My dad’s expression darkens. Now we’re getting to the part of the story that I know something about. Pretty soon, we’re going to be hitting the whole good-Mogadorian-saved-us-from-certain-death bit. My dad still hasn’t given up hope for Adam; he was checking his phone right before dinner. With him not getting in touch for this long, I’m starting to think he didn’t make it out. Dead or alive, I’m really not sure how Adam’s existence, and our involvement with him, is going to go over with the Garde.

“I assembled the Greeters myself. They were people I could trust—like-minded scientists working on the fringes. But I can’t remember their names or even their faces. The Mogadorians saw to that.”

My dad picks up his glass of champagne with a shaky hand and takes a quick drink. He makes a bitter face, like it didn’t help ease the pain of memory. Or lack thereof.

“We all knew the risks,” my dad continues, eventually. “We took them gladly. It was a chance to be part of something amazing. I still believe that,” he says with a note of pride, looking around at the Garde. “Just as the Mogadorians were searching for you, so were they searching for us. Obviously we were easier to find—we’d been living on Earth all our lives, you see. We had families. One by one they tracked us down. They hooked us up to machines, tried to rip out our memories, looking for anything that would help them in their hunt. It’s why there are so many things I’m still foggy on. I don’t know if the harm they did to me can ever be fixed.”

Ella shoots a look at Marina, then John. “Could you guys heal him?”

“We could try,” Marina replies, studying my dad. “I’ve never tried healing someone’s mind before, though.”

My dad runs a hand across his beard, frowning. “I was the only one that survived. I lost years to those bastards.” He looks over at me. “I intend to pay them back.”

“How did you escape them?” John asks.

“I had help. The Mogadorians had me sedated for years in a catatonic state, waking me up only when they had a new experiment to run on my mind. Eventually, though, a boy set me free.”

“A boy?” Marina asks, her eyebrow raised.

“I don’t get it,” Eight says. “How did someone manage to get into a Mog base? Was he one of the government agents? And why did he help you?”

Before my father can answer, Five speaks up. The way he’s eyeballing my dad, it’s like he’s already pieced together the entire story. “He wasn’t human, was he?”

My dad looks first at Five, then over at John before turning his gaze on me. “He called himself Adam, but his actual name was Adamus. He was a Mogadorian.”