Prologue They were created, not born. They were trained, not raised. They weren't meant to be free, to laugh, to play or to love. They were men and women whose souls had been forged in the fires of hell. Jonas Wyatt stared at the files in front of him, the reports of the Breeds and their mates; men and women who had found something unique. A Mating unlike anything most humans could know or understand. One that may very well turn world opinion against them now. They were Breeds. Genetic alterations that had somehow found the grace of God, or whatever deity existed. They had survived, not just the genetic alterations, but also the cruelties their creators had heaped upon them for decades. The Genetics Council. He ran his fingers over his short, military-cut hair and breathed out roughly as the tattoo on his scalp tingled beneath the short spikes of his hair. F2-07. His lab designation and birth ranking that the Genetics Council had assigned to him. The Genetics Council had been created nearly a century ago, a group of the greatest scientific, biological, physiological and genetic experts in the world at that time. They had funded the first Lab, started the first experiments. Monsters with no conscience, no remorse and no compassion. He grimaced as he pushed himself from his chair and stalked to the