Please look under my coat before she sees you!
Rachel and I spent the next few days in a borrowed, nondescript sedan, driving slowly past Evelyn’s campaign headquarters, cross-referencing my scanner data with her server logs. The information was overwhelming, but clear: Apex Titan was Evelyn’s shadow network.
The problem remained Maya. I couldn’t reach her, couldn’t remove the collar.
The restraining order meant any attempt to enter the headquarters, or even get close, would land me in jail.
“Maya attends the Oakhaven Preparatory Academy,” I told Rachel, pointing to a sprawling campus on the edge of town. “Evelyn sends her there. High walls, private security, but recess… there’s an open field.”
It was a long shot, a desperate gamble.
The next day, under the guise of “prospective parent touring the grounds,” Rachel distracted the front gate security while I slipped around the perimeter. I timed it carefully, waiting for the recess bell.
Children poured onto the manicured lawn. I scanned the faces, my heart thumping.
There she was. Maya, still wearing that heavy parka, even in the Texas sun. She sat alone under a large oak tree, drawing in the dirt with a stick, apart from the other children who chased each other with bright, innocent energy.
My chest ached. She looked smaller, more withdrawn than before.
I moved quietly, using the cover of a hedgerow, until I was close enough that I could almost hear the distant chatter of the other kids. I had my specialized metal cutters, bought online with the last few dollars I could access before my accounts were frozen.
“Maya,” I whispered, barely audible.
Her head snapped up. Her eyes, wide and surprised, met mine. She scrambled to her feet, dropping her stick.
“Luc!” she whispered back, a flicker of joy crossing her face before fear took over. She glanced nervously toward the distant security guards.
I quickly knelt. “I’m going to get that thing off you, okay? Just hold still.”
I reached for her neck, my fingers brushing the cold, hard titanium collar. It was thicker than I remembered, nestled deep beneath the parka’s fur trim.
My heart sank. The metal wasn’t uniform. There was a tiny, almost invisible seam, no more than a hair’s width, running along the hinge. And embedded within that seam, a minuscule, dark red dot.
It was a thermal sensor. And a battery indicator.
“What is it?” Maya whispered, her voice trembling.
I examined it closer. The schematics I’d found online for Apex Titan’s “tactical restraints” suddenly made sense. This wasn’t just a lock. It was a failsafe.
Any attempt at a mechanical breach – cutting, prying – would be detected. The embedded thermal battery, designed to power the collar’s internal systems for weeks, would then be instructed to discharge its energy in a concentrated burst.
“It’s… it’s really tight, isn’t it?” I asked, stalling, my mind racing.
Maya nodded, her eyes welling up. “It gets hot sometimes. And if I try to take it off, Mommy gets mad. She says it’s for my health.”
Hot. That was it. Any attempt to cut the collar would trigger an instant, localized heat dump directly onto her skin. Catastrophic burns. A cruel, inescapable trap.
I pulled my hand back, defeated. The cutters felt heavy, useless.
“I can’t cut it, Maya,” I said, the words bitter on my tongue. “Not like this.”
Her lower lip trembled. “You won’t leave me, will you?”
“Never,” I promised, looking into her terrified eyes. “I just need a different way. A smarter way.”
The distant whistle blew, signaling the end of recess. Maya flinched.
“You have to go,” she whispered, tears finally escaping and running down her cheeks. “She’ll see you.”
I gave her a quick, tight hug, careful not to jostle the collar. “I’ll be back,” I swore, my voice hoarse.
As she ran back toward the school building, a tiny, eight-year-old figure swallowed by the heavy parka, I realized Evelyn hadn’t just created a cage. She’d created a bomb.
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