He tapped a video into motion. The split screen showed Quanta’s vitals as I passed her the breakfast tray and I gritted my teeth against what was coming next. The playback moved seamlessly, but one moment both of us looked fresh and well-rested and the next I was gripping the table to stand and Quanta looked like she was wearing a mask of her own face. With deep circles, sallow skin, and wildly differing statistics, the change in her couldn’t be missed.

A lead weight settled on my shoulders. I’d done everything Doctor Nagi had hoped.

He didn’t seem to know what the video meant yet, but the differences were glaring enough that he wouldn’t let them go. He’d dig until he had hypotheses and then facts.

And the clones…

What if they had the same power? The visions were bad enough, but if Darren and Doctor Nagi could tap into Quanta’s ability to timewind…

They’d be unstoppable.

“No answer, Altair?” Doctor Nagi tilted his head to the side.

My hands balled into fists. I’d rather be tortured.

He stood and tapped into the wall panel mounted at the door. “Get me a truth serum tailored for Mr. Orpheus. And send Waldman. He’s needed to conduct the interrogation.”

The door closed, leaving me in silence. I pulled at my cords until my wrists went numb, but nothing. I wasn’t getting out of this.

Quanta was going to have to save us this time.

If I survived that long.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

QUANTA

“Quanta.” That voice sounded through a tunnel.

Was it Tair? Was he calling to me?

“Quanta.” The voice got pushier and my belly swooped. “I know you’re waking up.”

Not Tair.

Darren.

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, but I already knew too much. I’d been bound to a lab table and drugs fuzzed my head, making the few timeghosts I could see hazier than usual. I couldn’t even tell which were past or future and as soon as I tried to peek through time, claws scraped my brain.

As I gasped at the flash of pain, my eyes popped open.

“There you are.” Darren hovered over me. The sides of his white coat hung apart and the cloth brushed my arm, enveloping me in his gross body heat and that subtle ammonia scent that made my throat clench. Then I met his gaze and my gut clenched, too. His eyes looked electric green—a sure sign he was pissed and about to do something I’d hate.

A lot.

The drugs made me sluggish, sparing me from seeing the future clearly, but the fuzzy blobs of color told me as much as I wanted to know. I wasn’t getting out of this any time soon.