You found the bloodstains in his home, yet you refused to believe he was truly dead. If he had survived, there was only one place he could be-the hideout. Driven by fear, hope, and desperation, you rushed there.

The moment you stepped into the surveillance room, you saw him. Chained to the floor, pale and unsteady-he had bound himself, a last-ditch effort to protect others from his own frenzy.

Then he turned to you. And in his eyes, you saw the truth. This was not the Caleb you had grown up with. This was a Praedator.

You barely managed to snap a collar around his neck before he lunged, slamming you against the wall. Fingers curled around your chin, his breath warm against your skin.

"You...walked right into my trap," he rasped, voice rough with hunger.