24. EPILOGUE
I’ve been on their trail for weeks, throughout America and Mexico. And now in fucking Brazil.
They’re headed to the facility outside Bolivia, but they took an extended stay here for some reason. I kick the door to the warehouse open. It flies off its hinges, scraping across the concrete floor. The place is a disaster, broken wood, glass, and metal scattered across the vast room. Mats haphazardly skewed about the floor, many of which are covered in puddles of blood. I breathe through my mouth, trying not to lose myself to the alluring coppery scent.
Between my contacts, the confiscated cell phone, and her scent, I’ve been tracking her since Phoenix. But why would they stop here?
I step to the center of the room, closing my eyes and isolating my sense of smell. Recalling her scent from Phoenix, I take a deep sniff. My eyes snap open and over to one cot in the corner. I flash there in an instant, kneeling next to it.
She was here. And recently. The mat isn’t covered in a puddle of blood like some others. Thank goodness. But there is a fair amount of sprayed dried blood against the cot.
I lean closer, smelling it.
Taste it.
I can’t taste it. What an outrageous thought. I shake my head and cough to clear the constriction in my throat.
Taste it.
The thought strikes again with such urgency, I can’t fight it. I lick my finger, wet the dried particles of blood, and lift it to my nose.
I shouldn’t taste it. It’ll spark my frenzy.
Taste it. Now.
My finger lands on my tongue before I can talk myself out of it. The flavor explodes in a floral euphoria. Her smell washes through my senses. It’s her blood. My nostrils flare and lips pull back, baring my fangs.
Her blood.
My fists clench. Zosar is a motherfucking dead man walking. He’s more than signed his own death certificate for being here experimenting in the first place. He knew his place and stepped out of line. That alone is enough to spark my wrath.
But this? I’m going to tear him limb from limb.
I push up and head for the exit. I need to keep going. They aren’t here now, but I’m close to them. I know it.
I’m almost to the hole where the door was when my stomach seizes up in shooting pain. Bending over, I brace my hands on my knees as my stomach rolls, heaving out my liquid diet onto the concrete flooring.
What the fuck? I’ve never thrown up.
And like a tidal wave, I’m hit with fiery pain lacing up my spine. I grit my teeth, grabbing the metal door frame for balance. The fire billows across my skin and emotions pop in and out like strobe lights. Panic. Pain. Horror. Hopelessness. Fear.
The pain ebbs then subsides, and I stand tall, taking a deep breath. I haven’t feared anything in over four thousand years. What the actual fuck?
My gaze slides back to the mat in the corner with the dried blood…
Elena.
I shake my head and step out from the warehouse to follow her scent.
I’m going to find her. Save her. And burn the rest of them to the fucking ground.