Rafe didn't waste breath arguing.
He was already moving, already issuing commands into his comm, already pulling systems online. Security feeds. Public cameras. Private networks. Satellite overlays. Transport logs. Street-level heat mapping.
Cassian remained where he was.
He stood with his hands at his sides, breathing slow and measured, while his mind moved with far greater speed than anything Rafe was pulling online.
He replayed the morning in brutal detail.
The entrance. Her posture. The way she had avoided his eyes for half a second too long.
The calm in her voice that hadn't quite been calm.
Every word. Every pause. Every look he had dismissed because he had assumed control would compensate for distance.
He had left her.
Not because he didn't care. But because he had needed space to contain what he felt.
And she had taken that space as permission to disappear.
That was the mistake.
Because Cassian Calder did not lose things.
He did not misplace people.
And he did not allow what mattered to vanish quietly.
—
The shift was immediate.
Everyone moved with ruthless efficiency, driven less by protocol than by the instinctive understanding that this was not a moment to hesitate—or to ask questions.
Commands were carried out the second they were given. Screens updated. Lines connected. No one wanted to be the delay that pushed Cassian Calder from control into something far worse.
It didn't take long.
The room was already running at full capacity when one of the analysts straightened in his chair, eyes locked on the cascade of data scrolling across his monitors.
"She left town," he reported.
Cassian did not look away from the main screen. He stood with his hands loosely clasped behind his back, gaze fixed on the city grid expanding in layered overlays before him.
"How?" he asked.
"A taxi," the analyst replied, fingers flying across keys. "Cash payment. No digital booking. No app trace. No registered pickup under her name."
Cassian's jaw flexed once.
"But?" he prompted.
"But we traced the vehicle," the analyst finished. "Traffic cam caught it two blocks east of the hospital. License plate partially obscured, but we enhanced."
The footage rolled forward.
Grainy street-level cameras. Flickering timestamps stacking one after another. A yellow car idling at the hospital perimeter, partially shielded by a delivery truck.
"There," Rafe said, stepping closer. "Pause it."
The frame froze.
The driver's silhouette was visible through the windshield. A figure entering the back seat. Head lowered. Hair falling forward.
Cassian didn't blink.
"That's the one," Rafe confirmed. "Plates match. Registered to a licensed operator. Local."
"Track it," Cassian said.
Within minutes, another analyst leaned back in his chair. "Vehicle located. Off rotation. We've flagged the dispatch hub."
Cassian turned from the screens at last.
The room stilled.
"Bring him," he said.
--
The driver was escorted in less than fifteen minutes later.
He was mid-forties, sweat gathering at his temples despite the controlled temperature of the room. His hands trembled visibly as he clutched his cap, eyes darting between the men surrounding him.
"I—I didn't know," he began immediately. "I didn't know who she was."
Cassian said nothing.
He stood near the window, hands clasped loosely behind his back, posture composed, gaze fixed on the city below as if this were routine. But the stillness around him carried weight.
Rafe stepped forward instead. "Start from the beginning."
The driver swallowed.
"She flagged me down near the hospital. Not the main entrance. Side street. I almost didn't see her." He wiped his palm against his jeans. "She didn't use the taxi stand."
Cassian's head tilted slightly.
"She was alone?" Rafe asked.
"Yes, sir. Completely alone."
"She look like someone was following her?"
"No. No, sir." The driver hesitated. "But she looked like she didn't want to be seen."
The room went quieter.
"Explain," Rafe said.
The driver searched for the right words.
"She kept her head down. Didn't look back at the hospital. Didn't look at anyone. Just opened the door and got in."
"What did she say?" he asked.
The driver visibly stiffened at the sound of his voice.
"She gave me an address at first," he said quickly. "Then halfway there, she changed it. Told me to keep driving south."
"Why?" Rafe asked.
"She didn't say. Just… changed her mind."
Cassian stepped closer.
The shift in proximity altered the air pressure in the room.
"Describe her," Cassian said.
The driver blinked. "Sir?"
"Describe her."
"She looked… exhausted," he said slowly. "Pale. Like she hadn't slept. I asked if she was okay. She said yes. I asked if she needed help carrying anything. She shook her head."
"Scared?" Rafe pressed.
The driver hesitated.
"Not scared exactly," he said. "Just… like she didn't want to be there anymore."
Cassian stepped closer.
The driver straightened instinctively, throat bobbing.
"Where did you take her?" Cassian asked.
The driver hesitated, panic flashing across his face. "I—I dropped her off, I swear. I just—there were a lot of turns."
His eyes darted, searching his own memory like it might betray him. His hands tightened in his lap. His breathing grew shallow.
Then something clicked.
His head snapped up.
"I remember," he said suddenly, urgency cutting through his fear. "I remember the place."
Rafe stepped closer. "Where?"
The driver nodded rapidly, as if afraid they might vanish if he didn't move fast enough. "I can take you there. I swear I can. I remember the sign, the road, the way she got out. I remember."
"Good," Cassian replied.
He turned toward the door.
"Lead the way," he added.