Chapter 13 · Blood-Scent Trial

"Don't move, you stupid bitch!"

The shout ripped through the air a second before the metal needle slammed into the floorboards, missing Vera's throat by a fraction of an inch. I didn't think. I didn't have time to. I lunged, my new muscles screaming with a speed that felt like lightning in my veins, and tackled her sideways.

We hit the floor hard. I pinned her against the grime-streaked wood, my chest heaving, my face inches from hers. I could smell everything—the sharp tang of her fear, the salt of her skin, and the chemical stench of the toxin dripping from the needle.

"What the hell—" Vera gasped, her eyes wide, chest heaving against mine.

"Shut up and stay down," I growled. My voice sounded wrong—gravelly, predatory. I could feel the beast inside me clawing at the surface, hungry and pissed off.

Above us, the ceiling groaned. Then came the voice. Smooth, cold, and dripping with the kind of arrogance that only comes from owning everyone in the room.

"Such a waste of a perfectly good specimen," Hector Vane said. I could hear his boots clicking on the catwalk above. "Jace, is it? Or whatever is left of you.