I sit in the back of the vehicle, hands free in my lap, posture straight, eyes forward.
Observed.
Always observed.
The cameras are everywhere.
Mounted on the dash.
Outside the vehicle.
Media vans pacing the convoy like sharks.
Someone tipped them off.
Not the enemy.
Not directly.
This is cleaner than that.
This is internal.
Someone inside the system opened the door—and let the world watch it happen.
I turn my head slightly, looking out the window.
Flashes of light.
Reflections.
Buildings passing too quickly to study—but I try anyway.
I catalog everything.
Route.
Timing.
Escorts.
Vehicles.
Because control isn’t gone.
It’s just shifted.
Aaron is in another car.
I felt the moment they separated us.
Didn’t argue.
Didn’t fight.
He knew.
Same as me.
