Cesario looks at me.
Knows exactly who I mean.
“Becca,” I say, sharper now. “Where the fuck is she?”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
My chest tightens.
“No,” I say immediately, shaking my head. “No, don’t do that—don’t give me that look. Where is she?”
Cesario exhales slowly.
“We didn’t recover her at the scene.”
Everything in me goes still.
“…what?”
“She’s not accounted for,” he says. “She was there before the breach. After—she’s gone.”
Gone.
Gone?
“No,” I snap, shaking my head harder now. “No, that’s not possible. She was secured—she was supposed to be—”
“She wasn’t moved yet,” he cuts in. “Not before the breach hit.”
Whichmeans—
Someone took her.
My stomach twists violently.
“Who?” I demand. “Who the fuck has her?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Not good enough.
Not even close.
“That was my call,” I snap, anger surging back stronger, sharper. “She was mine. That was my play—my leverage—”
“And now she’s gone,” Cesario says, blunt.
That sets me off.
“Don’t youfucking say it like that,” I snap, stepping toward him. “Fix it.”
“We’re trying—”
“No,” I cut in. “You’re going to do more than try. You’re going to find out who took her and where the fuck they went.”
Because if she’s out there—
