“Then how did they know?” I fire back.
“Know what?”
“That the range reacts,” I hiss under my breath.
The nearest agent steps forward. “Ms. Calloway, we’re securing all digital and physical materials related to your uploads.”
“My uploads?” I repeat.
“The astronomical alignment data.”
Ash’s eyes flick to mine. Sharp.
“They flagged it as anomalous,” the agent continues.
“Anomalous how?” I whisper.
“Classified.”
The word lands like a verdict.
Ash moves closer. Too close.
I step back automatically. Distance. I need distance.
“He had nothing to do with this,” the agent says impatiently. “We’re here because your data triggered external notification.”
External?
Ash goes still.
External.
My anger fractures. External means not local.
Not council. Not Ash.
Then who?
The cowboy grabs my upper arm, and heat flares. He pulls me to the side, whispering against my ear, “Calm down. Let this go.”
I try to pull away, anger flaring. “Then, you’ll have what you want? Me, no longer doing research?—”
His voice is a dark warning. “Control yourself.” The two words hit me like a vibration, like something I can’t choose.
The agents load the last box into the SUV.
My knees wobble.
I didn’t mean to expose him or Mags. Hell, I don’t know exactly what I exposed yet. But I do know it’s something I can’t measure or archive away.
The world tilts. My vision narrows. I’m suddenly so tired. So tired of explanations.
The ground rushes up too fast.
“Not again.” Strong arms catch me before it does.
The hum explodes through my body. Not violent. Stabilizing.
