Chapter One

Jesse Culbertson glared at the lab technician standing a few feet from him. The mandatory weekly injections from his employer, The Corporation, were supposed to help him "be all he could be." Instead, they left his injection site raw and irritated for days. Jesse was starting to suspect these serums were more about control than enhancement. He wasn't looking forward to getting the newest one. His arm was still sore from last week's.

The lab technician glanced fleetingly in Jesse's direction, his hands shaking as he prepared the injection. Jesse tended to make the techs nervous. He wasn't sure why. It's not like he'd attacked any of them—yet. Though if they kept injecting him with shit that burned and made him feel like he wanted to crawl out of his skin, it was only a matter of time before he snapped and went at one of them.

Sure, there would be blowback, but it could be worth it in the end if it meant no more injections. From the beads of sweat appearing on the technician's brow, he sensed Jesse was nearing his breaking point.

This tech wasn't new to Jesse. The guy had been giving Jesse his injections for the last few weeks. The Corporation probably knew better than to put one of the new transfers in with Jesse.

The Corporation, or Dynamics Corp, if anyone was going off public records, had recently acquired three more pharmaceutical companies, expanding its already massive reach into the medical sector. Each acquisition meant more suits visiting the facility, more closed-door meetings, more serums to test, and more staff members.

Jesse had been tasked with running background checks on the newly acquired medical staff as well as helping to weed out those who weren't good fits for The Corporation. More than one of the employees from the other companies hadn't been able to pass The Corporation's extensive background check. Some that had managed to pass it simply weren't cut out for the type of work The Corporation did. Those people had been sent to work at other businesses owned by the company. Ones that were above board, unlike this facility. Even Jesse wasn't entirely sure about all of what this facility did and didn't do.

He had learned long ago not to question The Corporation's methods or motives. He'd seen too many "reassignments." Good men who asked the wrong questions and were never heard from again. Better to play the good soldier, even as his instincts screamed that something was wrong. It was that or risk ending up on the side of a milk carton.

As a cat shifter, being listed on a milk cartoon would just be adding insult to injury.

No thanks.

He came in, did his job, and left at the end of his shifts. He didn't dare speak of what he really did for work to anyone without clearance. Anyone who asked was told he was a security guard, nothing more. If someone pushed too much, wanting to know how it was he afforded the "toys" he had, he simply said he'd come into money from an inheritance, never the truth. The truth left a trail of dead bodies in its wake. He knew because, more than once, he'd been sent to eliminate people who put their noses where they didn't belong.

Jesse hated what he used to do for The Corporation —interrogation and target elimination—but the weekly injections were making him start to second-guess his stance on it all. Maybe, just maybe, being the heavy wasn't so bad. Sure, it left him unable to look himself in the mirror for years, but he never wanted to crawl out of his own skin like the serum made him want to do. It was a sad day when he was considering going back to being the ultimate villain just to avoid injections.

He side-eyed the lab technician, counting all the various ways he could kill the man in under ten seconds. If given an extra three minutes, Jesse could hide the body too. He was that talented.

The technician stepped forward, the syringe trembling in his hand. The man glanced at Jesse's arm and then up again, slowly, as if he was rethinking a fair number of his life choices.

Wise man.

The tech gulped before nodding to Jesse's arm— to the area he'd wiped with an alcohol swab only moments prior.

Jesse remained silent as he gave a curt nod. If the tech was hoping for a smile and an open invitation to stick him, the guy was going to be sorely disappointed.

He pushed the needle in with great care as if being stuck by a needle was the part Jesse hated, not the serum itself.

Warmth spread through the injection area and quickly turned into a burning sensation. It felt as if someone had poured a thousand fire ants on the spot and watched as they took turns biting him. Pain shot through the area, and Jesse barely managed to contain the hiss wanting to come. It came out as a low growl.

A warning.

The only one the tech was going to get.

"Y-you're all set," the man stammered, nearly dropping the now empty syringe on his way to dispose of it in the designated biohazard container fixed to the wall.

He got rid of the syringe and bumped into the counter with a sink basin in it. The counter was also home to an intercom phone and a large stack of charts. The technician selected the chart at the top of the pile and clumsily made an entry in it, glancing toward Jesse sporadically.

