Dreams of a Dark Warrior

did?
    Physically, Declan had every advantage over the other recruits. Even at seventeen, he was bigger, swifter, more powerful. Webb attributed it to kicking heroin, the training, the vitamins, and diet.
    For once in his life, Declan had excelled, even thrived.
    And while he’d learned weapons, hunting tactics, and military strategy, he’d begun educating himself and disguising his accent; he hadn’t wanted his enemies to determine
anything
about him.
    He buried all traces of his past so that no one could ever connect him to the ignorant seventeen-year-old junkie who’d begged for death while his tormentors laughed around mouthfuls of his blood and skin.
    After his initiation into the Order, Declan had hunteddown the offspring and forebears of the creatures who’d butchered his own family. Yet that hadn’t been enough to satisfy him. He’d become obsessed with tracking more and erasing them from the face of the earth.
    And no matter how much the detrus begged—he
always
made them beg—he’d slaughtered them. Nothing pleased him more.
    But then two things had changed.
    His abilities had become too noticeable; enter Dixon with her shots.
    Webb had given him control of this installation, charging him with capturing and imprisoning the creatures Declan wanted only to kill.
    Of course, Declan had obeyed the command, ignoring his own deep-seated needs. After all, the man had saved his life, then given him purpose.
    Reminded of all Webb had done for him, Declan vowed to try harder to control himself, his … impulses.
    I know of no man more disciplined than me.
He peered over at the monitor, saw the glowing Valkyrie on one of the bunks with her long blond hair spread out around her head. Like a halo.
    I will crush this interest.
    Eyes narrowed with hate, he rose and turned off the screen.

EIGHT

    M agister Chase is making rounds today!”
the shifter next door whispered urgently.
    Regin rolled her eyes. “Oh, quick, lemme check my hair.” Directly beside their cell’s glass panel, she lay on her back with her legs stretched up against the metal wall, her arms folded behind her head. Whatever was the opposite of checking her hair, that was what she’d be doing.
    From the bottom bunk, Natalya yawned, waking from a nap. In the back of the cell, Roomie Number Three banged his head against the wall. Or at least, against the wadded up jacket Natalya had jammed there.
    Wham … wham … wham …
    And so goes week one in the House of Horrors
. From her spot on the floor, Regin watched the procession of evil researchers and guards going about their daily evil business.
    Warden Fegley, the bane of their existence, had only made the first of his thrice daily rounds. The self-important troll loved to taunt immortals, egging them on to violence, then laughing when security gassed their cells.
    And now Chase was making an appearance. Goody.
    “Still working out your escape plan?” Natalya asked. “There
is
a time element here, Valkyrie. I’m up for an examination soon. And you’ll likely go before me since you were a high-priority capture.”
    Examination
was a euphemism for
vivisection.
Where the subject was dissected while conscious. So far, they’d seen two victims brought by, their eyes glazed over, their chests carved open and held together with staples, like a flesh zipper.
    Natalya had told her, “I heard that you experience pain like you’ve never known. They slice nerves or pluck at them just to see how you tick. You’re awake when they crack open your chest to get at your heart. Afterward, they wire your ribs back together.”
    Unfortunately, Regin didn’t have an escape plan yet. The only thing she knew for certain? The more she learned about Declan Chase, the more she wanted to take him out.
    He truly was in charge of this entire hateful facility. All operations—from the experimentations to the torturous interrogations—were under his iron-fisted control. He himself was supposed to be a master at torture.
    She studied her claws. Just thinking about the Blademan made them straighten and sharpen with aggression. For Aidan, they’d curled, aching to clutch his body close to hers.
    “Care to crowd-source your plan?” Natalya asked. “Garner feedback? I actually have some experience with escapes.”
    “I’ll let you know.” Regin
did
have that one ace in the hole. Chase would soon be dead if he remembered her. But, hell, she could be vivisected or executed before he ever did.
    Regin had begun to