it. “You were with Valen at the press conference. Y-You’re—How’d you get in here?” His entire form seems to shimmer, the room going crooked. “What did you do?” I press my fingers to my throat where I felt the sting. “What …” My mouth suddenly feels stuffed with cotton. I blink, and then I’m gone.
“Ah, here she is.” A low voice, heavily accented. “I’ve wanted to meet you for quite some time, Dr. Clark.”
I open my eyes, a headache pounding deep in my skull. Cobwebs obscure my vision, and I blink several times to clear them.
A man sits across a desk from me, his dark eyes seeming to swallow the light. Pale skin, so white it’s almost sickly looking. Gray half-moons shadow the skin beneath his eyes, and the blue veins in his forehead and cheeks are so prominent that they’re distracting.
“Who are you?” My voice is hoarse as I sit up and realize I’m lying on a couch in a large, ornate room. Golden ceilings, marble floors, and huge paintings of various scenes of war along the tall walls. It’s like a room in Versailles or the Louvre. “Where am I?”
“You may call me Gregor.”
I rub my temples, my hands cold, my forehead hot. Drugged. The blond man drugged me and brought me here. Wherever here is.
He lifts one long finger, the nail sharp and yellowed. “Bring her.”
Noise behind me has me turning to see two wide doors swinging open. The gargoyles from outside the lab march in, someone held between them, their feet dragging on the ground. I know who it is in my gut.
“Juno!” I yell and try to get up, but my legs don’t hold me. I fall to the cold floor and crawl to the edge of the couch as they drag her forward.
Dropping her into a heap, the gargoyles retreat.
I crawl the rest of the way to her and pull her against me, my strength not enough to lift her into my lap. “Juno, wake up.” There’s a cut somewhere in her hairline, and her jaw bears old bruises. She’s alive, her breathing shallow and her heartbeat too fast. My eyes blur with tears as I turn her face toward me. “Juno, please.”