Despite having a weekly standing appointment for his injection, Jesse didn't know the technician's name. That was fine with him. Jesse didn't need to make friends with the man. The technician muttered something under his breath as he scribbled notes in Jesse's chart, his hands moving too quickly.

Jesse narrowed his eyes. The man's breathing was shallow, his gaze darting between Jesse's arm and the far wall like he couldn't decide which was safer to look at. The asshole was acting like he was the one with the problem when Jesse was the one who felt like his arm was about to burst into flames.

"Something you want to say?" asked Jesse, narrowing his gaze on the man.

The technician's spine straightened. He shook his head slightly. "N-no."

Jesse watched the man nervously fumble with the biohazard container.

"By chance, did something change recently with the serum?" asked Jesse, earning him a fast glance from the technician, whose pulse rate sped, giving Jesse all the answer he needed. Something had changed.

"No!" the man practically shouted, nearly yanking the biohazard container from the wall.

Liar. Jesse seethed inwardly. He just needed to refrain from punching him in the face for injecting him with a substance that Jesse was coming to believe was poisonous.

"You sure?" asked Jesse.

The tech stiffened. "I'm…sure."

Jesse flexed his arm in an attempt to relieve the discomfort. It didn't work. It only served to reinforce his aversion to the injections. The heat from the injection site crawled up his shoulder like a line of fire. The ache was sharper than usual, spreading under his skin and leaving his muscles tight.

Damn thing feels like acid, Jesse thought, rubbing at the spot as subtly as he could. The technicians would notice if he flinched too much, and he didn't want to give them any reason to look at him longer than necessary.

The tech glanced at him. "You good?"

Hardly.

Jesse gave a slight nod.

"Any new side effects?" questioned the man.

Jesse cocked his head to the side. "Why would there be? I mean, you said it yourself, nothing changed with the serum, right?"

The tech tugged at his collar. "Right."

"Then there shouldn't be anything new on my end," said Jesse as he stepped out of the exam room and into the hallway, massaging the injection site on his arm. The hallway was large enough to accommodate the men who worked at the secret facility. Supernatural males weren't known for being small guys. Most were at least six feet tall or over, and all were fit.

This part of the building always made Jesse uncomfortable. He couldn't exactly explain the feeling, only that it left him on edge. It wasn't just the sharp, sterile smells of bleach and alcohol or the fluorescent light humming with unnatural brightness—all of which bothered his shifter senses.

There was something else.

Something deeper.

He was always torn between avoiding the area altogether and wanting to be there to get to the bottom of what bothered him. There was something unsettling about it. The place had a way of amplifying sound while feeling utterly empty like even the air didn't want to linger too long.

And like the air—Jesse didn't want to linger long either.

Just then, his attention was pulled to the far end of the hall. To the set of double doors with a state-of- the-art biometric scanner and encrypted keypad. Jesse could probably figure out a workaround for them if he really wanted to. He'd considered doing as much once before but held back. He knew the double door led to an elevator that required special level clearance to access it.

Clearance Jesse didn't have, despite being pretty far up the security food chain. Its red light blinked steadily, a constant reminder of where he wasn't allowed to go. That meant the elevator went somewhere that had a lot of shady shit happening. Shit he didn't need to get wrapped up in. That didn't seem to stop the pull for him to attempt to access the elevator. Thankfully, he never gave in to the urge.

What the hell's down there? he wondered for the hundredth time since he'd transferred to the facility. It wasn't a question anyone answered.

You didn't ask unless you wanted to get reassigned —or worse. Still, he couldn't help but glance toward the elevator doors. There was a ping, and the light changed from red to green as they slid open, and a pair of guards stepped out, carrying a locked case. The guards were part of another security detail. One that was composed entirely of were-coyotes.

Very rarely did The Corporation create teams of the same species of supernaturals. It usually left them forming a pack of sorts, which never ended well for others around them. That's why the team Jesse was a part of had cat-shifters, wolf-shifters, and even a bear- shifter on it.

The moment the men spotted Jesse, their gazes hardened. He didn't know them personally, but knew they were part of the same security team as two guards he couldn't stand—Peters and Efren.

