Chapter 41 Ronan
Ronan
Location: Mobile Command — En Route
Time: Late Afternoon
“It’s live,” I say.
Aaron’s voice is immediate. “What’s live?”
“The list.”
I pull up the incident feed.
Real-time.
No delay.
“No,” I correct myself, voice tightening. “Someone just acted on it.”
The screen fills with red alerts.
Location markers blinking across the map.
“Attempted assassination in Brussels,” I say. “Motorcade hit.”
I expand the feed.
Smoke.
Chaos.
Emergency response already on scene.
“Target survived,” I add. “Barely.”
Aaron closes his eyes.
Just once.
That’s all it takes.
“They’re using the fake output,” he says.
“Yes.”
“And they’re doing it badly.”
“Yes.”
Which makes it worse.
Because bad predictions don’t miss quietly.
They miss loudly.
Violently.
“And more are coming,” I continue. “They’re not going to stop at one.”
“Every attempt reinforces the list,” Aaron says.
“Exactly.”
I bring up another layer.
Governments reacting.
Meetings being scheduled.
Emergency powers being discussed.
Fast.
Too fast.
“And there’s more,” I say. “Coordination councils are being convened. Quietly. Across multiple jurisdictions.”
Aaron exhales slowly.
“They’re getting what they want.”
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then:
“A panic window.”
The words sit heavy in the space between us.
Because once that window opens—
It doesn’t close easily.
I hesitate.
Just for a second.
Because what comes next?
He’s not going to like.
“There’s only one person who can stop this,” I say.
Silence.
Then Aaron, already knowing—
“No.”
I don’t argue.
I don’t soften it.
Because there’s no version of this where it isn’t true.
“They need her,” I say quietly. “Publicly. In real time.”
Another silence.
Longer.
Sharper.
More dangerous.
Because this isn’t about strategy anymore.
It’s about her.
And what it will cost.