Page 156 of Pack Frenzy
Cassian leans forward, eyes narrowing. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning someone smuggled her on.”
He pauses the footage on a blur of motion—Blake turning, the woman’s wrist catching light. Something silver flashes before the feed cuts out.
“Back it up.” I point to the screen.
Eli does, freezing the exact frame. “Could be a bracelet or watch.”
“Might be a lead.” I rub the back of my neck, the lack of sleep catching up to me.
“Whoever scrubbed this,” Eli says, low, “knew what they were doing. The deletion pattern isn’t random—it’s surgical. Someone went through frame by frame and wiped her from every visible angle. But they missed her jewelry because they were concentrating so much on making sure no one saw her face.”
My stomach knots. “You think Blake did it?”
“Doubtful. His digital literacy probably ends at Instagram.”
“His dad, then.”
“Or a private cleaner. Someone with access to the feed.” Eli sits back, shaking his head. “I’ve seen data wipes like this before. They cost a fortune.”
Cassian’s gaze slides to me. “He’s hiding her.”
“Looks that way.” My throat feels tight. “Question is, why?”
The cursor blinks in the middle of the paused frame, the woman’s outline caught between pixels and shadow.
Eli exhales. “I’ll keep digging. There’s a chance her metadata’s still buried in the backup—ID tags, maybe even a facial match if I can rebuild the checksum.”
“Do it,” I say flatly.
Eli nods, already typing. His eyes narrow, focus sharp. “If she’s still out there, I’ll find her.”
I hope he’s right. Because if she isn’t, that means Blake didn’t just hide her. He erased her.
By the time sunlight starts leaking through the blinds, the kitchen smells like sugar and exhaustion.
Eli’s at the table, laptop open, fingers flying. Cassian’s on his second screen, cycling through missing-person reports. I’m checking the oven, where a pan of premade cinnamon rolls finishes crisping after a quick nuke job in the microwave—fast, easy, enough to pass for breakfast.
Footsteps pad across the hall, soft but certain.
Jess rounds the corner and blinks. “Dang. I thought Eli would consider frozen cinnamon rolls a cardinal sin.”
“Don’t have time to cook right now.” I wrap up the remaining half package and put it back in the freezer.
She leans on the counter, eyes narrowing in mock disbelief. “How are those even in the house?”
“Emergency stash,” I tell her, setting the timer. “Whenever Eli’s sick or working a double at Nexus, we have to fend for ourselves somehow.”
Cassian smirks without looking up. “Rowan’s survival instincts kick in. Sugar and caffeine.”
Eli hums, not even glancing away from his code. “I’m right here, you know.”
Jess smiles faintly, moving to the cupboard for mugs. “Then I’ll make the coffee before he gets offended by the baking methods.”
“Appreciate it,” I say, because I do — even if my stomach’s already knotted tight about Blake.
She pours, the sound of coffee filling the room. For a second, it almost feels normal. Then Cassian exhales through his nose, rough and low.
