The lights went out.
For one terrifying second, the alley disappeared into darkness.
I couldn’t see Adrian.
I couldn’t see Evelyn.
I couldn’t see Martin.
I could only hear breathing.
Then someone grabbed my hand.
I nearly screamed.
—It’s me.
Adrian.
His voice was close.
—Stay with me.
I tightened my grip on his hand without thinking.
A second later, the lights flickered back on.
Everyone was still there.
But something had changed.
Martin was gone.
The silver key was gone with him.
—Where did he go?
—I asked.
Adrian looked toward the end of the alley.
—He disappeared.
Evelyn shook her head.
—He didn’t disappear.
She pointed toward the wall.
There was a narrow door.
I hadn’t noticed it before.
It was slightly open.
Adrian immediately moved toward it.
—Wait.
My mother stopped him.
—You can’t go in there.
Adrian turned.
—Why?
She looked at me.
—Because that’s where your father kept the things he didn’t want anyone to find.
My heart began beating faster.
—You’ve been there?
She nodded.
—Once.
—When?
—The night he died.
I stared at her.
—You were there?
My mother closed her eyes.
—Yes.
Everything inside me went still.
For six years, I’d believed my mother had been hundreds of miles away when my father died.
She had told me she’d left the country months before.
She had told me Daniel’s death was an accident.
She had told me there was nothing more to know.
And now she was standing in front of me, admitting she had been there.
—You lied to me.
Her eyes filled with tears.
—Yes.
I stepped back.
—Why?
—Because your father asked me to.
I laughed bitterly.
—Everyone keeps saying that.
My mother looked at Adrian.
—He asked me to protect you.
Adrian’s expression softened.
—He asked all of us.
I looked at him.
—Then why did you let me believe he died in an accident?
Adrian didn’t answer.
My mother did.
—Because the person who caused his death was still looking for you.
The words hit me harder than anything else that night.
—They were looking for me?
—Yes.
—Why?
She hesitated.
—Because Daniel had something they wanted.
—The file?
She nodded.
—But the file wasn’t the only thing.
I remembered Martin’s words.
Your family.
I looked at my mother.
—What else did Dad have?
She stared at the door.
—A list.
—A list of names?
—No.
She whispered: —A list of children.
The silence was immediate.
Adrian’s face changed.
—You didn’t tell me that.
—Daniel didn’t want you to know.
—Why?
My mother looked at him.
—Because your name was on it.
I felt the world tilt.
—Adrian?
He stared at her.
—What list?
She didn’t answer.
I looked between them.
—Someone explain.
My mother took a shaky breath.
—Years ago, Daniel discovered that several wealthy families had been secretly funding an organization.
—What organization?
—We never knew its real name.
—What did it do?
She looked at me.
—It recruited children from families with financial problems.
I frowned.
—For what?
—Information.
Adrian’s voice was quiet.
—They trained them to listen.
My mother nodded.
—To observe.
To carry messages.
To discover secrets adults thought were hidden.
I looked at Adrian.
—You were one of them?
He shook his head.
—Not willingly.
My mother continued.
—Your father found out when Adrian was sixteen.
I stared at Adrian.
Suddenly, the photograph made sense.
Daniel hadn’t been meeting a rich teenager.
He had been trying to protect him.
—That’s why you helped my father.
Adrian nodded.
—Yes.
—And that’s why he trusted you.
—Yes.
I looked at the door.
—Then what’s inside?
My mother answered: —Proof.
Adrian stepped closer.
—Proof of what?
She looked at him.
—That your father knew about the organization.
Adrian’s face went pale.
—My father?
—He wasn’t the person running it.
She paused.
—But he helped fund it.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
The powerful Blackwood family.
My father.
Adrian.
Children.
Secrets.
Everything seemed connected.
Then I remembered something.
—What about the person who killed my father?
My mother looked at me.
—We never proved who it was.
—But you said you knew.
—I said I know who was there.
—That’s different.
She nodded.
—Yes.
I stepped toward her.
—Who was there?
She looked at Adrian.
Then at Evelyn.
Then toward the door.
—All of us.
I stopped.
—All of you?
—Daniel, Adrian, Evelyn, Martin, me…
She swallowed.
—And one more person.
I felt a chill.
—Who?
My mother didn’t answer.
Instead, she looked at Adrian.
Adrian seemed to understand immediately.
—No.
My mother whispered: —I’m sorry.
Adrian stepped back.
—He wasn’t there.
—You don’t know that.
—I would know.
—You were unconscious.
Adrian froze.
I looked at him.
—What is she talking about?
He didn’t answer.
My mother said: —Adrian was found unconscious outside the house that night.
I remembered the flash of memory.
The hallway.
Adrian holding my father’s watch.
My father’s voice telling him to take me and run.
But there was something I hadn’t remembered.
What happened after that?
I closed my eyes.
