But when the first feed came into focus, she made a sound that didn’t belong to anger.
“Oh my God…”
It wasn’t rage.
It was horror.
I followed her gaze.
And my stomach dropped.
Her apartment wasn’t empty.
Two men were inside.
Drawers yanked open. Cushions ripped apart. One of them flipped her kitchen chair over like he was searching for something taped underneath it.
“Jesus Christ,” I breathed.
“CAAAAAP!” I bellowed.
He was already moving before I finished shouting, barreling into the room as Jasmine shoved the blankets off herself.
“Hey—!” I grabbed for her as she tried to stand on feet that weren’t ready to hold her weight.
She elbowed me hard enough to make me grunt, desperation fueling strength she didn’t actually have.
“That’s my apartment!” she cried. “That’s my home!”
“I know,” I said, catching her before she pitched forward. “I know.”
Cap swore behind me as we all stared at the screens.
They weren’t searching casually.
They were tearing it apart.
Systematically.
Looking for something specific.
And if they were that confident breaking in while she was gone?—
Then they weren’t worried about her coming back.
Which meant they knew exactly where she was supposed to be tonight.
And that realization hit harder than anything else.
“No! My Playstation!” she exclaimed.
I watched as the men smashed it just because they could.
“Not my clothes. Anything but—please! Stop it! Do these have microphones!?” she asked as she whipped her tear-stained face up to me. “Please tell me we can talk to them and tell them to stop!”
I just looked over at my shoulder at Cap. At the way his jaw worked while we watched the crew in all black tear this woman’s home apart.
She collapsed into a fit of tears and I caught her before drawing her close.
