Page 1 of Hunted to Be Mine
Chapter 1
Selina
The retinal scanner’s red beam stung my eye, and I bit back the familiar curse. Fourth verification today. Each one deeper than the last, as if SENTINEL’s security systems were digging to verify I was still human.
“Identity confirmed: Dr. Selina Crawford. Clearance Level Six. Access granted.”
Level Six. In three years of consulting for SENTINEL, I’d never been cleared past Level Four. Whatever waited beyond these barriers had them desperate enough to break their own protocols.
Colored spots popped at the edges of my vision as I blinked. My fingertips found the familiar pressure point at my temple, a useless attempt to soothe the burning that always followed these deep verifications. The heavy barrier slid open with a pneumatic hiss, the kind that says keep moving.
The corridor beyond stretched in clinical sterility. No windows. No visible exits except the way I’d come. The wallsswallowed sound. Professional habit logged it all in three seconds: twelve cameras, overlapping fields of coverage, blind spot near the third entrance on the left, too small to be useful. Two guards, non-standard weapons with modifications that suggested they expected to face more than a drunk trespasser.
“Dr. Crawford.” The guard’s tone was professionally neutral, but her palm rested on that modified weapon. “Arms out, please.”
The device she ran along my body was military-grade, the kind that could detect explosive residue at the molecular level. It beeped at my right ankle.
“Titanium pin. Childhood accident.”
She finally waved me through, though her gaze tracked me until I rounded the corner.
“Selina!”
My body tightened before recognition hit, weight shifting to the balls of my feet. Dr. Mattie Prieto burst through a security entrance like she was being chased, lab coat billowing, coffee stains on her sleeve, and that wild energy that had made her the youngest neuroscientist SENTINEL had ever recruited.
“Jesus, Mattie.” My shoulders gradually relaxed, though the adrenaline dump left my fingers trembling. “A little warning?”
She pulled me into a fierce hug that smelled of espresso and the vanilla lotion she’d worn since grad school. “Three months of radio silence and that’s my greeting?”
The embrace surprised me with how much I’d missed her. We’d been close once, before SENTINEL had classified her work beyond my clearance level. “You’re the one who disappeared into the black site void. How’s the mystery project?”
Her laugh came too quick, too bright. “You know I can’t…” She glanced at the guards, then linked her arm through mine, grip tighter than casual. “God, I’ve missed you. How was Columbia? Standing room only for your lecture series, I heard.”
”’Breaking the Unbreakable Mind’ has a certain appeal to academics who’ve never seen real conditioning.” I studied her features, noting the shadows under her lashes, her constant checking over her shoulder. “Though I doubt Director Dawson called me here to discuss cognitive theory.”
At Dawson’s name, the guards straightened imperceptibly. Even three levels deep in SENTINEL’s maze, the Director cast a long shadow.
“Always so direct.” Her smile didn’t reach those tired eyes. “Remember Bangalore? When we spent three days analyzing cult programming on nothing but curry and espresso?”
“You fell asleep standing up during the final presentation.”
“And you covered for me without missing a beat.” Her expression softened for a moment. “We made a good team.”
“We still would if SENTINEL hadn’t poached you for whatever classified nightmare has you this spooked.”
She flinched. Really flinched.
“Mattie, what the hell is going on?”
“It’s not…” She stopped, pulled me closer. “This isn’t like the other cases, Selina. The asset we’re holding… Dawson pulled strings that shouldn’t exist to get you here this fast.”
“Asset?” My tone stayed level, but a cold line ran along my back. SENTINEL’s terminology was specific. Subjects were victims. Suspects were criminals. Assets were weapons.
Before she could answer, footsteps approached from behind: measured, deliberate, designed to announce presence. I turned, positioning myself to keep both the newcomer and Mattie in view.
Chief Damon Seok stepped out of the shadow. Six-foot-three of controlled violence in a tactical uniform that did nothing to civilize what he was. South Korean features carved sharp enough to cut, eyes like dark glass. I’d worked with dangerous menbefore. Seok was something else, danger distilled and leashed, but only barely.
“Dr. Prieto. Dr. Crawford.” His accent was subtle, barely there. His gaze lingered on Mattie a fraction too long, something almost human showing before he locked it down. “Commander Dawson wants Dr. Crawford to proceed directly to initial assessment.”
