Ryder’s gaze fell back at Sabine’s still face.
“The tears . . . are they still on her cheeks?” The doctor tried to keep her voice flat, but Ryder heard the crack of emotion. Desperate hope. “I saw . . . the footage from the security camera. She cried for you.” Her footsteps shuffled closer. “Are the tear tracks . . . still there?”
He didn’t answer. He knew what the woman wanted.
The tears were the cure. Wyatt’s words.
And Sabine’s tears—they healed me. When he’d been in that hallway, it hadn’t been her blood that had brought him back. It had been her tears. So that part of the phoenix story was true, too. The tears of a phoenix could heal.
He glanced over at Vivian. “You’re dying,” he said to the doctor. There was so much blood pouring off her. She probably only had minutes left.
Her chin lifted. “So, is . . . she . . .”
Sabine’s lips feathered over Ryder’s palm. Maybe she isn’t.
“The tears . . . they can’t, won’t heal a phoenix’s own injuries, but they can heal me.” The woman came closer, leaving drops of blood in her wake. “They can heal me . . . then I can heal her.”
The fingers of his left hand slid over Sabine’s cheek. So soft. Sweet silk. He’d missed her so much. A constant ache had filled his chest.
It wasn’t about Sabine being some kind of second chance at redemption for him. It was about Sabine being—
Mine.
“The male . . . he would never cry—”
“No matter how many times you killed him, huh?” Ryder threw at her.
Sabine’s lips moved against him again. Then her teeth—sharper than he remembered, bit into his wrist.
Yes!
But he didn’t let the doctor see his relief.
“She was different . . .” Those footsteps kept shuffling closer. “Sabine cried each time she died.”
The f**king bitch dared to tell him that?
“She begged for us to save her . . . Sometimes, she’d even beg for you.”
His teeth snapped together. The woman was digging her own grave with her clinical, sadistic words.
“Then she’d cry when she rose.” Her breath heaved out. The scent of blood deepened. “Maybe it’s because she was so young. The first phoenix we captured, hell, we can’t . . . even tell how old he is. The Immortal,” Vivian whispered.
The Immortal? Was she talking about Cain?
“He didn’t break. Subject Thirteen . . . didn’t break, either . . .”
Fuck. Cain was Subject Thirteen. So that meant, hell, there was another phoenix lurking around someplace?
“They didn’t break. Sh-she did. And I need her tears . . . need more of them . . .”
Ryder kept his hand at Sabine’s mouth, but he sensed the attack coming from the doctor. He waited, waited, then he twisted his body. His left hand came up and caught the stake that the bitch had tried to shove into him. “I’m not drugged,” he gritted out. “I’m not in a cage. So you can’t control me, and you sure as hell can’t kill me.”
He snapped the stake in his hand. His gaze drifted over her as his nostrils flared. “You took a shot in the chest, huh? From one of the monsters or from your own guards?” Because they’d broken. He’d seen them. Shooting at anything or anyone who got between them and the red exit signs.
When the prisoners broke free and you’d been the one playing jailer and executioner, you had to know your ass was about to get tortured before death. Run, run, humans. Run.
But wherever they ran, the monsters would find them.
“You’re already dead,” Ryder told her, because the wound to her chest was too deep. “And it’s an easier death than you probably deserve.”
He pushed her away.
But she shook her head. “Th-there’s a syringe. A formula . . . it can stop the fire from consuming her!”
Desperation shook the words. A desperate woman would say anything, especially if she thought her lies would help her to keep living.
“Give me your . . . blood!” Vivian’s voice was weakening. “Give it to me . . . and I will give you . . . the formula . . .”
Ryder stared at her, barely holding back his fury. If Sabine didn’t need to keep feeding from him . . .
His jaw locked and he managed to growl, “The fire won’t take her.”
Vivian shook her head. “It will! Your blood . . . won’t stop her change, it won’t—”
“Three times,” he said.
She shook her head again.
“For humans, it just takes one blood exchange for the transformation.” For a human to take a last gasp of air as a mortal, and to awake as a vampire.
Her eyes widened. “You didn’t—”
“For Sabine, since she was far from human, it took three exchanges.” Maybe because her DNA was so strong. The vampire blood had needed time to sink into her cells. To bond. But the proof was unmistakable. When he glanced over her body, he saw that her wounds were closing. She was drinking his blood. She had fangs. Her teeth were sharper because they weren’t normal canines any longer. His Sabine had transformed with this blood exchange.
He hadn’t managed to stop her from dying that first terrible night in his cell. But Sabine would never die again.
His blood guaranteed it.
He didn’t expect Vivian to charge at him. But she did. With an infuriated scream, the redhead slammed into him and tried to pull Ryder away from Sabine. “Stop!” Vivian shrieked. “You’re ruining her!”
With his left hand, he shoved her back, and never took his right wrist from Sabine’s mouth. “I’m saving her. She doesn’t want the fire.” And how did Vivian have this strength? With that bullet wound to her chest, she should be barely managing to stay upright.
Not attacking.
“You’ll make her . . . less . . .” The last word was a hiss.
He stiffened. “You have five seconds to get out of here, or I’ll kill you.” He never liked hurting women, but that Vivian—she’d hurt Sabine. The doctor was already dying.
“Bastard!” But Vivian’s feet stumbled toward the door. “You’ll regret this! She’ll…hate you! She had the power of a god . . . and you’re turning her into just another . . . bl-bloodsucker!”
His head turned. His gaze met hers. “You should be on the ground. Choking on your own blood.” The wound had slowed her, yes, it was bleeding, almost gushing blood, but . . . Calculation had his eyes narrowing. “What are you, doctor? Are you an experiment, too, like Wyatt was?”