“What the hell?” demanded Stell. “You better have something groundbreaking after that stunt.”

Eli faltered for only a second, then straightened, committed to his course.

“Actually,” he said coldly. “I hit a dead end.”

It wasn’t a lie.

Suspicion flickered across Stell’s face. “That’s surprising, given how you’ve spent the last week. You seemed to be making strides.”

Eli swore inwardly. He’d been so stunned by the discovery, so eager for the confrontation, and so startled by his own recanting, he hadn’t considered the ramifications of changing his mind. The whiplash. A break in the pattern.

“Where did it fall apart?” pressed Stell.

“It hasn’t,” said Eli. “I just don’t have any more leads.”

“Then why the fuck did you call for me?” demanded the director.

Eli had made a mistake. He wasn’t prone to making mistakes, except where Victor Vale was concerned. Victor had always possessed the unnerving ability to get under Eli’s skin, interrupt his focus. And now Eli needed to disrupt Stell’s own, find a way to redirect his attention, twist suspicion into . . . something easier. Anger—that was such a loud emotion.

“I guess,” said Eli, infusing his voice with as much derision as he could muster, “I wanted to see what you would do. Now I know.”

Stell looked at him, mouth open in surprise. And then, predictably, it crumpled into fury. “Do you want me to send you back to the lab?”

“That threat is beginning to feel stale.”

Stell drew back, as if struck. “Is it?” he said darkly. “Allow me to refresh your memory.”

Eli tensed as Stell raised his wristwatch to his mouth and spoke into a hidden comm, the words too low for him to hear.

“Wait,” started Eli, his voice cut off by a metallic scrape overhead.

Four small sprinklers emerged from the ceiling at the front of the cell.

Icy water rained down, soaking Eli through in seconds.

He started to back up, but Stell’s voice made him stop.

“Don’t you dare retreat.”

Eli held his ground. “Fine.” He looked down at his hands, then up at Stell. “I won’t melt.”

“I know,” said the director grimly.

Eli barely heard the hum over the sound of the water. He realized too late what was happening, managed just a step toward the fiberglass before the current hit him.

It was everywhere. Tearing up his legs, arcing through his chest, lighting every nerve. Eli buckled to his hands and knees as the electricity tore through him, conducted through the water. Enough volts to level a small beast, but Eli’s own regeneration kept him conscious, caught in a suspended state of electrocution.

His jaw locked, a low, animal sound tearing between his teeth.