Men in dark suits stepped out. One after another after another. They moved with the coordinated silence of soldiers who had done this a thousand times. Broad shoulders, hands at their sides, eyes scanning the courtyard with the flat, professional attention of men who were paid to notice everything and react to nothing until told.
The laughter died.
The courtyard went still.
And every parent who had been holding me down slowly, very slowly, let go.
The sudden commotion caught everyone's attention.
The noisy crowd fell into an eerie silence.
The parents who had been holding me down immediately let go, straightened up, and turned their eyes toward the academy gates. Every head in the courtyard swiveled as if pulled by the same invisible wire.
Luna withdrew her foot from where it had been pressing against my side, her gaze fixed on the convoy of black armored sedans rolling through the wrought-iron gates in a slow, deliberate procession. Three cars. Tinted windows. The kind of vehicles that didn't belong to civilians.
I quickly stood up and helped my daughter off the ground. Emilia's fingers found the hem of my sleeve and curled into the fabric, holding on without a sound.