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“And you know that how?” Otto said. “You’re going to butcher a woman who saved everyone in this room … to test out a theory?”

Klimas’s hand flexed on the pistol. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

Otto looked from man to man, searching for support, finding none. His fists tightened until his hands shook.

Cooper almost felt bad for the dude. Almost. At least he didn’t have to watch his wife transform into a monster.

Tears formed in Otto’s eyes, spilled over, left thin trails of clean, wet brown through the dust that coated his skin.

“This isn’t just about Margaret,” he said. “She’s pregnant. Just take some of her blood. A couple of pints — that won’t kill her.”

Pregnant? Cooper looked back at the woman tied to the chair. Didn’t matter if she was. Why should she get to live when Jeff turned into a thing, and Sofia turned into dinner?

Cooper hadn’t wanted to kill Sofia, he hadn’t, but killing her had kept him alive. He could still taste her … still taste her charred skin … still taste the juice that had dribbled from her steaming flesh …

I had to do it had to do it I had no choice no choice at all.

Feely started to speak, then paused. He was trying to find the right words.

“She’s lying,” he said finally. “And even if she’s not, if she actually is pregnant, then the baby is also one of them.”

The last bit of fight slid out of Agent Otto, as clearly as if someone had pulled a hidden plug and let it drain away.

Klimas spoke again, softer this time.

“If you want to say your good-byes, Otto, you need to do it now.”

Clarence sniffed back snot, hissed in a breath. More tears formed.

“Okay,” he said. He nodded, slowly at first, then with exaggerated motion. “Okay, I … I see it. That’s the way it has to be.”

“Go for a walk,” Klimas said. “You don’t need to be here for this.”

Otto’s eyes squeezed tight. He pinched hard on the bridge of his nose.

“No,” he said, his voice hollow and hoa.r.s.e. “If she has to be set free, I’ll do it.”

The big SEAL wearing the ridiculous Chicago Bears jacket sniffed sharply, then turned and walked away. The other one, Bosh, just stared at the ground.

Klimas held his pistol in his right hand. With his left, he reached to his side and drew a wicked-looking Ka-Bar knife. He flipped it, held it by the seven-inch blade, and offered it handle-first to Otto.

“I’ll honor your request,” Klimas said. “But if you try anything, I’ll put you down, and then she dies anyway.”