Chapter 4 - The Deadman's SwitchBefore I could lunge across the aisle toward my brother, the four armed bodyguards flanking Thomas drew sleek, matte-black submachine guns from beneath their coats, leveling them squarely at the crowd.
Panic exploded into a full-scale riot. Screams echoed through the auditorium as thousands of students, parents, and professors dove behind rows of wooden seats, scrambling for the exits in blind terror.
"Sit down, Caleb!" Thomas barked, raising the silver remote control so everyone could see the pulsing red LED light blinking on its surface. "One move, one cop called, one hero trying to be brave, and the encrypted packet containing the coordinates of every federal witness protection safehouse in the Northeast goes live to every cartel syndicate and dark-web broker from here to Moscow."
My heart stopped. I froze mid-stride, one foot planted on the row ahead of me.
"What do you want, Thomas?" I growled, my voice shaking with a rage so hot it felt like liquid fire burning through my veins. "You want me? Take me. Let the girls go."
Thomas chuckled, shaking his head slowly. "Oh, little brother, you still don't understand how this game works. I don't want you. And I don't want them dead—not yet, anyway. I want what's in their possession."
He pointed a finger directly at Mia.
"The digital flash drive Jonah hid inside the binding of the baby book you gave them on their tenth birthday," Thomas said, his eyes gleaming with greedy anticipation. "The drive containing the complete ledger of every account, every bribe, and every shell corporation I used to build my empire over the last thirty years. Hand it over, and maybe—just maybe—I'll let you all walk out of here alive."
Up on the stage, Mia’s hand slid slowly behind her back, her fingers brushing against the pocket of her graduation gown.
I saw the movement. Thomas’s lead bodyguard saw it too.
"Don't move!" the guard roared, stepping forward and leveling his weapon directly at Mia's chest.
"Wait!" Chloe screamed, stepping in front of her sister, shielding her with her own body. "Don't shoot her! I have it! The drive is right here!"
Chloe reached into her gown and pulled out a small, black titanium USB drive, holding it up high between her thumb and forefinger under the blinding glare of the stage spotlights.
"Smart girl," Thomas smiled, lowering the remote just a fraction of an inch. "Bring it down here, Chloe. Hand it to your dear old uncle, and we can all pretend this lovely family reunion never happened."
Chloe stepped forward toward the edge of the stage, her legs trembling visibly beneath her black gown. She looked down at me, her eyes wide with fear, silently asking for permission, asking what to do.
I locked eyes with her. I gave her the tiniest, almost imperceptible nod—not because I intended to surrender, but because I had spent twenty-two years learning every single tell my daughters had.
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Chloe wasn't surrendering.
She was setting a trap.