Both men were giant dicks, and if these two were buddies with them, it stood to reason they too were dicks. Efren, in particular, got under Jesse's skin— always reeking of wet dog and cigarette smoke, with a dark, thick mustache that did nothing to hide the yellow staining starting to show on his teeth. He was always making snide remarks about cat-shifters, seeming to take particular pleasure in antagonizing Jesse. More than once, Efren had tried to bait Jesse into a fight.

The guards glanced at the locked case and then at him.

Jesse noted the way the one man's fingers drummed against the case, how the other's stance shifted ever so slightly. Small tells Jesse had learned to spot during his years of training as a special operative. Whatever was in that case made them uneasy.

Jesse didn't budge as he fought the urge to wrinkle his nose at the smell of cheap cologne, artificial pine, cigarette smoke, and body odor that always seemed to cling to the group of men. Jesse raised his chin as if daring them to comment.

Wisely, they didn't.

With the way that the serum was fucking with him, Jesse would have been hard-pressed to control his anger had they opened their mouths. His skin prickled as they passed by him and the other closed exam room doors. The faint scent of blood mixed with something else, something he couldn't place, but that caused his shifter side to take notice.

Chapter Two

JESSE NEARLY WENT after the men with the locked case, demanding to know the origin of the scent. He restrained himself—barely. It seemed like forever before they were gone. Jesse remained in place, his stomach in a knot from the serum. The elevator doors were still open, and Jesse nearly entered the thing, though he wasn't sure why.

For a brief second, he was sure he heard a child's voice coming from the elevator. He was tempted to peek in to be sure a child wasn't somehow hiding in it. But that was absurd. Children weren't at the facility, and a random one couldn't just wander in unnoticed, let alone manage to access a secure section.

The serum is making you hear shit.

The heavy elevator doors clicked shut, taking with them his illusion, leaving only the hum of the overhead lights. The faint noise was a reminder of how much the lighting hurt his eyes right now since his injection.

Stepping to the side so that he wasn't standing in the open doorway, Jesse scratched his forearm. It was inflamed and hot to the touch.

That can't be good.

He hated being The Corporation's guinea pig, but had little to no say in the matter. He also couldn't even remember when or why he'd started working for them in the first place. Memories of his early years with The Corporation were nothing more than a blur —hidden deep in the recesses of his mind. Jesse clenched his jaw, his temples throbbing as he tried— and failed—to focus on anything beyond the present.

Every attempt to remember his early years with The Corporation ended the same way: with his mind tangling itself in static. Faces, voices, places—flickered just out of reach, teasing him with their familiarity before vanishing entirely.

It's the serum, he reminded himself. Has to be. Toxic crap.

The stuff left him unsure about much of anything he thought, saw, or heard. What he was sure of was that questioning The Corporation's motives or directives was unwise.

They weren't big on free will, and they had ways of making sure everyone complied. They weren't like other employers. A pink slip didn't come with a nice severance package and a good reference. It came with a pine box. If you were lucky enough to get a funeral at all.

He should leave. Any sane person would have walked away years ago. But every time the thought surfaced, something held him back. It wasn't the money, though The Corporation paid well enough. It wasn't loyalty—hell, he didn't even like most of the people he worked with. Yet here he stayed, taking their injections, following their orders, ignoring the growing sense that something was deeply wrong.

Don't question the process.

Obey orders.

Keep your head down.

Compliance was the only viable option—something Jesse had known when he'd signed on with them. The risks versus the rewards were high, yet he hadn't thought much about it all those years ago. The money was nothing to sneeze at, but with age came wisdom and the ability to see that money wasn't everything. While money could technically buy happiness, it couldn't wash away the guilt he carried deep in his soul for some of the actions his job had forced him to do.

Money couldn't chase away his inner demons.

Money couldn't buy him his freedom from his employer.

He'd resigned himself to the knowledge that the only way he was leaving his job was feet first. If The Corporation's eggheads had any say in the matter, that would be happening sooner rather than later.

Whatever the scientists had done to the serum in the last few months had taken that discomfort to new levels. Normally, the crap they pumped into his veins left him jittery and nervous for a day or two. The new stuff left what lived in him—his mountain lion— wanting to claw at him from the inside out while simultaneously making him feel like he might scratch his skin off.

