The elevator doors closed, sealing me inside the small metal box with my half-brother. And I was almost certain of one thing: he didn't know that I knew who he was.
"Abram." He didn't look at me. Just leaned back against the wall like a man who had all the time in the world and knew it. "I hope you were expecting me."
"Yeah." I kept my eyes on the numbers climbing down above the doors. "You said you'd visit. So I got ready." I didn't look at him either. Two men sharing a box, both refusing to be the first to turn.
I didn't know whether I was safe or in real trouble standing this close to him. The system had handed me the name in the corridor and I'd been carrying it ever since. Brahim Nadez. My father's son, born inside the Vale family, dead once already and back now in a body that wasn't his. Everything I knew about him fit in three sentences, and every one of those sentences told me to be afraid.