Another memory surfaced.
A door opening.
Someone entering.
A man’s voice.
Where is the girl?
My eyes opened.
I grabbed Adrian’s sleeve.
—Someone was looking for me.
He stared at me.
—What?
—I remember.
Everyone became silent.
I spoke slowly.
—Someone entered the house.
Adrian’s face changed.
—What did you hear?
—He asked where the girl was.
My mother covered her mouth.
—Sophia…
—Then my father said he would never tell him.
Adrian stared at me.
—You remember.
—A little.
I looked at him.
—Then I heard something fall.
—What?
—Your watch.
Adrian looked down at his wrist.
He was wearing a watch.
Old.
Silver.
My father’s.
I stared at it.
—That’s my father’s watch.
Adrian looked at it.
—He gave it to me.
—When?
—That night.
My breathing became unsteady.
—Why?
Adrian looked at me.
—Because he knew he wasn’t going to make it out.
Silence.
I touched the watch carefully.
For a moment, another memory appeared.
My father placing it into Adrian’s hand.
Take her.
Adrian’s younger voice.
What about you?
My father.
Don’t worry about me.
Then another voice.
A woman’s voice.
My mother’s.
Daniel, we have to go.
The memory vanished.
I opened my eyes.
My mother was crying.
—You were there.
She nodded.
—Yes.
—Why did you leave me?
She looked broken.
—I didn’t.
—Then why was I alone?
She didn’t answer.
I realized something.
—You didn’t leave me.
My mother shook her head.
—No.
—Someone made you leave.
She nodded.
—Your father did.
I couldn’t understand.
—Why?
—Because he knew they would follow me.
I stared at her.
—And you let me stay with him?
—He believed you were safer with him.
I looked toward the hidden door.
—Until that night.
My mother nodded.
—Until that night.
A sound came from behind the door.
Everyone froze.
Three soft knocks.
Not from outside.
From inside.
Adrian stepped closer.
—Someone’s in there.
My mother grabbed my arm.
—No.
The knocking came again.
Three times.
I looked at her.
—Who is inside?
She whispered: —I don’t know.
The door slowly opened.
There was a narrow staircase descending into darkness.
No one moved.
Then a small light turned on at the bottom.
Adrian looked at me.
—Stay here.
I shook my head.
—No.
—Sophia— —I’ve spent six years being told what I can and can’t know.
I stepped onto the first stair.
—I’m done listening.
Adrian followed.
Evelyn stayed behind with my mother.
We descended slowly.
The air became colder.
At the bottom was a small room.
A desk.
Several locked cabinets.
Old photographs.
Boxes.
And on the wall…
a huge map of Greybridge.
I stepped closer.
Hundreds of red marks covered it.
Adrian stared.
—What is this?
I pointed at one of the marks.
—That’s my school.
Another.
—That’s Westbridge University.
Another.
—That’s Blackwood Manor.
Adrian looked at the map.
Then his expression changed.
He pointed to one final red mark.
It was in the center of the city.
—That’s where Daniel worked.
I shook my head.
—No.
A photograph on the desk caught my attention.
I picked it up.
It showed my father.
My mother.
Adrian.
Evelyn.
Martin.
All standing together.
But there was someone else.
A young woman.
I didn’t recognize her.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written: THE SIX WHO KNEW.
I counted the faces.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Then I noticed something.
There were seven names written beneath the photograph.
Daniel Bennett.
Elena Bennett.
Adrian Blackwood.
Evelyn Carter.
Martin Carter.
And…
My name.
Sophia Bennett.
The seventh name had been crossed out.
I stared at it.
—Why is my name here?
Adrian took the photograph from me.
His face went pale.
—Because you weren’t supposed to be one of the six.
—Then who was?
He turned the photograph over.
A final line had been written underneath the names.
THE SEVENTH REMEMBERS EVERYTHING.
I looked at Adrian.
—What does that mean?
Before he could answer, a light came on behind us.
We turned.
A projector had activated by itself.
A video appeared on the wall.
My father.
Alive.
He looked directly into the camera.
And said: —Sophia, if you’re watching this, then I’m already dead.
I stopped breathing.
He continued: —There is something I never told you.
He looked frightened.
—You were not the only child they were watching.
The video flickered.
Then my father’s face disappeared.
A new image appeared.
A photograph of Adrian at sixteen.
Beside him was another boy.
I recognized the face.
It was the boy from the photograph.
The one who had been standing beside my father.
The man who had just given me the key.
Martin.
But he looked sixteen.
And underneath the photograph were two words: ADRIAN’S BROTHER.
I turned toward Adrian.
He was staring at the screen.
—That’s impossible.
His voice barely came out.
—I’m an only child.
The projector flickered again.
A final sentence appeared.
ASK ADRIAN WHAT HAPPENED TO HIS BROTHER.
And somewhere above us, the hidden door slammed shut.