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He’s wearing a patch over one eye, has several new scars, has aged a decade in two years, but it’s him.
“Victor,” I whisper under my breath.
He eyes me, studying me like he’s waiting on me to make a move. Hell, I can’t even breathe, let alone move.
“Welcome home, Leah. Nice to see you again.”
Someone grabs me by the arm and yanks me into the factory. I almost fall but manage to right myself as the militant style army surrounds me, bumping into me, moving me deeper into the facility.
“What’s going on?” I yell, hoping Victor hasn’t gone crazy enough to hurt me. “Where’s Aunt Masie?!”
There’s no way in hell she’d be a part of this.
The warehouse is an open layout full of forgotten, dusty articles such as old generators and conveyors. Several large crates are stacked along the walls, carrying more dust than a grave.
It’s the perfect spot to host an army of silent, lethal killers.
“Think they’ll really come, sir?” a guy beside Victor says as someone points a freaking gun at me. What the hell?
Bullets… Zee said he was bulletproof, which means I am. But they also said the anointed had bullets… Which means we’re not bulletproof. Right? Shit. I wish I knew what kind of bullets were in those guns. This is not what I expected to walk in on.
I’m so stupid.
I was supposed to be caught by people who were crazy and stupid. Not cold and calculated like Victor. I was supposed to be caught by people who didn’t know me and would easily underestimate me.
Victor is paranoid, and there’s no tel
ling how long I’m about to be locked up, because he overcompensates. Or worse, how long I won’t be locked up…
Victor’s eyes meet mine, and his gaze narrows. “She has the stench of them all over her. I can smell it. They’ll come. She’s fucking at least one of them.”
My brow furrows in confusion, but a little bit of hope fills me. He can smell me. He can’t see me… He can’t see what I’ve become.
Maybe this can work after all.
“You can smell me?” I ask, deciding to stall for a new plan and probe for information at the same time.
“It’s how my bloodline works,” he says dismissively. He walks over to me as I stand in a half circle with four guns pointed at me, all of them daring me to make a move so they can turn me into a sponge.
“When did you turn?” he asks, still watching me with guarded eyes as he steps closer.
It takes all my strength to hold back the horrifying sense of panic that tries to ensue.
“How do you know I did?”
His lips twitch, and he holds up an amulet. “This alerts me to the presence of one of our kind. It guides me. Nifty little thing, isn’t it?”
Shaky breaths expel from my lungs as I slowly relax. He’s talking about me turning into an anointed. Holy shit. I thought he knew what else I was.
Still trying to keep my composure, I ask, “Now I’m your captive?”
“Now you’re bait. I knew you’d come. You were always too damn soft. The second you heard people were dying, you’d come running. Leah Cartwright—the sweet, tender-hearted little runner.”
He rolls his eyes while signing something to a guy. The guy signs back to him, and they have a silent conversation they obviously don’t want me to eavesdrop on. I hadn’t prepared for that either.
“This amulet,” he goes on, turning back to face me, “has led me to find so many of our kind who have become active. Each one has a signature. The second it lit up like a white light, I knew exactly who it was. No one else has the amount of power inside them that your blood does.”
He spits those last words out like they’re bitter. “But you’re all tainted. Every one of you.”