A memory flashed briefly in his mind, half- formed, so faint he wasn't sure it was real. Jesse saw himself in black military fatigues that differed from the ones he'd been issued by The Corporation. His hair was shorter, and he was standing shoulder-to- shoulder with men he couldn't place. Men whose faces were blurred in his mind but whose presence felt like family. The kind of brotherhood forged in combat. He heard a garbled voice telling him something. Giving instructions, maybe. He couldn't make it out.

Jesse blinked, shaking the image from his mind. He was acutely aware that the facility had cameras everywhere and someone was always watching. Jesse rubbed his temple, hoping to push away any more flashes of memories or hallucinations. He didn't need the people in charge to know that he was cracking up. That his mind wasn't what it used to be.

As a natural-born cat-shifter, Jesse's healing abilities were far greater than those of a human. Earlier testing that had been done on him back when he'd started with The Corporation had amped that considerably. That meant his body should have cycled through the ill effects of the serum within minutes of it being injected. That wasn't the case, and bringing it to the scientists or the medical staff at work wasn't an option.

Human doctors wouldn't know anything about it or how to deal with someone like Jesse—a supernatural. It wasn't as if humans were aware supernaturals existed. They'd piss themselves if they knew the truth of what lurked in the dark. Jesse was left to suffer the serum's effects alone.

He'd entertained seeking outside help from other supernaturals who were in the medical field, but the last thing he needed was for The Corporation to think he was leaking information outside the organization. There weren't too many men who worked for The Corporation and had a medical background that Jesse trusted. If things didn't turn around for him soon, he'd figure out something. For now, he'd grin and bear it.

The more his arm itched, the less confidence he had in his ability to cope. He turned partially, contemplating going back into the exam room he'd been in and demanding to speak with one of the masterminds behind the serum's formula. He understood that it wasn't any of the technicians who administered the injections. They weren't making the big decisions. They were merely cogs in the wheel, just like him, but they could point him in the right direction.

Then Jesse could threaten to rip the scientists' heads off if they didn't fix whatever it was that they'd broken in him. The thought of that brought a small smile to his face. While holding someone accountable sounded great, it wasn't going to happen. He would just have to keep pushing through like he always did.

Fuck the weird side effects the serum was causing.

He could ignore them and pretend everything was right in his world. That his shifter senses weren't off. That he wasn't teetering on the edge of shifting, hoping to crawl out of his skin to escape the drug's effects. And that the serum didn't leave him struggling to control his temper. For now, he'd settle for a good night's sleep. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep in months.

Everything in him said the serum was to blame. It was somehow causing him nightmares. He was painfully aware that nightmares were waking him on the regular, but he couldn't remember much about them. In them, he saw flashes of a pretty woman with long blonde hair, wearing clothing that looked to be from the late 1800s. She was holding a bouquet of yellow wildflowers and looked peaceful and serene if you didn't count the fact her throat had been torn out.

He didn't know what the dreams meant or why he could only remember fragments of them. All he knew was that the idea of closing his eyes to rest left his chest tightening and his shifter side clawing at him to be free. He didn't scare easily, so whatever he was dreaming about had to be big. The fragments he could recall from the nightmares were just flashes of faces and voices he didn't recognize. There was always the same voice that spoke to him, telling him not to question the process, to obey orders, and to keep his head down.

Jesse shook his head slightly, trying to get the words out of his mind, thankful it wasn't the sound of children's laughter—again. The phrases were something that had started popping into his head months ago, often on an endless loop, adding to his feeling of losing control. Even stranger than random phrases popping into his brain and hearing random giggles from what sounded like a child was the fact the phrases didn't sound like the rest of his internal dialogue.

No.

They sounded like someone else was saying them to him over and over again.

It was a voice that seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Whatever it was, it brought with it the urge to trust its words of wisdom, no matter how random they seemed. Regardless, they were words to live by if one wanted to survive working for The Corporation.

Words he needed to heed.

He just needed to keep his head down and do his fucking job. That had been far easier before he'd been transferred to the new facility a few months ago. This facility, though recently renovated, hadn't been his first pick. It was one of his least favorite options on the list—mostly because his direct boss was a man he loathed. But there was also something about the facility that made Jesse edgier than usual and made him think he kept hearing voices, though that could have been the serum.

