Then she looked at Carter.
“Move away from the booth.”
He didn’t.
“Mason,” she said, voice low, “take Titan and step back.”
But Titan had already begun moving.
Not lunging.
Tracking.
Nose low, body tense.
He passed the simulator.
Passed the table of brochures.
Stopped beneath the Navy display.
Then sat.
My heart pounded.
Chief Ramirez knelt and carefully lifted the tablecloth.
Underneath sat a second black case.
Same size.
Same tag.
But this one had no seal at all.
The gym erupted into frightened whispers.
Carter looked like he might be sick.
“I didn’t put that there,” he said.
My mother’s eyes locked on him.
“Then who did?”
Before he could answer, every phone in the gym buzzed at once.
Not one.
Not a few.
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