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KIAN

F ifty-three hours had passed since the raids, and forty-nine since it had been confirmed that there was no fifth terror nest lurking somewhere in Los Angeles.

Now was the time for a deeper dive, but as Kian observed the prisoner through the two-way mirror in the interrogation room, he wasn't sure they would be able to get anything coherent out of the Doomer.

The deterioration in his condition was remarkable.

"How long has he been twitching like that?" Kian asked Theo, who was in charge of the dungeon in Max's absence.

"About fifteen hours." Theo rose to his feet.

"Julian says he's suffering withdrawal symptoms. Even the sedatives are not helping.

All the Doomers we captured this time have been twitching like that, some worse than others, and they don't sleep unless we sedate them.

Soras here seems more affected than the others, but he also seems to be more intelligent than average, which is uncommon for rank-and-file Doomers. "

That was why Kian had chosen to interrogate this specific Doomer again, but it might be necessary to wait until he stabilized.

The prisoner was shackled to a metal chair that was bolted down, which was the only reason he was still seated and not sprawled and twitching on the floor.

His head was lolling forward, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his bare feet kept tapping manically on the concrete.

The same compulsive movement was happening with his hands, which he was fisting and relaxing just as obsessively.

"What is he on?" Toven asked. "Did Julian find out?"

The doctor had taken blood samples shortly after the prisoners had been delivered to the keep, so he'd had enough time to analyze the results, but some were so bizarre that Julian needed help from Kaia to decipher them, and they were still working on that.

"The blood work came back." Kian pulled out his phone and started scrolling until he found the email from the doctor.

"The drug cocktail is powerful, designed for immortal physiology.

I don't understand half of what Julian wrote here, but there is something about amphetamine derivatives at doses that would kill a human.

We're talking twenty times the lethal threshold.

He also mentions synthetic adrenaline compounds that resist our naturally accelerated metabolism, along with neural enhancers that should cause permanent damage but somehow don't." He looked up.

"There were several compounds Julian couldn't identify at all because the molecular structures don't exist in any database. Kaia is working on that."

Toven rubbed a hand over his jaw. "They must have a specialist working for them."

"Obviously." Kian pocketed his phone. "Shall we have a chat with the prisoner about who that mystery scientist is?"

Toven nodded. "That could shed some light on what we are dealing with, but given the state the guy is in, I'm not sure we will get anything useful out of him."

As they entered the cell, the Doomer's head snapped up, his eyes struggling to focus. The twitching intensified, muscles spasming beneath his skin as if they were trying to escape.

"Withdrawal is hitting you hard," Kian said, taking a seat at a safe distance from the metal chair. "How long since your last dose?"

"Too long." The Doomer's lips pulled back from his teeth—not quite a smile, not quite a snarl. "Worth it. The gifts... bestowed only on the select who... who…" His voice came out rough, breaking on certain words. "The chemist. You couldn't... couldn't understand. Weak. All of you are weak. Weak?—"

A violent convulsion cut off his words, his body straining against the shackles hard enough to make the bolts groan and welts rise on his skin.

The drugs must have impaired Soras's mind, or maybe it was the withdrawal, but either way, Kian had a feeling he wouldn't be much use to them. Not until his body adjusted to the lack of stimulants.

"You mentioned the chemist." Toven's tone was commanding but without that special resonance that carried compulsion. "Tell us about him. Or is it a her?"

The Doomer laughed or tried to. It came out as more of a wheeze. "Females are vapid and incapable of scientific thought. No female could… Brilliant. He's so brilliant. Making us... better. Stronger. The Brotherhood's future."

So far, the Doomer hadn't tried to resist direct questions, so Toven hadn't used compulsion on him, and Kian wondered if the drugs were responsible for the guy's loose tongue.

"What's his name?" Toven asked.

"No!" The Doomer's head twisted side to side, muscles straining as if against invisible bonds.

"Look into my eyes," Toven commanded, this time using compulsion.

The Doomer kept shaking his head.

"Interesting," Toven murmured. "He's managing to resist."

"I said, look at me." The god increased the pressure.

The Doomer's head snapped forward, eyes locking with Toven's, pupils so dilated that they were black pools in bloodshot whites.

"That is much better," Toven said. "What is the chemist's name?"

