CHAPTER 30 —

The alert was a tiny, polite thing on Anders’s screen — a red dot that should have been an annoyance but felt like a grenade. He read it twice, then barked two words that made the room fold in on itself.

“Remote wipe.”

Nicole’s stomach did a small, furious flip — the baby answered with a three-note tap, like a drummer cueing the band. “How fast?” she asked, voice steady because panic sounded like weakness and she needed her hands free for decision.

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