There are five of us, but we have a plan. We can get rid of the bars on the doors, we think. We haven’t dared to test yet, but if we can, we’ll go out through the south-facing doors. It’s easier to move through the laboratory; there’s a little less security because the cameras are angled wrong. Once we make it to the surface we can head for the electric fence that’s about two miles from us. The woods are dense and there’s water. They have dogs, but a couple of the women can control them. Don’t do anything until we’re ready. I won’t leave anyone behind.

Well you make certain they’re ready to go, because when I come to get you, you’ll be coming out with me one way or another.

Mari opened her eyes and stared up at the bright light, trying not to smile again. He had that edgy command in his voice, the one that brooked no argument, the one that said he was the boss and she’d better damn well fall in line. He made her heart beat faster and her blood rush through her veins. Her temperature went up a couple of degrees every time he pulled the caveman routine. She liked him worried and edgy and ready to tear down the laboratory to get to her—and that told how far gone she was.

“Very good, Mari,” Dr. Prauder said. “We’re finished.” He signaled Sean, and the guard came forward and removed the straps from her arms and legs and handed her the gown.

She refused to look at him. They’re taking me back to my room. Thank you, Ken. I don’t know what I would have done without you to distract me.

Ken wiped the sweat from his face. She would have endured. She knew it and he knew it—because when you were in the hands of a madman, you resisted as little as possible and waited for that one moment to strike or run. Endurance was all you had.

What is the doctor’s name and what does he look like? Even as he lay under cover of bushes and grass, he’d seen half a dozen men in lab coats walking in and out of the facility.

Prauder. He’s Whitney’s chief doctor. The man’s a worm. I’m not entirely certain he’s human. He acts more like a robot. Mari pulled her gown around her and went back toward the alcove.

“What are you doing?” Sean asked.

“Getting dressed. I don’t feel like parading through the halls with this hospital gown on. I need my clothes.”

Sean glanced at Whitney and then shook his head. “We need to sweep them for tracking devices.”

She wanted Ken’s shirt. It was stupid, but she wanted it. She didn’t even glance at the alcove or at Sean. “I’m not walking down the hall in this stupid getup.”

I want a description of Prauder. Ken’s voice was insistent.

Mari was proud of herself for using telepathic communication without Whitney or Sean realizing it, both right there where they should have been able to detect it. But now that she was sitting up, facing them, she was afraid she might make a mistake. She took a breath and let it out. He’s short and skinny, balding with a small goatee. She kept it short and succinct.

Ken could feel her nervousness and her reluctance to continue their conversation. All right, baby, do whatever you have to do and contact me when you’re alone again.

Mari didn’t reply, but she was grateful that he let her know he was going to be within her mind’s reach. She snapped her fingers. “At least get me another gown, Sean. I’m not walking in front of you half-naked.”

Sean muttered something under his breath, but jerked another gown from a shelf under the table and tossed it to her.

Mari caught it and shrugged into it, wrapping it around her back. She never once glanced up at Whitney, but she could feel him there, watching every move she made. She made herself walk out of the room with her shoulders straight and her chin up. Whitney hadn’t broken her, thanks to Ken, not even when she’d been at her most vulnerable. She resisted throwing Whitney a triumphant smirk, because he’d retaliate with something else and she didn’t have the time to devote to their usual battle. Let him put her lack of resistance down to being shot.

She would have given anything to be able to read his mind. Did he think being a prisoner had been a terrible experience? Did he think Ken had forced himself on her? The evidence on her body certainly might substantiate that theory. Whitney knew Ken was paired with her—that she would be sexually attracted to him—but that didn’t mean she necessarily had given in to the temptation.

She knew Whitney. The question would eat away at him. If he even had any doubt at all, he wouldn’t be able to let go of it until he knew the answer. It was one of his greatest weaknesses and she often used it against him. He needed answers. If she could pose a simple question, it would drive him insane until he figured out the answer. And he would want to know—no, need to know—if Ken had forced himself on her.

Sean paced along behind her and she could feel his temper smoldering. He had seen every mark on her body. She kept walking, back ramrod straight, until she reached her own room. It was small, a cell really, with a heavy steel door.

“Did he hurt you?” Sean glanced at the camera in the hallway and turned, so that when he spoke, it was impossible to see his mouth move.

“I’m not going to discuss it with you, Sean. You weren’t concerned before; there’s no need to be now,” she said, deliberately stiff, standing in the doorway. She hoped Whitney was listening or watching. If he’d primed Sean to get information, she wasn’t giving anything away.

“I know you’re angry with me . . .”

“You think? You’ve been an ass. What’s wrong with you anyway?”

A buzzer sounded and Sean grimaced. “We’ll have to talk about this later. You need to get in your room. It’s lockdown.”

She stood there, hating that he had turned on them all. He’d been one of them, trained with them, been a good friend. “What did Whitney do to you? What’s he doing to the other men? It’s him, isn’t it? He’s still experimenting and using you all as guinea pigs too.”

“Move back, Mari,” Sean insisted, raising his gun slightly, the smallest of warnings, but it was there. He kept a safe distance from her, watching her with wary eyes that would never miss so much as a twitch of her body.

