“Because you’re a better person than me, Six-Eight-Four,” he returns. “And I think you’re starting to realize that I’m not the villain here.”

His head tilts pointedly toward the closed door.

“Who is he?” I ask. “What does he want?”

“I don’t know.”

I stare at him. “You’re lying.”

Vanik holds my angry gaze. “I’m not. He’s been careful not to let me see his face. Before he injected himself with my prototype, I only saw Landon. After that, he looked like me. I have no idea who he really is. No idea what he wants. Just that it has something to do with you.” He points to the other side of the room and hesitantly adds, “And him.”

I don’t understand the reason for his hesitation, but as I follow his finger, my eyes sweep around the room for the first time. With the drug having fully kicked in, I now notice everything I missed when Ward first dragged me in.

Unlike the mostly bare room we just left, this room is set up like a laboratory—in fact, it’s exactly the kind of place I envisioned Vanik hiding out in after leaving Lengard. From the tiled floors and halogen lights to the cold storage and medical equipment—petri dishes, microscopes, centrifuges, and a host of other items—this room has everything required to produce and replicate the Creator serum.

But there’s more.

Because it’s not the equipment Vanik is pointing at.

He’s pointing at a white hospital bed on the far side of the room.

A hospital bed that is occupied.

My legs feel like they’re made of water as I rise unsteadily to my feet. Ward doesn’t stop me as I wobble my way across the tiles, but he does follow closely, as does Vanik.

With every step, my dread increases. My breathing turns ragged as I make out the form of a man hooked up to so many machines that it’s almost impossible to see his face. Almost impossible to make out his features.

But when I’m standing right beside him, I know.

Enjoy your family reunion, the security guard told me. For what it’s worth.

Looking down at the man, all I can do is breathe a single word.

“Dad.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Despite the machines he’s hooked up to, despite him being flesh and bones, despite his skin being as white as the sheet covering his body, I know I’m looking at my father.

“Is he … Is he …”

I can’t even get my question out. I’m afraid to move, afraid to touch him.

I saw him get shot in the chest at nearly point-blank range. I saw his eyes close. I saw him breathe his last.