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other life in the room. Dragos had sent him to the police station. Chase meant to send the Minion back to the son of a bitch in pieces.
    He swung his gaze away from Tavia Fairchild and ripped loose from her distracting grasp. “Where is Dragos?” He tightened his fist around the senator’s arm and squeezed until he felt bones crack and pop against his palm. “Tell me now.”
    The Minion only howled in agony.
    “Stand down!” shouted one of the cops from behind him in the lineup room. There was a scuffle of foot movement, a blur of motion in the viewing room as federal agents and the officers inside hustled to get Tavia clear of the struggle.
    Chase squeezed the senator harder, shattering his forearm in a bruising grip. “I’m gonna find him. And you’re gonna tell me where, you goddamn waste of—”
    Something sharp slammed into his shoulder from behind. Not a bullet, but the piercing bite of fine twin barbs. Like fishhooks, sunk deep into his flesh. His ears filled with the rapid
clickety-clickety
staccato report of a Taser being discharged. At the same time, his body was pumped with fifty thousand volts of electricity. The current went through him in a violent jolt. The juice lit him up from scalp to heel, making his muscles scream in protest.
    Chase roared, more from fury than pain. The hit was about as debilitating as a bee sting to one of his kind. He took a step forward, one hand still fastened on Senator Clarence, the other swinging around to find a better hold.
    “For fuck’s sake,” someone in the viewing room gasped. “Did anyone check this guy for drugs? What the hell is he on?”
    One of the feds in a dark suit had his semiauto out of its holster. “Hit this bastard again!” he commanded. “Take him down, damn it, or I’ll make it permanent right here and now!”
    Another Taser shot found its mark. The barbs latched on to the center of his spine this time, and he took another round of fifty thousand volts. The double whammy did the job well enough. Chase lost his grip on his prey. The instant Clarence was freed, several cops and feds rushed him and Tavia out of the room.
    Chase swung his left arm around to rip away the electrodes that were stuck in the meat of his other shoulder. With the current from the second shot still riding his central nervous system, he charged the broken windowsill and made a clumsy leap onto the cracked metal frame.
    The federal agent opened fire. So did one of the uniformed officers in the viewing room beside him.
    Bullets chewed into Chase’s chest and torso. Round after round, knocking him backward onto his heels. He staggered, looking down at the mess of red that was blooming all over him.
    Not good. Not fucking good at all, but he was Breed. He could survive it.
    And there was still a chance that he could get his hands on Dragos’s Minion before the cops whisked him out of the station …
    While the fed reloaded his empty weapon, one of the straggler cops in the nearly empty viewing room edged forward, service pistol trained on Chase. “Stay where you are!” The cop was young, and his voice cracked a little, but his aim was steady. “Don’t you fucking move, asshole.”
    Chase was dripping blood like water through a sieve. It pooled around his feet and in the broken glass that littered the floor. He took a step back, reaching inward for the speed and agility that was part of who—and what—he was. But the power wouldn’t respond to his call.
    His body was already compromised from the Bloodlust that had been nipping at his heels for so many months.
    And he was losing blood. Too much, too fast.
    But he could still smell Dragos’s Minion somewhere in the building. He knew the mind slave was still within his reach, and there was another part of him—a tarnished bit of chivalry in him—that bristled at the thought of letting an innocent woman get within ten feet of one of Dragos’s soulless servants.
    He would see the Minion dead before he’d willingly