Still nothing.
I call Cami.
She picks up.
“Where is she?”
“She doesn’t want to be found,” she says flatly.
“I need to talk to her.”
“No. Youneededto talk to her before she cried herself to sleep in a ripped dress and walked out into the storm.”
“I didn’tknow—”
“She’s not your experiment anymore.”
Click.
Silence. Again.
I stare at the folder in my hands.
Then I move—fast.
I pull up the penthouse security feed on my office monitor, flicking through hallway cams, and entry logs. Nothing’s changed. No activity. Her room is still sealed. Lights off. Not even Dorian’s badge shows since he dropped her off at the lab.
“Check the apartment footage,” I bark, already dialing. “Find me anything from the last twelve hours. And send the feed from the street cams.”
Maverick watches me like I’ve lost it. “You think she went back there?”
“She didn’t come home.”
I call down to security. “Track Violet Cole’s phone. I want location history, current ping, and her last known contact within five minutes.”
“Sir, I believe the device was powered down—”
I slam my hand on the desk. “Then use the damn cameras! Traffic logs, surveillance grids, and subway timestamps—something!She didn’t just vanish.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Then trace it through transit activity. Traffic cams. Facial recognition. I don’t care what it takes—find her.”
Maverick steps closer, folding his arms. “You think she’s at Cami’s?”
“She has to be,” I mutter. I face him fully. “Go to Cami’s. If she’s there—bring her back.”
Maverick stiffens. “You want me to drag her here like some prisoner?”
“I want you to tell her I didn’t know. That I’m going to make it right.”
“She doesn’t want to see you, Ash.”
“Then you make her want to,” I snap. “Because I’m not letting her walk away thinking I used her.” I slam the phone down and grab my coat.
Maverick blocks the doorway. “Where are you going?”
I shove past him. “I’m going to fix this,” I say instead.
“How?”
“I’m going to burn every trace of it.”
