Page 24 of He Is Jensen: Part One

“And yet, it’s true.”

“That we know of—”

“No pre-existing conditions and no difference in one vial of ICE to the next,” Julian repeats. “Your failure to be more informed disappoints me.” He cuts his gaze to Dorian. “Show the lady what happens to people who disappoint me.”

The boy’s lips curl, his dark eyes expressive, excited as if he’s been rewarded with a toy, and I’m the toy. He raises his hands, and the wolves charge at me. A scream rips through my lips, and I scramble to my feet and back up, hitting a concrete beam, trapped as the wolves halt so close their breaths fan the bottom of my lab coat.

Dorian laughs a laugh of pure evil. “I do believe she’s frightened, Father.”

My gaze swings toward Milton in the misdirected hope of intervention. He’s still sitting, his head on the table, his body shaking. He’s dying.

With bravado I don’t feel, I appeal to Julian. “I’ll do what you want. But please, I need Milton’s help. Don’t make him suffer.”

“I take it from your desire to cling to the aid of this human scientist that my scientific team has displeased you?”

“I’ve barely had time to evaluate anyone’s value, but killing off resources won’t help us win the scientific battle.”

“You would be better served to focus on the big picture and not on a few humans without purpose.”

“I’m human,” I say softly.

“You’re female,” he states. “You’ll soon learn how purposeful that is around here.”

He means I’ll be a sex experiment, but I block out my fear of such a thing. “If you really want answers, punishing me for speaking up and killing off Milton before I know his usefulness is wasting time.”

Julian grimaces, but surprises me by waving at Dorian. “Give him the drug.”

“As you wish, Father,” Dorian complies, approaching Milton, the evil he reeks of ravishing me with dread of his nearness. A sense of something not being right settles hard in my stomach. Dorian grabs a handful of Milton’s hair and jerks his head backward, shoving a pill in his mouth.

Oh God. Panic rushes through me. “That wasn’t ICE! What did you give him?”

Dorian’s attention settles hard on me, callousness beyond his age etching his finely carved features as he slams Milton’s face into the table.

My stomach rolls at the hard crash of skull against wood.

“Lady,” Dorian says, tilting his head to study me as if I were a specimen to be evaluated. “I’ve given him what you wished for. He will suffer no more. This should please you.”

Milton convulses and falls off the chair to the ground.

“What does that mean?” I scream at them, the wolves snarling at me and warning me to hold my position. “What does that mean, he won’t suffer anymore?” I turn a pleading stare onJulian. “Julian, please! Please, help him. I’ll do anything you want.”

“You’ll do what I want, regardless,” he replies. “But it’ll be without him. He’s dead. And you are not the only scientist here with your expertise. But youarefemale, and I do not wish you dead, just motivated. So here is your motivation. Every time I feel you are failing me, I will kill one of the humans. And you are failing me. Consider Milton’s blood on your hands, Layla.”

I choke on my own breath, and this time it has nothing to do with cancer. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening. I squeeze my eyes shut and tell myself this is a nightmare. I’ll wake up soon. It must be the side effects from the treatments in Germany.

A shift in the air has my eyes flying open, and suddenly, Julian is in front of me, the wolves parting to allow him to stand almost on top of me. I gasp, shocked at his nearness. He doesn’t touch me, yet I can almost feel his hands on my throat. I try to move, but it’s as if I’m frozen in place.

“I suggest you get to work,” Julian bites out, his voice low and poisonous. “Before I decide to kill another human simply because…well, it’s entertaining. Especially when I watch you worry for them.” He pauses as if for effect, then asks, “Am I clear?”

“Yes,” I whisper, but the word is barely audible.

For several seconds, he studies me, his features stony and intense. “Then do it,” he finally says. “And I’ll leave Milton here to remind you of the consequences of displeasing me.”

He gives me his back, his wolves following on his heels. Dorian falls into step beside his father, but not before casting me a mocking glance. The boy is pure evil. Born evil. Growing more so with each passing day.

And when I’m certain this day can’t get any worse—a second before the doors close—Tad’s big, obnoxious self steps inside.

“Good news, Layla. Sweetie. Darling. Honey bunch. We have some quality time together. I’m to look out for you.” He smiles and winks. Then he walks over to Milton and shoves him aside before claiming his chair. “You heard Julian,” he says. “Let’s get to work.” The doors open again, and I count six scientists in lab coats entering the room. We’re a regular assembly line of submission.

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