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“We need to make sure he’s actually one of the bad guys before we do that,” Gage insists.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath. “We don’t have time for this. We need to get back to Cherry and we’re wasting time.” Turning to Bain, I instruct, “Gag him, tie him up tight, and put him in the back of the SUV.”

Gage goes to get our vehicle and reverses into the driveway as I help Bain secure our prisoner. After tossing him in the back and tying him down, I climb in the driver’s seat as Bain sits beside me, and Gage jumps in the back.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, I press my foot down on the pedal, eager to get home as fast as possible.

“Hang on, baby. We’re coming for you.”

Chapter 32

Cherry

Stepping away from Ezra, I press my hand on the wall to steady myself and shake my head. “I don’t understand. Why would you kill your girlfriend? What are you doing here?”

He smiles, showing off far too many teeth, like he doesn’t smile often and doesn’t know how to do it without looking terrifying.

“It’s a gift,” he says, jutting the head toward me with an expectant look on his face, blood dripping from it onto the floor. I can see Chase past his shoulder, still unmoving in the bed, but his wide eyes are staring straight at us. Ezra sees where I'm looking and waves his free hand in their direction. “Oh, don’t worry about them. I just put a sedative in the water. I thought you’d drink it, too, but it kinda works out better this way. So I can give you your gift.”

I stare at him in confusion as he once again thrusts Juliet’s head toward me, blood dripping on the floor between us. The metallic copper smell makes my nose wrinkle. Why can’t I smell him, though? He must be using some kind of scent blocker.

“I-I don’t want that! Why would you kill her?” I ask in alarm as my eyes flit around my room, trying to figure out how to get past him.

He frowns, finally dropping his arm to his side as he tilts his head. “Because she was mean to you.”

“Because…” I trail off, not understanding what’s going on here. Sure, I detested Juliet, but I didn’t want her dead. She hadn’t done anything truly wrong. Just because I didn’t like her personality was no reason to kill her.

He sighs as he steps closer, trying to reach for my face, but I swat his hand away as I take another step back. Frowning, he tells me, “I did it for you.”

“You don’t even know me,” I argue, shaking my head. Hadn’t we only met like twice, and one of those times I was a wolf?

He smiles that crazy, manic smile again before he chuckles. It sends shivers up my spine, and not the good kind. “Three, it’s me, Blaze. Your one true mate.”

I suck in a sharp breath of surprise, my body going rigid. I’m not sure if I’m more alarmed that this is the man who’s been leaving me notes, that he’s just called me by my designation from the facility, or that he thinks he’s my mate.

“You’re not,” I argue. Then I remember an important fact. “If we were mates, we would have felt it when we first met as humans, the other day on Main Street.”

He shakes his head as he tells me, “But that’s not the first time we met.” I wrack my brain, trying to remember him from the facility, but I can’t place him.

“I don’t remember you,” I tell him, hoping it will make him give up this fantasy that he seems to have created around me.

“It was about six years ago,” he explains. “Dr. J let me come to one of your sessions.”

No wonder I don’t remember him. I was never focused on anyone else when Dr. J was in the room, because he was always the biggest threat. Then another thought occurs to me.

“You saw me in that lab, and thought I was your mate, then you what? Stood there and watched him torture me?” I ask, my nose wrinkling in disgust.

He shakes his head, looking disappointed. “No,” he says, almost sounding like he’s pouting. “Those experiments are to help people. Besides, it’s not like he killed you.”

My jaw drops open, a fresh wave of anger fueling my rage. “Are you kidding me?” I ask as my hands clench into fists.

“What?” he asks, tilting his head. I take a good look at him. He’s a big guy, covered in muscles and tall, though not as tall as four of my guys, and not as big as Bain or Chase. But with blood covering his front and his almost innocent-looking frown, he looks like a psychotic toddler. There’s something about him that feels new. Like he hasn’t properly lived the twenty-five or thirty years he looks to be.

“That asshole doctor killed me hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t count,” he argues, making my eyes widen with incredulity.

“Doesn’t count?”