Page 83 of Fuse

“Hmmm. Now look at that,” the bitch drawls as my friend gasps and gags for air. “And I thought you were the go-to boy of Team Bolt.”

I’ve never been more thrilled to welcome a surge of rage to my blood before. I let the floodgates slam wide, every drop rushing and blasting, the inferno consuming me faster than a smoldering log tossed into a drought-ravaged ravine. Growing me. Empowering me. Incinerating every last speck of fear in me—until I clench the Glock harder than I can imagine. I point it steady and true now, tracking the barrel with the back of the bitch’s head as she leans over Angelique, her ink-thick waterfall of hair brushing over Angie’s mottled dome and downturned cheek.

“Stop it!” My snarl lays on top of Angie’s taut sobs and Wade’s heartbreaking chokes. Sounding and feeling just as useless as both. “Let them go, damn it, or I’ll…”

“What?” Faline croons it while tracing one of Angelique’s electric trails with a shiny red fingernail. “Tell me, little rabbit.” She deliberately taunts out that last word, slanting a preening glance over her shoulder. “I really do want to know.”

I curl my finger tighter against the trigger.

Tighter.

One instant. One snick. She’ll be gone. Angelique will be free. Wade will be free.

Reece will be free.

But I can’t squeeze any more. No matter how hard I clench my muscles or how thoroughly I focus my resolve, my finger’s frozen where it is. If I let go of the gun at this very moment, I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole thing simply hung from my immovable digit.

“Oh, my God.”

But my rasp isn’t quiet enough. The bitch has heard me and unfurls a smooth laugh to match her satiny rise—and then the slick curl of her hand, right before the adroit snap of her fingers.

Spearing pain into everything from my ribs down.

No. It’s more than a spear. It’s a gash of agony and then a twist of evisceration, followed by an infusion of ice so dire, the torture feels more like a burn than a freeze. Yet when I lower my head, hating yet needing to behold the damage, there’s not one rip in my dress or drop of blood marring my middle. With my free hand, I grab the area over my navel. Everything is intact to my touch, though the movement brings worse torment. It feels like I’ve just grabbed my intestines and yanked them out of my body.

“Well.” Faline sweeps around and then cocks out a hip, appraising me as if she’s eyeing a horse for auction. “Aren’t you so special too, chiquita? But of course, we already know that, do we not?”

She steps over to jerk on my chin, pivoting my head from side to side and smiling softly while taking in my wobbling jaw and tear-streaked face. “Pain is quite an alluring look for you, I think. Hmmm.” Her dark gaze narrows. “I should have considered that angle before—though in New York, I hardly had the resources that are available here. And sí, I must also admit, back then, I never thought that you would last.”

I blink hard. Pledge not to reveal that the new pain she delivers is so intense, I’m now seeing two of her—though there’s a damn good chance she’s already figuring it out. “Th-That I would l-l-last…h-h-how?”

“Oh, come now.” Her smile returns, borne on a pair of saucy clucks. “We selected Reece for the program for very special reasons, you know. His virility made him infamous. Even when he escaped, we considered that aspect of his enhancement an interesting experiment. What kind of impact would his seed bear when sown among a variety of females?” Her cluck deepens into a sound of assessment. “We anticipated most would not survive, of course—but science comes at a price, you know.”

“No,” I spit. “I don’t know.”

“Well, obviously.” When she punctuates herself with a long velvet laugh, only to see I’m not sharing the joke, she explicates, “What we did not anticipate, darling, was you.”

Deep frown. “Me? How?”

“You and your…stamina, Emmalina.” She rakes me from head to toe with a stare that has me sympathizing with a pinned butterfly. “Do you not see? You are still here, chiquita. Not only still alive, after clearly letting the man fuck you repeatedly and with such force and passion. After all this time…”

Her gaze gains a weird gleam, tempting me to let out a full scream—though I already feel as if I’m being strangled by barbed wire. But even if I really were, she wouldn’t get the satisfaction from me. I swear it to myself, even when she releases her hold on Angie and Wade and motions for a couple of her henchmen to drag them away. As they go, she calls out, “Muchos gracias for the gift, my Angelique. Oh, yes, yes.” Her voice returns to its assessing murmur as she impales me with a more clinical air. “This is going to be such fun, little rabbit!”

“Go…fuck yourself,” I spit past teeth that taste like chalk, from a throat as dry as that chalk dust.

“Thank you, darling. Perhaps later, if no better offers come along. But right now, I am having so much fun fucking with you.”

And nausea was just what my gut needed right now.

Everything hurts. It hurts so much.

The only consolation I cling to in the middle of this madness is that Reece is still lost to the darkness of his coma and doesn’t have any consciousness to attach to any thoughts of me. No shred of our electric connection. No sixth sense to reach out to me or comprehend any part of this surreal sadism the woman is inflicting on me…

How?

How the hell is she really altering my will, controlling my actions?

At last she releases my chin with a sharp push and then backs off by a few elegant steps. “Do you know, little rabbit pellet, how pathetically easy it is to dither with you?” She rocks her head back. Releases an airy scoff while waving a hand with equally frothy laxity. “I do not even need a remote control for most of your kind. What do you basic humans find so fascinating about each other?”