“You ARE different!” Sophie shouted. “Fitz only did those things to stop you from hurting anyone else!”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Alvar said, coughing so hard he had to lean against the window. “But I’ll tell you this: If anyone’s going to add to the infamous Vacker legacy, it’ll be Fitz. Just wait and see.”

“Well, fun as this is,” Ro said, breaking the seething silence that followed, “we should get this charming prisoner to the Black Swan or the Council or whoever we want to hand him over to.”

Alvar barked a wheezy laugh. “You’re not handing me over to anyone.”

Ro showed him all of her pointed teeth. “Wanna bet, Whiny Boy? That’s what I’m calling you from now on, by the way, because that’s all I’ve heard you do. Wah wah wah, nobody appreciates me—”

“They don’t!” Alvar interrupted. “And it’s always a mistake. You’re making it right now. You should be cutting a deal with me.” His eyes locked with Keefe as he added, “I know things.”

Keefe applauded slowly. “Wow, that was the most desperate bluff I’ve ever seen.”

“Was it?” Alvar asked. “Then how come I know why you’re here? I also know what was in those little black bottles you’re never going to find because they’ve been gone for years.”

“How did—” Sophie started to ask.

“I heard you,” Alvar told her.

“From the hundred-and-thirty-seventh floor,” Keefe noted, raising one eyebrow. “That’s the story you’re sticking with? Need I remind you that I lived here—that I know how soundproof this place is? And don’t try to pretend you were following us—I felt you up here. And if you’d somehow headed to this floor before us, we would’ve heard you use the vortinator.”

Alvar coughed again. “The fact that you can’t figure out how I did it only proves my value.”

“See, and I’m pretty sure what it really proves is that when it comes to disappointing family members, I’ll always win,” Keefe muttered, stalking closer—and for a second Sophie wondered if he was going to punch Alvar. Instead, he leaned as close as he dared and asked, “What deal did you make with my dad?”

“What?” Sophie asked, but Keefe kept his focus on Alvar.

“My dad hailed you to warn you that we were coming here, didn’t he?” Keefe asked. “He knows this is where you’ve been hiding—that’s why he offered to give Fitzy information about where to find you.”

Sophie sucked in a breath, feeling equal parts stunned at how fast Keefe had put all of that together and ashamed of herself for missing it completely.

“So again,” Keefe said quietly—ominously. “What deal did you make with my father?”

Alvar, to his credit, held Keefe’s stare. “Like I said. I know things. And you’re not the only one with questions about your past. I offered to answer one for your father when he found me hiding out here, and he agreed to let me stay. And now here you are—desperately searching for two long-gone black bottles. And here I am, the only one who can tell you about them. I even know a little about your legacy. And I’m willing to share. But it’ll cost you my freedom—and if you think you can pluck the information from my head, Sophie, remember, I grew up with a Telepath for a father. I know how to keep a secret. That’s why I have nine fake stories tangled up with the truth, and you’ll waste months trying to figure out which one’s real. Or you can pretend you never saw me, and I’ll tell you what I know as I leap away. Your choice.”

“No deal,” Keefe decided immediately. “If we let you go, the next person you hurt is on us—”

“Look at me!” Alvar interrupted before lapsing into another coughing fit. “Do I look capable of hurting anyone? I can barely stand up!” He pulled back his wrinkled sleeves, showing them how his arms were nothing more than skin stretched over bone. Same with his legs when he hitched his pants up to his calves. “I may have escaped that pod—but whatever was in that orange solution still killed me. It’s just a slow, painful death—I’m sure my brother would approve.”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t try to take someone with you when you go,” Keefe argued. “Like, hey, maybe Fitz, since it sounds like you have a few issues with your brother.”

Alvar laughed darkly. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it. And if there’d been any way…” He shook his head. “The truth is, if I went after Fitz, he’d kill me. And the one thing I have left is getting to choose how and where I die. And… I just want to be somewhere quiet.”

“Prisons are quiet,” Sandor noted.

Alvar laughed again, the sound morphing into yet another coughing fit. “I’m not going back to that miserable prison. And I’m not going through more Tribunals, or letting the Council parade me around like their little trophy.”

“You deserve worse than that,” Sophie told him.

“THIS IS WORSE!” Alvar shouted. “Don’t you get that? You’ve already beaten me! All I’m asking for now is a chance to die on my own terms, and I’m willing to tell you what you want in order to get it—how can you pass that up?”

“Easily,” Keefe told him. “Knowing you, you’ll just feed us a lie—”

“And here I thought Empaths had a handy way of making sure that didn’t happen,” Alvar interrupted, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. “I’ll let you hold my hand as I share what I know, so you can feel whether or not I’m lying. And when you see that I’m telling you the truth, you let me go, and I step into a beam of light and find somewhere else to hide for however long I have left.”

“Are you even strong enough to light leap?” Sophie had to ask.

Alvar coughed. “That’s my problem, not yours—and a risk I’m willing to take.”

“How do you know I won’t hold on to you even if you are telling the truth?” Keefe countered. “Pretty sure you’re not strong enough to pull your hand free.”

“Also a risk I’m willing to take,” Alvar said quietly. “Because your mom planned everything so carefully—but I knew the moment I met you, you’ll never be who she wants you to be. Remember that, okay? Consider it my parting gift, since I always liked you more than I liked my actual little brother.”

Keefe turned away, and Sophie wished she had her gloves on so she could reach for his hand, knowing how hard those words must’ve hit him.

There’d been a time when Keefe had thought of Alvar like a brother too.

Looked up to him—wanted to be him.

And now…

“No matter what happens next, you can still be you,” Alvar promised Keefe. “But you’re probably going to have to fight a lot harder.”

“What does that mean?” Sophie demanded.

Alvar shook his head. “That’s all you get for free. If you want the rest, you have to let me go.”

He crossed his arms, pressing his chapped lips together. And Keefe opened his mouth, clearly ready to tell Alvar where he could shove his bargain—but Sophie stepped in front of Keefe so he could see the look in her eyes as she told him, “I think you should take the deal.”