Cassian had not been able to settle since leaving her at the hospital entrance.
The sensation clung to him like a second skin—unwelcome, insistent. It followed him into the car, rode in silence beside him through the city streets, and tightened with every passing mile.
By the time the glass-and-steel spire of company headquarters rose into view, the feeling had hardened into something dense and uncomfortable, lodged beneath his ribs like an unresolved calculation he could not stop running.
Every possible outcome replayed in his mind. Every variable circled back to the same point. Her.
He went about his work as usual.
Meetings were attended. Documents were reviewed and signed. Calls were answered, instructions delivered with the same sharp efficiency that had built empires and dismantled rivals.
To anyone listening closely, his voice was steady, controlled, perfectly measured. But control did not erase the storm—it merely contained it.
The tension sat visibly in the set of his jaw, in the way his fingers drummed once against the table before stilling, in the fraction of a second too long he spent staring at nothing between tasks.
The office shifted the moment he arrived.
Conversations lowered as if an invisible hand had turned down the volume. Footsteps softened along the marble floors, heels and shoes suddenly careful not to echo.
Assistants moved faster, clipped and precise, eyes fixed on tablets and schedules, choosing their words as if each one might be weighed and found wanting.
No one lingered. No one joked.
Even Rafe—who had stood beside Cassian through boardroom wars and hostile takeovers—treaded carefully.
He watched him from the corner of his eye, noted the silence where there was usually commentary, the way Cassian's focus seemed razor-sharp yet elsewhere all at once.
Rafe knew that look.
No one asked unnecessary questions. No one lingered.
People who had worked under him for years learned to recognize the signs, and today every one of them knew better than to test his patience.
It was not fear exactly—Cassian did not rule through temper—but the awareness that he was operating with less tolerance than usual, and that mistakes made today would not be forgiven.
He completed two meetings without interruption, signed off on contracts that would have required discussion on any other day, and dismissed an entire department with a single glance when they tried to explain something he already knew.
By early afternoon, he stopped pretending he could ignore it.
"Where's Alexis?" he asked.
He didn't look up from the screen in front of him. Rows of data glowed beneath his gaze—projections, figures, acquisition timelines—but he wasn't seeing any of it.
His voice was even, almost casual, but Rafe recognized the tone instantly.
Neutral, in Cassian Calder's world, meant danger.
Rafe paused.
It was only a fraction of a second, but it was enough.
"He hasn't reported yet," he said carefully.
Cassian's hand, which had been resting against the edge of his desk, went completely still.
That alone was enough to register as a problem.
"He was assigned to her," Cassian said at last. His voice remained calm, but something colder threaded through it now. "That should have been the first update."
Rafe frowned slightly, already reaching for his phone. "I'll check."
Cassian didn't wait.
The chair slid back with a controlled, deliberate sound as he rose. He crossed the office in long, precise strides, the kind that never hurried yet always arrived faster than expected.
Each step carried weight. Purpose. The kind of intent that made people instinctively move out of his way.
He was already dialing.
Rafe followed a step behind, eyes flicking between Cassian's rigid shoulders and the phone in his own hand. The tension in the room tightened further, as if the air itself had sensed the shift.
The call connected.
Alexis answered immediately.
"Yes, sir."
Cassian did not waste words. "Report."
On the other end of the line, there was a brief hesitation. It was subtle, almost imperceptible—but Cassian caught it immediately. He always did.
"I was instructed to wait at the main entrance," Alexis said.
"The lady insisted she wanted privacy during the check-up. She was calm. Polite. I remained where I was told."
Cassian stopped walking.
"That was not the instruction," he said quietly.
"No, sir," Alexis replied. "But she was firm."
Cassian closed his eyes for the briefest fraction of a second, then opened them again. When he did, the warmth that sometimes lingered there had receded entirely.
"And now?" he asked.
"I am still at the entrance," Alexis said. "I have not seen her exit."
Silence stretched.
Then Cassian spoke again, his voice unchanged, which was far worse than anger.
"How long have you been standing there?"
There was another pause. "Several hours, sir."
Several.
Hours.
Cassian ended the call without another word.
The screen went dark.
The office seemed to exhale all at once.
Rafe had already gone pale.
"She slipped him," Rafe said quietly, understanding dawning too late. "She must have exited through another wing."
Cassian turned back toward his desk, already reaching for his phone again, his movements precise, controlled, his mind narrowing with lethal focus.
"Get me the doctor," he said. "Direct line."
Rafe didn't ask which one. He already knew. His fingers moved quickly, efficiently, pulling up the secure contact and handing the phone over within seconds.
Cassian waited only long enough for the call to connect.
"This is Cassian Calder," he said. "I need confirmation."
The doctor's voice came through—professional, measured, unaware of the weight pressing against the line. "Yes, Mr. Calder?"
"The patient brought in this morning," Cassian said. "The examination status."
There was a pause as records were checked.
"The full inspection was completed," the doctor replied. "She was cleared to leave."
"When?" Cassian asked.
Another pause.
"Several hours ago."
Cassian did not respond.
Rafe's breath caught.
"Did she request transportation?" he asked.
"No," the doctor replied. "She left on her own."
Cassian lowered the phone slowly.
Hours.
She had been gone for hours.
And Alexis had still been standing at the entrance, waiting.
Not knowing.
His jaw tightened slowly, the muscle working once as the implications aligned with brutal clarity—not fear-driven, not emotional, but tactical and absolute.
Rafe had gone very still.
Cassian turned back to Rafe, his eyes sharp, calculating, already several steps ahead.
"Cass—"
"Find her."
"Now."