"Zhao. Dr. Marcus Zhao." The words came out less halting and flat, as if the compulsion had managed to overcome the withdrawal jitters.

Kian typed a message to Roni to start researching the name.

"How long has he been working for the Brotherhood?" Toven asked.

"A year and a half, maybe more."

Kian was starting to suspect that the Doomer had been exaggerating his withdrawal symptoms before Toven's compulsion forced him to drop the act. If so, it was clever on his part, and Kian regarded the guy with renewed interest.

According to Soras, only a select few had been chosen for enhancement. Since recently Navuh had been valuing Doomers based on smarts rather than brawn and cruelty, it made sense that Soras was more intelligent than his average brethren.

At the sound of an incoming text, Kian looked down at his phone and read the text from Roni.

Dr. Zhao disappeared about a year ago from a conference in Hong Kong. His lab at Berkeley specialized in neurochemistry. Kaia is going over his published papers. She'll send you a summary .

Kian typed back a thank you before returning his attention to the prisoner.

"I assume that Dr. Zhao was taken against his will?"

The Doomer actually smiled. "He was promised all the beautiful females he could handle if he cooperated and threatened with harm to family members if he did not. This method never fails."

Kian found it curious that this time, Soras had volunteered the information without being compelled.

"What is Dr. Zhao creating?" Toven asked.

"Enhancement formulas." The Doomer shivered, the twitching intensifying for some reason. "Volunteers only. Those who want... want to be better. Many failures."

"Define failures," Kian commanded.

Soras's body convulsed again, and Toven repeated the question using compulsion to force him to answer.

"First batch was twenty volunteers. Fifteen couldn't tolerate it. Seizures. Psychotic breaks. Five survived, became Level One. Stronger, faster, more resilient."

So, there were different levels. That was interesting.

"What level are you?" Toven asked.

"Two." Pride crept into the Doomer's voice. "Twice baseline strength. Reaction time... significantly improved. Can go weeks without sleep."

Kian exchanged a glance with Toven. Weeks without sleep? That alone would be a significant tactical advantage, but there was a chance that the Doomer was boasting.

No one could go for so long without sleep, not even gods.

Sleep was critical to the body, and if the guy had gone so long without, it was no wonder he was psychotic.

"How many enhanced warriors have been made so far?" Toven asked.

"Eighty-seven stable. Twenty more in... in processing. Different levels. Level Three still... problematic."

"Problematic how?" Kian asked.

The Doomer didn't answer until Toven used compulsion to force him to talk.

The guy's face contorted. "They break. Their mind. Mohdes was Three, but he killed four Level Ones before he was stopped. Tore their hearts right out of their bodies."

"What's the goal of this enhancement program?" Toven asked.

Wasn't that obvious? Navuh had discovered a way to expedite the realization of his objective of global domination.

The Doomer's eyes shone with manic glee. "Unstoppable army. Eventually, all fighters…The strong ascending. Lord Navuh's vision..." Another convulsion racked Soras's body.

An entire army of enhanced warriors, stronger and faster than normal immortals, capable of functioning without sleep for days or even weeks at a time, was a nightmare.

Kian took a deep breath.

Could he get one damn break and some good news for a change?

How much more did the cruel Fates think he could take?

"Is Dr. Zhao working on your island?" Toven asked.

"Of course. Lord Navuh had a fancy laboratory built for him."

A rescue would be impossible. They'd managed to extract Carol, but that was because the harem was located in an isolated and convenient spot on the island, and she'd been ready for them. Storming through Navuh's army of misfits would be suicidal.

The only way to obliterate the island was to nuke it, but there were too many innocents living there for Kian to do that. His aunt was one of them.

If only Areana could be convinced to leave her deranged mate and let them extract her straight from the harem like they had Carol, the decision to destroy the island would be much easier.

Well, not really.

There were still thousands of people living on that island who'd been abducted and brought there as slave labor, either as sex providers or maids, builders, gardeners, and any other type of work that was needed on the Pleasure side of the island—the side known to the rich and depraved around the world.

"How often do you need the drugs?" Toven continued his questioning.

"Every day for maintenance. Every three days minimum or..." Another convulsion. "The shaking never stops. Some couldn't take it. Begged for death."

"And yet you volunteered," Toven said. "Why?"