Page 38 of Twisted Desire

“Do you suppose we just knock on the door and ask to come in?”

“Don’t make me waste a bullet on you, Sterling,” I snap. “Quit being a smartass. We have work to do.”

He mock salutes me, and my hand goes for my gun. “Easy, kitten. I’m only trying to keep the mood light.”

“Try focusing, instead.” With a swift flick of my wrist, I break the locks off the door and toss them on the ground, hissing as the metal burns my hand. “Iron,” I growl, wiping my hand against my thigh.

“You good?” Nik checks.

“Fine,” I say as the pain fades. I pull my sleeve down to cover my hand and open the door, narrowing my eyes at the poorly lit hallway. It’s clear.

Nik tries to move around me as if he plans to go in first, but I shoot him a dark look and walk ahead. He follows close and then falls into step beside me.

We take care with each step, our eyes roaming over every inch of both sides of the hall. Our footsteps are almost silent against the light-gray linoleum floor. Oddly enough, it makes me miss my heels. I’d bet my comfortable savings account that I could fight in them, but Nikolai refused to chance it for me to look “badass and sexy.” His words—obviously.

Large windows line both sides of the hall, looking into rooms that each have the same creepy set-up of machines and computers and a surgical table in the middle. I swallow the bile burning my throat and wipe the sweat from my brow. This place looks just like what it is: a twisted research lab. My stomach coils at the thought.

Max died in one of these places. I lost my best friend because of these monsters. They’re hateful beings using their fear of us to justify mass torture and murder. My head is spinning so fast I’m half concerned I’ll empty my stomach in the middle of whatever fight we’re about to get into.

I shake my head and force my legs to keep moving forward.

The voices get louder the closer to the front end of the hall we get. Stopping in front of another solid iron door, I can make out most of what they’re saying now. A male is speaking, talking about targeting a city in the States with a large fae population. The name sounds familiar. It’s definitely one of the places our team has visited to recruit allies, and now The Experiment is targeting it.

Anger bubbles in my chest, and my hand moves on its own, wrapping around the hilt of the knife strapped to my thigh. I want nothing more than to burst into the room and attack. Evidently, I’m not doing a good job hiding my emotions because Nikolai presses his hand into the small of my back, shaking his head when I whip my head around to glare at him. It’s a warning, a reminder that we need the element of surprise.

“Stick to the plan,” he says in a soft tone.

I force out a breath. “Fine. We’re here for information, but so help me, if it comes down to it, I’ll protect myself—and you—over preserving the lives of these people.”

“Fair enough.”

I inhale slowly, meeting his gaze. “Ready?”

“Try not to have too much fun in there,” he says with a wry grin.

“Touché,” I remark in a dry tone.

I’m reaching for the door when we both freeze at the sound of breathing behind us. We turn at the same time, immediately poised for a fight, only to find a single, young-looking guy glaring at us with his arms crossed. There’s a gun strapped to his waist, no doubt filled with iron bullets, and a deep scowl on his lips.

Nik and I exchange a quick glance before looking back at the boy who is inching closer. He still hasn’t said a word when he stops a few feet from us.

The boy with the black hair blinks at Nikolai. He swallows hard and says, “Dad?”

10

“What the fuck?” I mutter, my gaze swinging to Nikolai to find his face drained of color. “Nik?”

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t acknowledge that I spoke. His eyes are glued to the boy in front of us, and his posture is ramrod straight.

“Nikolai,” I hiss.

Finally, he turns his face toward me, and my stomach drops. He’s never looked vulnerable in the time I’ve known him—until this moment. The air around him is inky, swirling with uncertainty and fear. Considering how terrified he looks standing in front of the boy now, it’s safe to say Nik didn’t know about him. Or the kid’s lying.

“Nikolai Sterling,” the boy says.

I look at him again, my eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you?” I demand.

He ignores me, focusing his attention on Nikolai as he uncrosses his arms, letting them fall to his sides. “You look different than the photos they showed me. Older,” he blinks, “harsher.”

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