Page 170 of Shadowblood Souls: The Complete Series

Jacob and Zian are already stepping in front of me like bodyguards. I can tell from their stances that they’d pummel the guy to pieces if I gave the slightest indication it was necessary.

The man regards them with what might be a spark of amusement in his pale eyes before motioning to me again. “It’s not a punishment. You’ll be the first to extend your powers. The procedure is totally painless.”

He has a softly rounded accent, his dictation just slightly halting in a way that suggests English isn’t his first language.

Zian frowns. “You have a procedure to increase our powers?”

“It should accomplish that.” The man rubs his hands together, and his gaze takes on a flintier cast. “It will be better for you and for Mr. Balthazar if it does. I believe he told you that you should follow my instructions—I’m Matteo, or Matt if you would rather. Let us go.”

My primary staff, Toni and Matteo. We’ve already determined that the coolly taciturn woman who led us to the drawing room is Toni.

My mouth goes dry. For a split-second, I’m back in that room, Lindsay’s blood drenching my hands, Balthazar’s voice ringing through the air. I’m not playing around.

If it were just me, I’d say no and face whatever shit these villains would throw at me. Balthazar doesn’t want me dead any more than Clancy did.

I’m too useful to him, whatever he’s after.

But I suspect he’d happily torment any of my guys to punish me. And not just that.

He’s already made it clear that he considers Dominic expendable other than as a point of leverage. And Nadia is here to use as an example rather than because he values her skill.

It isn’t even really a choice, is it? I’m not gambling anyone else’s life for a pointless act of rebellion.

I square my shoulders and ease past Jacob and Zian, ignoring Jake’s grunt of protest. “I’m coming.”

Matteo walks ahead of me, his loafers rapping out a staccato rhythm on the tiled floor as he leads me through the house. He unlocks a door with a swipe of his thumb in a swift pattern I can’t follow.

We pass through a small fore room into one that’s about the size of my bedroom here.

Unlike the rest of the house I’ve seen, though, this area has been given a modern style, the walls and ceiling blank white with no carvings or decorative paintings, the chair in the middle of the room pure steel.

The still air holds a crisp lemony scent.

A thick transparent pane sections off one end of the room, behind which lies a small desk with a stack of computer equipment. Two cameras peer down over the space from opposite corners.

Matteo nudges me to sit in the chair. “We will be focusing on your vocal talent today,” he tells me calmly, clicking clamps into place around my wrists just below the manacle bracelets. “No physical strength.”

My stomach sinks even farther. My “vocal talent” is for inflicting torment and death with a shriek.

It’s already more powerful than I’m comfortable with. Balthazar wants to make me even deadlier?

I try to relax into the chair, pretending I’m complying. I don’t have to stretch my abilities.

We played this game at our original facility all the time. Holding back our strength, acting as if we were pushing ourselves to our limits while hiding our full capabilities.

A steel cabinet stands behind the chair. Matteo opens it and shuffles through its contents, but I can’t see what he’s doing.

When he comes up to the side of the chair, I glance up at him, but he grasps my jaw. In the second when I waver between resistance and caution, a sting radiates through my neck.

He holds up the syringe he just used to inject something into me, his lips curved in a thin smile. “My own creation, in consultation with Mr. Balthazar and the records of your ‘guardians.’ We will see how much it frees your full potential. Some adjustments may be necessary as we experiment.”

We , he says, as if I’m a willing participant in his research. I start to grit my teeth…

And my jaw loosens of its own accord. A warm melting sensation is spreading through my body, easing the tension that was wound through it.

My pulse hitches—and then it slows too, settling into a steady thump.

I should be panicking. I should be fighting this.

But the defiance I was clutching on to crumbles into ashes.

As I grapple with my body’s betrayal, Matteo steps into the paneled section of the room. He retrieves a cage from under the desk and returns to set it on a small table in front of the chair.

A bird cage. Three bright green parakeets ruffle their feathers behind the bars, peering at me with beady eyes.

Matteo returns to the paneled section. The pane hisses over to fully seal him in. Understanding clicks in my head that it must be soundproofed.

He speaks into a microphone on the other side, his voice projecting into my side. “You will kill them, finding the fatal point quickly rather than lingering on the pain. And you’ll work on using as soft a sound as possible.”

I should fake my way through this, act as if I simply can’t follow his instructions.

My lips part of their own accord. A vibration creeps up my throat, training my attention on the humming nerves of the feathered creatures a few feet away.

I know what flesh I’d need to sever to end their lives immediately, even if the hunger inside me craves a longer stream of pain.

A silent wail of refusal fills my mind—and a whisper of a shriek spills from my lips, cutting the first bird down.