He had never talked to Lily Whitney-Miller, Ryland’s wife, about the science of what he could do, because he didn’t want anyone looking too closely at what he’d become. He didn’t want a spotlight turned on him—or any record made of his abilities. He especially didn’t want anyone to know about the extremely predatory and aggressive tendencies that he’d fought so hard to keep under control. Primal animal instincts, the need to hunt, even—if he was being honest—to kill. And in the early days, keeping those impulses in check had been a real struggle.
At first he’d wanted to believe Whitney had managed to plant those urges in him, but the more he read and understood about what Whitney had done to them all, the more he realized the enhancements could only bring out what was inside of him. It was beyond disturbing to realize such ugly, violent traits were part of his own nature. It hadn’t mattered that they were buried deep; they were still a part of him.
Jonas slipped over the boulder facing away from the trail, the one closest to the trees, deliberately blurring his body so that when he moved into the strange mirage, he was already becoming a part of it, so as not to disturb it. So he couldn’t be seen or felt.
An owl hooted, the notes a clear warning. That told him the sentry had eyes on the men inside the ring of boulders. The bird had noticed there was one less man seated at the fire and reported immediately. He waited, staying very still, absorbing the abnormal mist and its properties, breaking it down even as he listened for the instructions to the sentries. He knew whoever was guarding the region would have to tell the lookouts what to do next.
A few short notes replied, that of a Great Gray owl calling out to its mate—at least to an untrained ear, that was what it sounded like. Jonas stayed very still, forcing his energy to remain extremely low so he couldn’t be detected inside the web of mist, all the while fighting to control his surprise. That Great Gray owl cry—the orders being given to the watching animals in the woods—had come from a female. She had the sound of an owl down perfectly, but his ear was tuned so acutely, he could distinguish real from fake, no matter how good the mimicry was. And she was the best he’d ever heard.
Whitney had taken numerous girls from orphanages from countries all over the world. He’d also used in vitro to create designer babies to experiment on. His first idea had been to create pairs, a male and female. He used enhanced pheromones to make the pair attracted physically to one another so they would bond when he was certain he had the correct enhancements that would work together in the field. It was possible whatever was taking place above the homes of Teams One and Two was being run by a bonded pair.
The moment the woman had uttered her bird call, Jonas had pinpointed the direction from which the sound had come, but instead of rushing toward it, he stayed put and remained as still as stone, giving off so little energy it would be impossible to detect him, lowering his external body temperature so he gave off no heat signature. Whoever the woman was, she knew he was out here and she was, at the very least, directing the wolves and birds to keep watch on him. Rushing toward her now, while she and her sentinels were all on alert, was too risky. Best to hunker down for a while and wait for them to relax their guard.
Jonas had learned patience in a hard school when he was young. High-wire acts were dangerous, so was throwing knives. One misstep, and someone he loved could be hurt or killed. He had learned to always stay calm and not make mistakes. Now, with all his predatory instincts enhanced, he had become even more patient. He could wait hours in complete stillness.
For this hunt, he knew he had to be cautious. The mist contained traps that could detect him if he made a mistake. The animals in the forest were actively looking for him. Beneath his calm surface, he could feel the familiar rush of adrenaline, the predatory instincts taking hold. That trait in him was so powerful and aggressive, so dominant, that when the alpha of the sentinel wolf pack had resisted his very subtle influence, the urge to attack that wolf and rip out his throat had welled up like a volcano.
He suppressed the urge with ruthless control. Jonas was at his most dangerous when he was in hunting mode, and while some part of him hated the savagery Whitney’s experiments had unleashed in him, another part of him thrilled at the visceral intensity of those urges. He couldn’t deny the joy he felt each time he allowed himself the freedom to use his abilities, in spite of the ugliness of what he knew would ultimately be his fate.
Over the years, he had come to terms with the predatory side of his nature. Now, it was a matter of always keeping it under control. He honed his hunting skills every chance he got, knowing they would be an asset to his team, so long as his killer instincts were never allowed to take over. He had seen what happened if the monster got out of control. The entire team had. That could never happen again. That meant continually strengthening his discipline. Working on restraint. He didn’t let a day go by without performing the mental and physical exercises that allowed him to maintain complete control of himself.
He waited there without moving until darkness had finally fallen, bringing with it a sliver of a moon. His blood moved through his veins like thick lava, slow and hot, though from the skin out, he’d gone as cold as ice. That was the way he kept his energy level so low, it was impossible to detect.
At last he began to make his way up toward the grove of trees from which the woman had issued her earlier call. The mist grew thicker the higher up he went. He was in full predatory mode, switching between using the vision of an owl and that of a leopard to traverse the misty forest with ease. He could also use wolf vision when he needed to, but the owl and leopard both had superior night vision.
It had taken some time to sort out the fact that he had the skills of each of the three predators in him, along with their individual drives. Those weren’t the only predators Whitney had put in him either. Not by a long shot. He was a mixture of far too many predatory species, all of which brought out the worst in him—this tremendous joy in the hunt. This endless, gnawing hunger for it.
He had tried to hide what he was from Ryland and his fellow teammates, too ashamed to let them see what he’d become, but there were times on a mission . . . And then the nightmare finally happened, when there was no going back, and he’d been forced to stare at the truth of what kind of monster Whitney had truly created. They’d all been there. His friends. His teammates. In the end, he just had to come to terms with what he was and learn control.
As he continued his prowling trek up the mountain, he was more than a little surprised to see several types of plants and trees that grew only in the rain forests with high humidity. Jonas slowed down to get a better look. This section of forest could easily be part of some bioexperiment that had been going on for years. It was as if he’d stepped into a beautiful, mythical garden. Exotic flowering plants circled the bark of the trees, climbing high toward the canopy, draping branches in variegated or dark leaves and bright, velvety blossoms. The trees were also varieties that thrived only in warm, humid climates, yet they appeared extremely healthy, trunks wide, branches strong and leaves abundant.