Marigold took a step back, deliberately reluctant, never taking her gaze from Sean. He had always been one of the best at everything. There were no mistakes with Sean, none of the small breaches that would allow the possibility of exploiting weakness. Sean never let down his guard, and he was enhanced, every bit as strong and well trained as she was. More important, he was psychically enhanced. She’d tested his mind repeatedly and his shields were strong—impossible to penetrate. Going up against Sean was a losing proposition, but she didn’t mind taunting him. Again she stopped, just out of the doorway, daring him to take action.

She was so angry with him for giving in, for allowing Whitney to use him when he saw what it did to the others—and she was certain she was right. Whitney had to be raising the testosterone levels in the men, doing something to make them more aggressive.

Sean shook his head. “You always have to push it, don’t you?”

“Would you want to live like a prisoner your entire life?” She waved her hand to encompass the entire compound, watching the way his gaze jumped to the graceful movement. “I’ll bet no one tells you when to go to bed at night, or what books you can read. There’s not a camera in your room, is there, Sean?”

He stepped closer. “Get in your room. Lockdown’s in three minutes.” Even as he moved, he inhaled deeply.

Her heart jumped. She saw the flare of heat in his eyes. Adrenaline surged and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. “You let them pair us.” It was an accusation, her voice strangled, a shimmering fission of fear slidding down her spine. Why hadn’t she suspected? It hadn’t occurred to her that Sean would ever volunteer for the breeding program—not when he knew all the women objected strenuously and were forced to cooperate.

“You’re the best choice, Mari,” he said, tone practical even when his eyes moved over her possessively. “You’re a strong psychic and so am I. Our children would be extraordinary.” He lowered his voice and turned away from the camera so there was no possibility of lipreading. “I’ve always been attracted to you, ever since I first saw you, and you aren’t an anchor and I am. I doubt any of the other men could handle your abilities. I don’t think Whitney has a clue what you can or can’t do.”

Her mouth went dry. She forced her suddenly damp palm to remain still when she wanted to rub it up and down her thigh in agitation. Sean saw too much. He’d always been the guard she’d most feared. They had trained in hand-to-hand, and he could always, always, best her. Few of the guards could, even though she was so much smaller.

“And you don’t mind Whitney experimenting on your child?” she challenged.

He studied her face for a long time before answering, his gaze once again shifting toward the camera. “Our child will be born to greatness.” He used his chin to indicate the room. “Get inside now.”

“I won’t accept you, Sean,” she warned. “I’m not going to give him another child to torture.”

“I know that. I knew it when I made the decision. But I’m not standing by and watching some other man father your child. You’ll accept me one way or another.”

She stepped back inside the small cell that had been her home for these last few months. “I had so much respect for you, Sean. You were one of the few I did respect, but you’re willing to become a monster in order to please the puppet master.” She shook her head, sorrow shooting through her. “What about Brett?”

A flash of disgust crossed his face. He stepped forward, one hand sliding down her face, touching the bruises there. “He didn’t get the job done, did he?”

Her stomach churned, a violent protest, but she stood her ground. “So you’re taking his place? You think you can force me to conceive so Whitney can have another toy to play with?” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “What happened, Sean? I thought you were one of us.”

She knew the moment her breath warmed his skin that she’d made a terrible mistake. Whitney and his experiments with pheromones, along with pushing up the testosterone levels in the males, had created a dangerous, very explosive situation. He wanted aggressive soldiers and if he succeeded, he wanted children from those soldiers.

Sean reacted instantly to her scent, to the close proximity of her body. He wrapped his fingers around the nape of her neck and dragged her the scant inches separating them, his mouth coming down hard on hers. The cold metal of the rifle dug into her flesh as his fingertips dug into her skin.

She twisted her head out of the way, hands catching the rifle and jerking as her knee came up between his legs hard. Sean yanked her backward, off balance, spinning to the side to avoid her knee, whirling her around as he did so, his arm sliding beneath her chin in a choke hold.

Mari kept going, using her weight and momentum to put pressure on his arm, bending it away from her neck to try to get leverage against him. He had been trained in the same school as she had, and he was bigger and stronger. He knew exactly what her reaction would be and he was prepared for it. He wrapped his arm tighter and exerted pressure, succeeding in getting her in a headlock. Mari turned her head and bit him hard in the ribs, at the same time driving her thumb into the pressure point at the back of his knee. His leg buckled and he swore, folding in half quickly to keep from going down, dragging her with him, refusing to let go.

They ended up sprawled on the floor, Mari breathing hard, trying to ignore the pain shooting through her at the awkward position.

“Stop it, Mari,” he hissed. “I’m not turning into another Brett.” He leaned his weight on her, pinning her down.

She gathered her strength and was preparing to push him off of her, when the hall filled to a choking point with dark malevolence. The floor beneath them rippled and the walls around them undulated. Mari knew that presence and went very still beneath Sean, her heart pounding so hard she was afraid it might shatter. She knew that scent. That aura. The scent of his cunning malevolence. There was only one man that could make her stomach churn with such bile. Brett was coming.