Eli shook his head. The lines on his face deepened even more.“Get him to the containment facility,” a hard voice ordered.Whoa…what? Containment? Containment was where his team—the Arcadia division of the CIA’s not-supposed-to-exist Para Unit—sent their captured shifters and vampires for temporary holding. He wasn’t a prisoner. He was one of the good guys.Damon tried to lift his head. On the second attempt, he actually succeeded, and it was then that he saw the face of his boss, Patrick MC'cain, come into focus. “I’m sorry,” Patrick said, and he actually sounded like he was, odd for the usually emotionless director, “but we don’t have an option.”Damon jerked at the bonds holding him down. The other agents had strapped him to a gurney and were wheeling him toward a waiting ambulance.“You were bitten by the suspect.” Real regret tinged Patrick’s voice. “You know what that means.”Bitten. No. The f**k, no. “Kill me,” Damon snapped. Because there was no way he’d become a monster. The

He’d also wanted her to study the prisoners in containment.Two reasons to bring her in. There were more reasons, of course, there always were. But those were the two he’d used to the CIA Brass.And, since she’d owed Patrick far more than she could ever repay, it wasn’t like Hellen had been given much of a choice in taking the job.No, she’d lost that whole choice option a year ago. When she’d lost her life.Carefully now, she lifted one of Damon’s eyelids. She was about to shine her light on his eye when she realized—No need for light.His eye was shining on its own. The blue had lit up, streaking with gold. Already a werewolf’s sight. A werewolf’s vision was ten times better than a human’s during the day, and at night, werewolves could see in the darkness. All of a werewolf’s senses were enhanced. Incredibly amped.She backed away from him a bit. Her gaze scanned over his body. So much blood. Her nostrils flared a bit at the scent. Considering the damage he’d sustained, it was amaz