A name that feels wrong right now, spoken from his lips when there’s no recollection in his green gaze. There’s no emotion, no feeling, no anything.

I’m so stunned by what this shell of Ward called me that the wall between us dissolves. Cami uses my distraction to break from my grip, and before I can reach for her again, she’s rushing toward her brother.

“Oh, Landon, I was so worried!” she cries, running to him with her arms open. She’s blinded by her love for him, her fear for him, her hope for him. Blinded by her faith in his protective ability, by the lies that so easily slip past his lips.

I, however, am not. And unlike her, I know that something is very, very wrong here.

That feeling only grows when a glint of triumph enters Ward’s eyes as he watches his sister approach.

“Cami!” I cry, lunging after her, every instinct in me shouting to run the other way. “Cami, stop!”

I infuse intent into my words, light flaring at my Spoken command. But nothing happens—Ward is two steps ahead, using his ability this time to keep mine from having any effect.

He’ll never let me use my power—there’s only one thing I can do.

I’m just behind Cami when she throws herself at him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. She doesn’t seem to realize that he’s not returning it, that he’s as tense as a slab of metal against her.

She doesn’t see what I see.

She doesn’t see the calculating, murderous look now gleaming in his eyes.

“Cami!” I scream again, finally reaching them and gripping her around the waist, tugging her backward and away.

He doesn’t try to stop me.

But she does.

“Lyss, stop it!” she yells into my face.

“That’s not your brother!” I yell back, fighting her as she struggles against me trying to haul her away.

“So dramatic, Six-Eight-Four,” Ward says, his voice as smooth and unruffled as silk.

Cami freezes in my arms.

Six-Eight-Four.

Ward has only ever called me that once before, and never in front of his sister. If nothing else, the horrible name seems to have knocked some sense into her.

“Landon?” she breathes, fear threading her voice.

“Camelot?” he returns, his tone mocking. Uncaring.

She shudders against me, but at least I no longer have to pull her away. She’s scurrying backward with me now out of her own free will.

But Ward is following us, his thick soles crunching over the debris-covered floor, eating up the length of the room as we attempt to escape.

“No, no, no. No getting away,” he says. “Not when I have you right where I want you.”