Ward’s smirk turns into something horrific, something monstrous as he continues, “Dr. Manning tried to help him, you know. To help me. To help us. He tried to help your Ward before it was too late. He realized the extent of what he’d gotten himself into and sought to make amends. He tried to get me out of Lengard, tried to warn Kael, to warn you. But my master discovered his intentions and dealt with him. Poor Dr. Manning.”

Everything in me turns cold. I whisper, “What happened to him?”

Ward’s expression is blank as he answers, “My master killed him, of course.”

Killed him.

Killed him.

Killed him.

Manning is dead.

Manning is dead.

My whole body is shaking but I manage to summon the strength to stand. I’m too unnerved to stay here any longer. I may not have cared much for my once-therapist after the role he played in Vanik’s lab last week, but he was still a human being. Still someone who was part of my daily life for over two and a half years. And Vanik—

Vanik killed him.

I don’t know what’s worse: knowing that Manning had a change of heart and tried to do the right thing, or knowing that if he’d come to warn us, I might not have believed him … and he’d still have ended up dead.

I can’t think about this now. I won’t grieve for a man who did such horrible things to me, to my friends. But I will lament the man he might have become, if given the chance.

A chance Vanik took from him.

Anxious buzzing fills my stomach, moving all the way up my chest and along my limbs, making my fingers and toes tingle as hypervigilance sets in. My dread is so real that I can taste it, the bitter sensation of terror flooding my mouth.

I already knew Vanik was a psychopath—I already knew he had no scruples with taking human lives. He’s done so for years, all in the name of his experiments. But this? Murdering his friend?

He’s more dangerous than ever.

And I have less than twenty-four hours to stop him.

Suffocating on my thoughts, on my fears, I spin on my heel and head toward the ladder, desperate to leave the room.

I don’t say goodbye; there’s no point when it’ll just be considered a weakness, when Ward will likely mock me for the sentiment. I say nothing, my entire focus on keeping my breathing even and calm despite what I feel churning within me.

I’m at the base of the ladder, my hands gripping onto the first rungs, when Ward’s voice stops me.

“I enjoyed chatting with you, Six-Eight-Four. Enough that I’m willing to give you a bonus.”

I look back over my shoulder, not sure I want what he considers a “bonus.”