Page 33 of Fuse

Which, despite the Tweety Bird light show still circling in my senses, hones my thoughts back in on the curiosities that do matter here.

What the hell is going on with Alighieri? Has Kane been “inspired” to do all this—or compelled?

Is he following Faline’s orders—or acting beneath her control?

Needing those answers isn’t an opt-out clause. So yeah, pancaking the big guy back down to prone position doesn’t just serve my wrath—though that’s a damn good start, especially when my imagination feeds me the rest of my nightmare on a custom platter.

And in my mind, I’m right back at the ridge again. Witnessing it all, helpless and motionless, again.

With the house still burning, Faline makes Mom and Emma watch while her guys cart the others away, bound for their journey to Spain and the Source’s torture chambers. Or maybe they won’t bother with the effort and simply execute everyone. But the two most important women in my life will be spared, at least for a little while. Faline will want to play with her food first.

And I know firsthand what that bitch considers “playtime.”

My roar doesn’t stay confined to my chest. I punctuate the burst with intentional snarls as the frustration and fury become an electric fever, burning my nerves and empowering my muscles. With a satisfied grunt, I lodge my knees into the crooks of Kane’s elbows. With an equal economy of motion, I lodge one hand at the center of his throat. At the same time, I part my lips to expose the full snarl of my determination. The extra intensity will be needed if the guy opens his eyes back up…

And looks exactly like this.

“Christ,” I mutter, despite expecting it. Despite being prepared to face him like this, all but wired to detonate on impact, with his locked and seething teeth, wide and pumping nostrils, and eyes…

Shit.

His eyes have gone fluorescent white, glowing like a pair of nuclear reactors. The irises pulse neon purple and blue. His lashes have turned into iridescent LED strands.

“My friend.” I need to say it, to confirm that I still see it. Even just faintly. I have to know he’s still in there somewhere. To know that in a different time and place, all of this might even be comical. I’d tease him about how pretty he is. Goddamnit, Mitch would even be jealous that he was the one to get all the good bling.

In a different time and place.

Much different.

But in this one, all I can do is grate it out again. “My friend.” And then utter, barely pushing breath beneath it, “What the hell has she done to you?”

And yeah, I realize that, because he’s the robot being worked by Faline’s joystick, she may even have just heard me ask that. Weirdly, there’s a part of me that hopes she has. If the bitch really is playing with her fun Kane-bot, maybe she’s not focusing on destroying everything out at the ridge.

With that damn fine motivation, I fight her even harder.

By fighting him even harder.

I shove my knees down harder and twist my hand tighter. There’s a gurgle of breath in the windpipe I compress, but I’m not stopping. Goddamnit. You have to stop. But as a long, savoring laugh makes its way around my hold, Kane’s proud bass raped by Faline’s salient purr, I’m filled with nothing but the drive to shut it off. To shut her down.

No. You’re better than this. You’re better than her.

On a vicious bellow, I ease back on the choke but fortify the lock of my knees, expecting Kane to cough from the infusion of air. When he barely gets out a wheeze, I’m surprised for all of two seconds. If the bitch really is controlling him somehow, this is exactly what I expect from her. What I should never stop expecting—especially as Kane’s eyes glow brighter and his rough gasp gives way to a gloating laugh.

“What’s she done to me?” he finally drawls, sounding like his throat is lined with two inches of nicotine. “Not half of what she still wants to do to you, man. What she’s damned and determined to do with you, Alpha Two.”

Straw. Camel’s back. My conscience. My control.

My hand, which I willfully close back in while savoring the vengeance I’ve dreamed about for so long. The chance to break those bastards’ bonds. To squeeze the lifeblood out of them the same way they drained it from me and replaced it with a mutant monster. Alpha Two.

No, damn it!

Better. Than. This.

Better. Than. Her.

But there’s nothing left of the better me to listen. Nothing inside but an animal that’s grabbed the keys to the cage, breaking out and breaking down, seething and snarling. “How do you like your Alpha goddamned Two now, you bitch?”

Beneath my hand, Kane’s veins pulse brighter shades of purple and blue. Airways work to swallow and breathe, but I don’t let them, cutting my clutch deeper into them. And holy fuck, does it feel good. Better and better with every passing second.