The bedroom is empty, and so is the rest of the house. My father is out. Maybe at work, maybe scheming to destroy someone else. Maybe, if he has an ounce of goodness in him, getting drunk and nerving himself up to jump off the tallest building in Eden. Bitterness consumes me, a hate that hurts, but I can’t fight.

I let Lark in. “We’re alone,” I say, and lead her to my father’s office. We’re looking for his security pass. I can only hope that he’s not staying late at work, but out somewhere else. If he’s at work, he’ll have his ID on him. I have no idea what we’ll do then. We might also need other security codes to pass Center security. Lachlan would know exactly what we need. I’m not so sure myself. Where is Lachlan?

I start to go through various documents in my father’s office.

“Can’t you find it?” Lark asks, glancing anxiously in the direction of the front door, listening for sounds of approach. I’m beginning to panic that I won’t be able to find it. What if he still has it on him? Do we wait for him to come home, and take it from him by force?

Finally I find it, shoved haphazardly in a drawer as if he just wanted to get rid of it in a hurry. “I’ve got it!” I cry excitedly, holding it up. “I think this is all we need. My father doesn’t seem to be very security-conscious.”

“Then let’s go,” she says urgently. “He could be back any minute.”

“I want to see if there’s anything else useful here. I don’t know what else we might need once we’re inside the Center.” I also wonder if there might be anything incriminating in here, leverage to use against my father. Or maybe something that would be useful to the Underground. I scan each page as quickly as I can.

“Come on!” Lark says anxiously, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

But it’s too late. I hear the doorknob turn, my father’s heavy tread, stumbling.

I reach under my shirt and touch the gun pressed against my navel.

“No,” I say, very softly, reminding myself that I’m a good person. Better than my father, at any rate.

If he doesn’t come in here, if he goes straight to bed, we can slip out the front door.

He’s talking. Did he bring someone home with him? I step closer to the closed over (but not completely closed) door and listen.

“It’s not my fault.” His voice is wheedling, pathetic. I’ve never heard him sound like that before. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

I wait, but there’s no answer. He’s alone, talking to himself.

“In here, quick,” I say to Lark as I pull the trick bookcase out on its silent and smooth pneumatic hinges. She steps into the secret alcove behind and I close the door over. Not all the way, though. Once closed, it can only be opened from the outside. If anything should go wrong, I don’t want Lark trapped in there. I creep out. I’m being foolish, I know, but I feel like I need to see my father. I haven’t decided yet if he needs to see me.

“I was supposed to be the good example, the man who puts Eden before family. The incorruptible leader who isn’t tainted by his family’s transgressions.” I hear a meaty thud, and another. When I poke my head carefully around the corner and look into the kitchen I see him striking the sides of his head with his hands.

“Oh, Ash, what have I done? They promised me!”

He slams his head down on the counter, and when he stands, swaying unsteadily, there’s a bloody gash in his forehead.

Good, I think. I’m getting used to blood now.

Another part hurts for him. Whatever else he is, he loved Mom. And Ash, I thought.

I step into the room. “What did they promise you?”

He whirls, and the stench of alcohol hits me hard. For a second he looks overjoyed to see me. He starts toward me, arms starting to open. At the same time I stiffen, and he seems to remember how he has felt about me all my life. He comes to an abrupt halt.

“You’re alive.”

“So are you,” I counter, my voice low and steady. Remarkably steady, given my inner turmoil. “But you shouldn’t be. You gave up Ash to save yourself.”

“N-no,” he stammers, swaying where he stands. “It wasn’t like that. The Center needs stability, or the circles will not hold. That’s what they told me. They said they need an example. I thought they meant me. A good example.”

He babbles on, slurring and incoherent at times, telling me how the chancellor told him removing him from the vice chancellorship would be disastrous at this point. Everyone knew that he’d been tapped to fill the position, and if they changed their minds now, if he was brought down by a terrible scandal, it would make the Center look weak. So they decided to make my father look like the hero of Eden, the self-sacrificing kind of leader who would turn in his own beloved family for the sake of right and law and the preservation of our precious sanctuary.

“They’ve painted your mom as some kind of activist.” He spits the word. “No one knows you’re our daughter. They think your mother was just part of an underground network of people helping second children. Your mom, and Ash. They’re telling everyone I turned her in. They . . .” He falls to his knees, overcome. Maybe begging for my forgiveness? “They’re calling me a hero,” he chokes out between sobs. “A real hero of Eden. A second Aaron Al-Baz.”

How ironic, how fitting, that Dad should be compared to that monster.

“And Ash?” I ask coldly.

“They said they needed an example. Oh, great Earth, I didn’t ask questions! I just signed whatever they put in front of me. I was so afraid. I could be executed for keeping you safe.”

“Instead, your own son is going to be killed, while you assume the second-highest position in Eden. Always protect yourself, right?” Almost as if it has a will of its own, my hand creeps toward my stomach, my fingers twitching at the hem of my shirt. I can feel the irregular bulk of the gun beneath my clothes. Dad can’t see it, though. Not yet.

“It wasn’t supposed to be that way!” he moans, rocking back and forth on his knees. “He was supposed to be kept in prison until everything died down, set free somewhere far from the Center.”

“Oh, so you just wanted to ruin his life, shuffle him away to the outer circles where he could starve?” A step above execution, barely. I shake my head slowly. “You’ve been a rotten father. Even to the child you actually love. You burned a hole in him while he was still in the womb, and now you’re finishing the job of killing him.”