They’d traveled far enough through the tunnels to reach the room below the ice rink where Peter lived. He moved quietly around the space. He lit a candle, then turned around so Tessa could see his face in the flickering glow. Stringy strands of pale hair hung from his scalp where it hadn’t burned. He had no eyebrows; those had been singed off in the fire, never to grow back. He wore gray sweatpants and a dark hoodie with a Whitney eagle on the front. The long sleeves hid the scars on his arms. The skin there was thick and ropy, rough like his hands.

In the beginning, it had shocked her, seeing what he’d become—after he’d been in hiding and she’d been in foster care. But it didn’t take long for Tessa to embrace her brother again. Now she barely noticed what was different about him. She owed him too much. He had done everything he could to keep her safe.

It was her turn to do the same for him.

Tessa sat on a wooden stool, and Peter came over and crouched at her feet. His body seemed to vibrate even as he went still. He was like an animal, quick and wiry, ready to leap, and far stronger than he appeared.

“I told them what happened that night,” she said, “that the girl wasn’t breathing, that someone called me from her cell. I told them everything except that it was you on the other end.” Tessa squeezed her eyes closed, trying to forget the look on Katie’s face when Tessa had accused Mark, trying to forget what Katie had said after.

You’re messed up, messed up, messed up.

When all Tessa was doing was trying to spare her brother more pain.

“They took my phone and told me not to leave the dorm until the police checked out everything. But they couldn’t stop me from coming here.” She reached over to pat the top of his head. “Thank you,” she said, “for getting the girl’s phone into Mark Summers’s locker. They’ll have to arrest him now.”

Peter grunted, but there was no expression on his face. It was as blank as ever, his blue eyes hard, hiding any pain he’d ever felt before he’d learned not to feel much of anything at all.

He’s too damaged and we can’t fix him.… I’m afraid to be alone with him.… He’s a danger to us all.

She’d overheard their parents saying that Peter was impossible to love. They hadn’t wanted him anymore. They’d packed his things and planned to buy him a one-way plane ticket to Moscow. But when they sat him down and told him their intentions, Peter howled. He didn’t want to go. He would never in a million years have gone and left Tessa alone.

We have to send him back; we have no choice.

Peter had decided the very same thing when he’d set the fire: he had no choice.

He didn’t realize Tessa would be home. She was supposed to be sleeping over at a friend’s house, only the other girl had gotten chicken pox. But when he’d heard his sister screaming, he’d gone inside, even though he’d risked his life to do so.

“You didn’t kill Rose,” Tessa remarked, and Peter leaned his cheek against her palm. “You just found her, and you dug her a grave in the woods so she could rest in peace. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and all that.”

Peter made a noise in his throat very much like a cat’s purr.

He’d stumbled upon Rose in the old machine room of the headmaster’s house. Before he’d taken her lifeless body into the tunnels, he’d used her phone to call Tessa. He thought the dead girl was Katie at first, and he’d been distraught. Tessa had slipped out of Amelia House and found him in the room where he lived. He’d been curled beside the body, making whimpering noises. But Tessa had shown him it wasn’t Katie. The girl had a tat. Then Tessa had taken off, wanting to get back to her room before Katie awakened. How was she to know that once she left Peter alone he’d find the bloodred rose on the back of the hand too beautiful to discard? That he would saw the dead girl’s hand off and wrap it up like a gift before he took the body to the woods and buried it? Tessa had no idea what was in the package when she’d found it in his room the next morning, before she’d taken off for the trip to the morgue. That was before he’d scrawled Katie’s name on the front, tied it with twine, and left it sitting in the rain, on the back steps of the dorm. How could Tessa have imagined he’d put something like that inside, the same way he’d boxed up Mrs. Cottingham’s cat and left it on the old lady’s porch?

Tessa loved her brother deeply, but she knew he wasn’t right.

He never had been.

How could anyone survive undamaged after years in an orphanage without love, without touch, with barely enough food to keep going? His only attachment had been to Tessa. His only loyalty was to his sister. But these past few months, he’d become attached to Katie, too.

When Katie had started dating Mark, Tessa had asked Peter to keep an eye on them. Tessa was afraid that Mark was using her friend, that he was toying with Katie’s fragile heart after his breakup with Joelle. And Peter had done it. He had looked after Katie almost too well, to the brink of obsession. Tessa had always known he roamed the tunnels at night. That was how he got everything he needed to live: food and drink from the dorm kitchens or the cafeteria, clothes from locker rooms or lost and founds. But he’d never gone beyond the first floor, and only when it was empty. Until he’d started sneaking upstairs in Amelia House to watch Katie sleep, to bring her a rose from the greenhouse, slipping away before she woke up.

Tessa had caught him at it once, and after that she could hardly sleep for worrying that he’d show up again and leave a rose by Katie’s bed. It was a blessing in disguise that Katie’s subconscious interpreted those nighttime visits as bad dreams.

Then Peter had started to really get out of control, leaving Katie a rose in the library, lingering in their room so that Tessa had to chase him out … and Katie had followed her into the tunnels. Katie had dared to ask if it was Tessa haunting her.

“I don’t think Katie trusts me anymore,” she told her brother, and he got up from the floor. He began to pace the dimly lit room, his head cocked, his gaze looking above them. “It may be time she learned the whole truth. I have to tell her our secret.”

Tessa slipped off the stool as Peter stood quite still, like he heard something she couldn’t hear. The way dogs could detect a high-pitched whistle.

“What is it?” she asked.

And then he took off running, leaving Tessa alone in his dungeon-like room, wondering if she’d imagined the faint sound of a scream above her.