I checked the perimeter sensors, confirming they were active and linked to my phone. If anyone approached Evelyn’s house tonight from any direction, I’d know about it. I’d be there before they reached the door.
Setting up the rest of the equipment took less than ten minutes. Solar chargers. Backup batteries. Remote triggers. The routine was familiar, calming. This I understood—the technical aspects of protection, the physics of keeping someone safe from a distance.
What I didn’t understand was why my chest felt hollow when I thought about leaving again once the threat was neutralized.
Through the thermal imager, Evelyn moved through the house, checking windows and doors—her own security routine. I watched as she finally settled in the kitchen with a cup of coffee or tea, a solitary orange glow against the blue-green backdrop of the structure.
I’d give anything to know what went through her mind during these quiet moments. If she ever thought about me. If she hated me for dropping them here and disappearing.
If she’d understand why I’d stayed away.
In the quiet darkness of the rimrocks, I settled in for a long night of watching. Of protecting from a distance. It was what I was good at. What I was trained for.
But for the first time in my career, it didn’t feel like enough.
Evelyn’s heatsignature finally settled in her bedroom at 0217. She’d spent the last hour pacing, checking windows, peering out into the darkness as if she sensed someone watching. Smart woman. Always vigilant. I wondered if she ever really slept, or if she just rested with one eye open, like me.
Time to check in with the team.
I pulled the compact satellite uplink from my duffel, extending its small dish antenna and orienting it toward the southern sky. The tech was Kate’s latest design—portable, secure, and virtually undetectable. A far cry from the bulky comms equipment I’d used in my early military days.
The connection was established with three soft beeps, and I slipped in my encrypted earpiece. “Dalton checking in.”
A moment of static, then Ethan’s voice filled my ear. “Good to hear from you, Bricks. Status?”
“In position. Sight lines established. Targets secure.” I kept my voice low, though there was no one around to hear me for miles. Old habits.
“Any signs of hostile activity?” Ethan asked. I could hear keyboards clicking in the background, the familiar sounds of Edge Ops headquarters at night.
“Nothing yet. Town appears normal.” I adjusted my position against the rock shelf, easing pressure on my lower back. “The motel owner was asking a lot of questions, but I think that’s more out of boredom and a desire for gossip than malicious intent.”
More typing, then Ethan said, “Bringing in the tech team. They’ve got updates on NeuroLink.”
The line clicked, and Kate’s voice came through, crisp and direct. “Hey, Bricks. Ozzy and I have been researching the tech since you left. You’re not going to like what we found.”
“When do I ever?” I watched as the lights in Evelyn’s house finally went dark.
“It’s a two-part system,” Kate continued. “Neither component works without the other, which means it takes time to implement. So point for us. Maybe we’re earlier enough to stop whatever the buyer has planned.”
We thought we were early enough to stop Tectra-X, too. But I didn’t point that out.
Ozzy’s voice cut in, his British accent clipped and exact. “First part: receptor-priming compounds introduced through water supply or food. Colorless, odorless, builds up in the neural tissue. Second part: electromagnetic signals broadcast through modified cell towers. Together, they create a neural network override.”
I processed this, connecting the dots. “If they were going to test on the town, they’d need access to the water treatment facility.”
“Exactly,” Kate confirmed. “They need to seed the compounds first, then activate with the signal. Without both, nothing happens.”
“Timeline?” I asked, my eyes never leaving Evelyn’s house.
“Compound needs five to seven days to reach useful levels in brain tissue,” Ozzy explained. “After that, the EM signal can trigger immediate effects.”
Kate jumped back in. “We’ve mapped the progression. It starts small—people using the same phrases repeatedly, moving in sync without realizing it, eyes slightly unfocused. Then it escalates to collective behavior modification. Following commands, acting against their normal patterns.”
“Complete behavioral control is the end goal,” Ozzy added. “A town full of people who’ll do exactly what they’re told, with no memory of it afterward.”
My jaw clenched. I thought of Evelyn, of Sophia. Of a town where everyone became puppets. The idea hit too close to what Evelyn had already survived at Hope’s Embrace—the slow, insidious control, the loss of autonomy.
“Any way to detect the compound?” I asked.
