They mistook my restraint for stupidity. They read my silence as submission.

They didn’t know about the biometric Pelican case under the floorboards of my home study, or the encrypted satellite phone in my unassuming clutch, or the men with silver stars on their collars who called me at 0300 for strategic authorizations, or the two-billion-dollar global logistics network I was overseeing across three hostile continents.

They saw a tired, pregnant housewife.

The performance was exhausting, but I’d learned long ago that watching an enemy’s movements without revealing your own position is the discipline that wins wars.

Daniel’s fatal flaw was his certainty that he was the smartest person in any room.

Chapter 2 — The Shoulder of I-495

The strain was doing biological damage. A dull throb had started at the base of my skull.