But the black box had never been found.

The Raptor’s rotors spun up on their own.

He reached for his soldering iron. Not to fix the drone—to kill its transmitter. But the firmware had already finished.

The final line of the update blinked onto his screen:

Leo leaned back. “Fr” wasn’t a typo for “for.” It was a designation. French Republic. Dyon’s military contracts. The Raptor wasn’t his drone. He’d just been borrowing it.