“I could say the same about you,” I mutter. Missing his Australian accent, with a sideways glance, I search his face for something recognizable—salt from a morning spent surfing—anything that will make him my Adam, but he remains a stranger. Fury that I was so easily duped bubbles to my lips, and I want answers. I stop walking. “Your real name is Nash?”

“Yes.” He takes me in. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to tell you that.”

My throat aches, but I refuse to cry. “Was any of it real? Self-Awareness? Sam?”

He frowns. “Technically, I’m not allowed to answer that…”

Narrowing my eyes, I grit my teeth. “You just did.” I wriggle from his grasp and back away from him.

“You didn’t let me finish.” He catches my hand before I can escape, and holds me in place. “I know you want answers.”

“I don’t want to hear any more lies, that’s for sure.” My lips tremble.

“I totally owe you the truth…” He falls silent. Seconds pass, and, seeming to make up his mind, he takes a deep breath. “My first mission after my initiation was to steal your Book of Secrets.”

My jaw drops. “You stole my book? But how? You were live on Deena’s feed when my hotel room was broken into.”

“I didn’t physically steal it, but I knew where it was.” He sighs, his eyes rolling skyward before returning to my face. “There are Disconnects everywhere, Ella. We had a contact on set. Do you remember Crystal Harrison?”

Crystal knows Adam? For the second time since he came back into my life, it’s like the wind has been knocked out of me. She stole my book? My brain whirls.

“Why did you want my book?” I ask. “Who hired you?”

Shifting his weight, he wrinkles his nose. “That, I can’t tell you.”

“So much for the truth.” Throwing his hand off, I move to stomp away, but he clasps my wrist, halting me.

“It was the people you’ll work for once you’re initiated. That’s all I can say. But you’ll see… I’m on your side. Ask me anything else. I’ll be honest. Promise.”

“Please stop touching me.” I snatch my wrist away. “I won’t run if you’re going to give me answers.”

He lets me go, and I take a step back to create distance between us.

“How did whoever hired you know about my book?” I ask, my hands on my hips. “I never took it out in public.”

“You mean you thought you were invisible hiding under dining room tables?” He laughs. “Corporates have computer chips in everything—they have cameras in their shoes. And you can imagine how valuable that information was to the Disconnects and Corporates alike. To have a list of who can and can’t be trusted? Of their dirty little secrets?”