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It sounded like an explosion.

A roar tears through the metal ward, quickly followed by wild, erratic bangings. The immortal shifter throwing himself repeatedly against the enclosures. If I were to only walk further in the direction of the sound, I'd see the gruesome smears of blood painting the unbreakable glass.

But like always, I stifle down bile and turn away. Armed men rush past me, going to subdue the man, speakers blaring out commands.

"Hold him down!" one of them orders harshly.

"He's too strong! We need reinforcement."

I make my way down the linoleum floors, making sure to keep my gaze down and away from the transparent prisons. White LED light shines down, the air rife with the cloying scent of antiseptic, death, and decay. I clutch my logbook closer to me, my chest constricting with each breath I pull in.

Rounding into the clinic, I head toward Dr. Sarah's cubicle.

She looks up when I drop the book in front of her. "Here. All done," I say with a forced chirp.

She grabs it immediately. Her eyes scan the report rapidly from behind her glasses. "Odd," she muses under her breath. "Experiment 107 doesn't seem to be reacting to the substance."

My throat tightens and I have to stop myself from shuffling on my feet. I hate the way they refer to the Shifters as experiments. I stop my musings abruptly once I realize the pronoun I'd used. They.

As the months progress, I realize I've started to see myself apart from them. Which is a dangerous thing, because I am a Hunter. Will be until I die. 

Anything to protect him.

"Why is that?" I ask, bringing myself back to the present.

She looks up at me as if only realizing I am still in the office with her. "I have no idea. Either he's too strong or has developed a mutation from the previous shots that allows his system to be immune. Anyway, we move on to phase 2. Iridium."

My breaths seize and without thinking I blurt, "But that could kill him."

The office goes deathly quiet.

I had shown consideration for the enemy.

What the hell was that Gwen? I fire internally. 

Dr. Sarah seems to also be thinking the same thing because the eyes on me narrow. "And? What is one more death?" Her palms land smack down on the table, causing me to jump. "They've caused countless of ours!"

"I--"

"Am I right in thinking you're becoming a liability, Miss Owens? You know we don't hesitate to cut our losses."

I swallow, looking down at my feet. "I'm sorry, Dr. Sarah."

She sits back, throwing the logbook back at me. "Experiment 487. Check his vitals so we can begin working on him."

I have a bit of a struggle catching the book and after it dances precariously on my open palms, it lands on the floor. The picture staring back at me is his.

'Experiment 487.'

The organization's latest conquest. The Alpha king himself, Malcolm Blaine.

My heart slams against my chest and I pick up the book, palms clammy. Steel grey eyes stare up at me, seeming piercing and life-like even in the inanimate pages. A cold face peers through. So do a pair of high cheekbones, a proud aristocratic nose, and a strong jaw. The expression on his face is fierce, but that does nothing to distract away from his otherworldly beauty.