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mice that decorated the toes of her socks. “I mean, are you trying for a world record in VD?”
    Carina snorted and winked at me before whirling in the other direction. “We can’t all be frigid, virginal bitches, can we?”
    Boss-man cleared his throat. “Settle down. We’re here to do drills, not trade insults.”
    Drills. That was vaguely familiar. Cain had been doing them with the group since he’d first arrived. Anderson paired everyone off based on ability, and had us practice on each other. The drills weren’t scheduled, and Anderson liked to pull us out of bed in the middle of the night to keep us on our toes. There’d been a speech when Cain first arrived. Something about dealing with unpleasant circumstances and respecting authority. Also something about discipline… I couldn’t remember it all—probably because Cain had tuned most of it out.
    “We’re going to do the pairing a little differently tonight. Teams are as follows…” He rattled off a list of names, and when he came to mine, he said, “Cain, you’re with Devin.”
    He stepped aside to reveal Devin—the outspoken brunette with the mice on her toes who, apparently, wasn’t the least bit happy about the situation. “Are you serious ? Mr. Grabby hands?”
    Grabby hands?
    I took a step toward her and a rush of images flooded my mind. Cain’s first day here. Several abrasive comments. Roaming hands and warm flesh. A hard slap to the face. Heat rose in my cheeks and a wave of heat hit like a brick to the balls, stopping me dead. “I grabbed your—”
    She held up a hand, scowling. “Don’t even. Let’s just get through this and be done with it.” Jerking her head to the right, she headed into the far corner of the room without another word.
    I followed, trying hard to sift through the sludge that was Cain’s memory. It would have been helpful to know what her ability was, but I was coming up blank. Random pictures and pieces of conversation—none of it the least bit relevant to my current situation. A conversation with a short blond guy about racing, Carina and Cain getting friendly behind the building, Cain’s arrival—walking down the main hallway as the others lined up to watch. The harder I tried to focus, the sicker I felt.
    I was going to have to wing it.
    My name is Brandt Cross, and my father told me once that the ability to adapt was the key to survival…
    Devin folded her arms and leaned against the wall—as far away from me as possible. “Okay. Explain how your ability works. Something to do with barging into people’s minds and taking away their free will, right?”
    She wanted me to explain how Cain’s ability worked? Fantastic. I didn’t understand the mechanics of it myself.
    Ginger arranged this whole thing. She’d used her contacts to find this place, then somehow—I didn’t want to know the details—got a hold of a list of newish recruits. She picked the one that had the most useful ability, and sent me to step in. Personally, I found the whole set-up a little cold. Technically, she’d asked me to kill someone without even blinking an eye. The old woman had a detached way of approaching delicate situations that almost made it seem like she didn’t care.
    I was in a unique position since I could technically be anyone. It made me a powerful asset—one the old woman had used without a hesitation. I’d done things for her since my untimely demise… Things that ranged from questionable to downright horrific—all because I’d seen firsthand the lengths Denazen was willing to go to get what they wanted.
    But even I had a line. Murder? I was more of a pacifist. Live and let live used to be my motto. And while I didn’t regret doing it, the memory of Dez’s dream a constant, haunting reel of film playing on repeat inside my head, I still hated myself. Cain had been a bastard, but who was I to play judge, jury, and executioner?
    “Well?” Devin prodded. The way she tilted her head, arms folded and eyes