I glanced at Daisy as she moved with calm efficiency, securing the suite like a trained operative. Her movements were precise and purposeful—no wasted energy, every step calculated.
She's working like a professional soldier, I thought. It made sense; anyone trusted as a driver at the White House level would have to be prepared for anything, constantly ready to shift from chauffeur to protector in the blink of an eye.
Daisy pulled out her phone and tried making a call, her brow furrowed in concentration. After a few failed attempts, she turned to me, her expression serious.
"They're using a network jammer. There's no signal at all—no calls, no internet. We're completely cut off from the team. We're on our own for now."
I nodded grimly. Daisy reached under her jacket and drew a compact handgun, checking the magazine with practiced hands.
