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"You blame me? For not wanting to be part of genocide?"

"I blame you for the virus being imperfect." He leans forward and jabs a finger at me. "If you hadn't pulled your funding, your scientists, your resources, we would have perfected it and made it controllable."

"You're insane."

"Whatever you say." Hammond stands again, pacing the length of my office. "Do you know what happens when shifters lose control? When they transform in public? People die, Evan. Human people."

"So, your solution is to kill all shifters or round them up like animals?"

"My solution is to control the threat. By any means necessary." He stops and fixes on me with a hard stare. "But you were always too soft. Too... conflicted."

"Because I have a conscience?"

Hammond laughs again. "Because you're a coward. You couldn't commit. Not to the research, not to the goal, not even to your own nature."

"My nature is none of your business."

"Oh, but it is." He steps closer, voice dropping. "Your insecurity is what made you perfect for this project. You are a Half-human, half-shifter, who belongs nowhere. So, you're always trying to prove yourself. That hunger is what I banked on when I brought you in."

My jaw clenches so tight I'm surprised my teeth don't crack. "You don't know me."

"I know you better than you think." His smile is vicious. "I know you wanted that enhancer we were developing. Not just for profit, but for yourself. So, you can finally feel whole."

I'd never admitted it, not even to myself, but part of me had hoped the research might help me unlock more of my shifter side

"It doesn't matter now," I say. "We've found a cure."

Hammond's eyebrows rise slightly, and it's the first genuine surprise I've seen from him.

"A cure? For my virus?"

"It's not yours anymore." I feel a surge of satisfaction at his reaction. "We're holding a press conference tomorrow. And I will announce your role in creating the virus."

For a moment, Hammond looks genuinely concerned. Then his face smoothly breaks into a smile before he starts laughing hysterically.

"You think you've won, don't you?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "But you'll always be five steps behind, Blackthorn. It's almost endearing."

"What are you talking about?"

"You think I came here without a plan? Without insurance?" He straightens his uniform jacket. "I may have lost once boy, but I never lose twice."

Something cold slithers down my spine. "What have you done?"

Hammond pulls out his phone, taps the screen a few times, then turns it toward me. The video shows a dark room with a single chair in the center. And tied to that chair, head slumped forward, is Dahlia.

My blood turns to ice. "If you've hurt her…"

"She's merely sedated." Hammond pulls the phone back and slips it into his pocket. "For now."

"Let her go." My voice drops to a dangerous growl. "She has nothing to do with this."

"On the contrary. Dr. Baldwin has everything to do with this." Hammond's smile widens. "She's an Omega, and she's also researching the cure. She's the most valuable asset on the planet right now."

How does he know she's an Omega?

"What do you want?" I ask, forcing my voice to remain steady.

"Simple. You will do me one favor."