She looks at me, calm as can be, even a little amused by my reaction. “Today’s June sixth—it’s Abby’s birthday. Every year without fail, she asks to go to the beach. Her whole family goes, despite it usually being miserably cold. Uncle Rick never lets her down.” She jerks a thumb at the closed door. “He’s not in there, Lyss.”

Uncle Rick. With everything happening, I’d forgotten how close Cami is with the Falons, that they essentially adopted her and Ward after their parents died.

“If Falon isn’t in his office, then why would your brother be here?” I ask, glancing at the compass and wondering if it’s working properly. Perhaps it’s merely pointing the way north. But then realization hits me and I feel the blood draining from my face.

“What’s wrong?” Cami asks.

I don’t answer. Instead, I look straight ahead and say, “Open.”

Light flares and the door obeys my command, allowing us to enter Falon’s office—his empty office. Just as I knew it would be. Because Ward isn’t in here; he’s beyond here.

I turn and stare at the touch screen beside the hidden wall exit, Cami gasping quietly with understanding.

“You think … You think he’s in the lab right now?” she asks. “Vanik could be doing anything to him!”

I’m frozen on the inside, but outwardly I try to remain calm, for Cami’s sake. I place a hand on her shoulder and say, “We don’t know anything for sure.”

“You saw his room—when was the last time he was in there?” she cries. “What if … what if he’s been experimented on like some lab rat for the last week? You barely survived a few hours!”

I push away the intrusive thoughts, the memory of my time in Vanik’s lab. There’s a metallic taste of fear in my mouth, my palms turning clammy. We’re not supposed to do anything except retrieve Ward and the breakout Speaker today. We’re not supposed to go anywhere near Vanik; Kael’s warning is playing over and over in my mind, the awareness that there could be catastrophic consequences if we do. But now … it seems as if we have no choice. If Ward is indeed with Vanik—or Manning— then to save him, a confrontation may be inevitable.

And yet, despite my thudding heart, I keep my tone steady as I say, “Then we’d better hurry up and go get him.”

Contingency plans are forming and crumbling in my mind as I consider ways I might trap Vanik, commands I might give to contain him. If we’re to confront him, I must be prepared. Despite these circumstances not being ideal, I have questions about my parents—so many questions. This just might offer the perfect opportunity to get some answers.