Jesse tilted his head as he heard the intercom phone in the exam room beep again.

"Oneal," the technician said.

Ah, that's his name.

Oneal let out a long sigh. "Can't Hurley go down there and deal with them? They creep me out."

Jesse's cat-shifter side stirred, taking a keen interest in what the technician was talking about. His shifter side rarely, if ever, gave a flying fuck about phone calls. If this was another side effect of the serum, Jesse was going to lose his mind. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was start caring about other people or what they had going on in their lives.

The cat pushed at him, leaving him no choice but to concede and tap into his shifter hearing to catch the other side of the conversation. Strangely, it didn't work. He should have been able to hear it with ease, but the serum was messing with his senses.

He wondered if this was what humans felt like only being able to hear a little of what was actually happening around them. If so, it sucked.

"No, man. I'm telling you…they stare at me in a weird way," said the technician. "They're like something out of a horror movie. And I don't believe for a second that they're harmless."

Jesse stiffened, his hands tingling as the urge to do a partial shift and take the man's head from his body came rushing over him. Since The Corporation would frown on him randomly offing one of their techs, he refrained—for now.

The sound of a child laughing filled Jesse's head again, leaving him backing away from the door to the exam room and abandoning his thoughts of killing the tech. Jesse put his hands to his head, hoping it would somehow hold on to what was left of his sanity. All it did was make his arm itch more.

He dragged his hands over his face.

"Yeah, well, get a fucking smaller needle if you want me to stop growling at you when you do it!" shouted Nick Payne, who was one of only a handful of men Jesse trusted beyond measure at work. "I swear, you keep using a bigger needle every week. It's like you want me to break you in two."

Nick exited the exam room next to the one Jesse had just been in, rubbing his forearm as well. He was glaring into the room he'd just left, growling. It was no secret that the wolf-shifter hated needles.

Jesse always found it mildly amusing that someone as tough as Nick had such an aversion to needles. The man could take down multiple targets without breaking a sweat, yet mention getting an injection, and he turned into a whining pup. Jesse would have teased Nick more about it, but he wanted to stay on his good side in hopes Nick would bring in more baked goods. A few weeks back, it had been a three-tier cake. One Nick said he'd won in some raffle. Then, it had been cupcakes. They were as good as the cake, and last week, it had been cookies.

The door to the room remained open for a moment, gifting Jesse a view of a nervous-looking young man wearing scrubs within. The smell of fear permeated from the young male. The guy shot forward and closed the door to the room behind Nick, causing Jesse to chuckle and Nick to growl more.

"Little fucker," spat Nick, continuing to glare at the closed door.

"Scaring the staff again?" asked Jesse. He'd once seen the medical staff playing rock, paper, scissors to see who would have to jab Nick with a needle. Jesse pitied the man who lost that game.

"I do what I can. Hey, is it me, or does that crap burn more than usual lately?" Nick flexed his hand, his expression dark. "Last week, it just itched. This week, it's like my bones are trying to crawl out of my skin."

Jesse tugged the sleeve of his black shirt down, hiding the large hive that had formed around the injection site. Showing vulnerability wasn't wise, and being allergic to the serum was a sign of weakness. "Yeah, well, what doesn't kill us makes us wish it had."

Nick snickered. "Not sure that's how the saying goes. Besides, I'd like to think they aren't giving us something toxic, but who the fuck knows?"

Jesse shrugged. "You really think they'd tell us if they were?"

Nick stilled, a horrified look flashing through his eyes. "Good point."

Jesse squinted, trying to reduce the amount of light coming into his eyes from the harsh, iridescent lighting mounted throughout the hallway. Dynamics Corp. spared no expense for their facilities, located worldwide. From what he'd heard, they'd retrofitted the building they were currently in with massive laboratories.

Jesse wasn't entirely sure what they used all the labs for and didn't ask. Some things were better left unknown. To date, his guard duties hadn't extended to the labs in the lower levels, so he had no direct dealings with the area. He knew shady stuff went on down there, but since it didn't involve him, he kept his nose out of it. That was how one stayed alive and avoided becoming a missing person.