Becky
Micah had a routine follow-up scan scheduled for that afternoon, the kind of appointment we'd been through dozens of times now, routine enough that I almost didn't think twice about the drive over. Ryder drove us himself instead of the usual security car, tense in a way I couldn't quite place, checking the mirrors more often than usual, his jaw tight the whole way there.
"Everything okay?" I asked quietly, once Micah had put his headphones on in the back seat, absorbed in some cartoon on his tablet.
"Found something last night," Ryder said, eyes still flicking to the mirror. "Something bigger than the surveillance stuff. Adrian's handling it with the lawyers this morning. I'll fill you in properly once we're back."
I wanted to press further, but something in his tone told me it w
