We look at him—identical twins, the same petrified mien. A gust of cold air ruffles my long sleeves, searing my skin in goose bumps. How long has he been standing there? I try to catch Angela’s eye, but she stares resolutely at the ceiling, our conversation paused. He strolls into the chamber.

“The party was hyper chouette last night! Sound familiar?” Smug victory stiffens his mouth.

I rack my brain for the exact wording of that email and remember the term look-holes. Yet another way I underestimated my sister; I assumed her English had dipped in those three years, that she might call peepholes “look-holes.” The guilt returns, and I focus on calcified dirt until the lump in my throat dissolves.

Seb crosses to a corner. He flicks a switch on the generator, and the metal box whirs to life in a low growl. “Now that I’ve paid another visit to the hospital, we can move on to next steps.”

Before I can react, he’s on me, and I grab at a rock behind me a second too late. He whips out a syringe and yanks up my sleeve. Seb’s face is reserved as he leans in close. “Shayna,” he says, not unkindly. “It’s time for blood work.”

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Electrical cords explode from a thin, silver laptop, leading to various areas of the room. The wide laptop screen displays the entrance with the narrow hallway just out of view beyond; the lower-right-hand corner of the screen displays the fork in the path another fifty feet outside and closer to freedom, ready to transmit images of anyone coming to our rescue—or escaping. Following the line of sight, I spy the wireless camera wedged between studs overhead.

Seb arranges his supplies in a steel cabinet, talking over his shoulder. “I have everything necessary for the preliminary experiments—the anesthesia, antibacterial wipes, antiseptic.”

“Please don’t do this.” I clear the rasp from my throat. “You can let us go.”

He pauses tinkering with plastic bottles. “But I can’t, Shayna,” he says softly.

“You can.” I press on, hearing the hesitation in his voice. “Let us go, and we’ll give you a head start and everything before going to the police.”

His head dips back as though examining the ceiling. Then he crosses to Angela, grabs the section of zip tie between her wrists, and drags her to the adjacent wall, beside the black pit of the entrance within the camera’s scope. Taking a chain from the ground, he loops it through her linked arms, then secures it to a hook protruding from the wall with a metal lock. Pocketing the key, he turns to me.