From the top of the lot, we have a clear view of the school entrance. The bell hasn’t rung yet, but kids are already gathering out front. Some wait on rides, others hang around like they don’t want to go home. It is all backpacks, skateboards, Bluetooth speakers, loud voices, the usual teenage noise.
Naomi takes a long breath, then flips down the visor mirror and reapplies her lipstick. She tightens her hoodie, brushes her hair to one side, and gives a small half-smile.
“Ready?” Brooke asks her softly.
Naomi shrugs. “As I’ll ever be.”
Brooke hands her the mic tucked under her collar and shows her the hidden signal trigger disguised as a playlist remote. One tap to speak to us. Two taps to abort. Naomi opens the door.
She walks straight into the chaos like it is just another brand deal. Confident. Camera-ready. The crowd notices her almost immediately. A couple of girls point first. Then recognition spreads through the front of the school.
“Oh my God, Naomi Mills?”
“That’s her. That’s Naomi!”
Within seconds, she is swarmed. Teens shout her name with their phones raised high. A few push in for selfies. Some are already live-streaming. She smiles, poses, says a few words, and waves to a group hanging by the steps.
I hate how easy it is. I don’t remember being this impressed by anyone when I was a kid. But it works.
Then I see them.
Two kids stand off to the side of the crowd. They aren't part of the chaos. They just watch.
Elise stands stiff, her arms crossed over her chest. Her curly hair hits her shoulders. She's tall for her age, and has piercings along her ear and nose. She looks like our mom just with a harder edge.
Ryan stands a little behind her. His dark hair falls into his eyes. He looks skinny and restless. He doesn’t look like Samantha or me, but his eyes are hers. The same soft brown that used to watch me from the kitchen window while I played in the yard.
My pulse hits hard.
“That’s them,” I say. “Front right. She’s in the red hoodie. He’s next to her.”
Beau leans forward. “I see them.”
Naomi spots them too. She starts moving toward them through the crowd, calling their names low enough that only they can hear.
I turn and scan the street. That's when I see it.
A black van with tinted windows and no plates.
It pulls in from the cross street, idles for a second, then rolls to the curb across from the school. Two men in black step out. Their movements are quick. One checks the street. The other adjusts something under his sweatshirt.
“Company,” Beau says sharply. “Two o’clock. Black van. Armed.”
“Shit,” I mutter.
Brooke is already clicking the comms. “Naomi. We’ve got a situation. Get them now. You need to move.”
Naomi doesn’t hesitate. She turns to Elise and Ryan. “You need to come with me right now,” she says. “You’re not safe.”
They hesitate. Of course they do. They don’t know her. Elise steps back. Ryan looks ready to run.
The two men start crossing the street.
“Naomi,” Brooke snaps. “Move. Now!”
Naomi reaches forward and grabs Elise’s wrist, then Ryan’s.
A gun comes out.
