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Vandor snorted. “If we knew that, we wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Come on. We’ve scouted the entire planet. Yure and the entire tech team have been searching for them since Bekn escaped from prison. They couldn’t have just disappeared.”

He looked up at the dark sky where the planets glimmered faintly through the rain.

“Bekn was located on the space shuttle that brought Ryneth to Helion.” Crouching down, Vandor started searching the ground.

“Don’t mention that. Those motherfuckers still need to pay for putting him in a cage.”

“Why don’t you think without your dick for once?”

Daven bristled. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or fight the other man. “You’re getting bold, aren’t you?”

Vandor stopped searching the ground and let out a heavy sigh before looking up at him. “I don’t mean to. It’s just—sometimes you Dariux men are difficult to work with.”

“Oh, and why’s that? Because we’ve been toyed with like a bunch of idiots? You don’t drag an Imperial prince and the entire Luminary to your tower for a negotiation, then leave them standing outside in the rain for an hour unless you’re⁠—”

He cut himself off.

Unless you’re what?

“Fuck.” Vandor crouched near the curb and held out a hand. “Give me some light.”

Daven swung the beam of his flashlight toward him and stepped closer, his stomach tightening as something dark gleamed in Vandor’s hand, rain sliding over its curved surface.

“What’s that?”

Vandor turned it slowly in the light. “A mask.”

The shape was unmistakable, smooth black plating and narrow eye slits in the same design the Concordant envoys had worn when they stepped out of their ship.

Daven went still. “Concordant.”

Vandor didn’t answer at once. His thumb caught on the inside edge of the mask and stilled, and for one brief second a thin line of gold flashed along the inner rim before his hand closed over it. Whatever crossed his face vanished just as fast. Then he dropped the mask back to the pavement.

Daven frowned. “What?”

Vandor crouched lower and reached toward the curb instead. “This.” He held up a thin cable that had been cut clean through, rainwater dripping from the severed end. “There’s a cut line here.”

Daven dragged a hand through his wet hair as he looked from the hospital to the rain-dark sky above it. “Of course they did. Send those assholes across the city while everyone else stares at broken cameras. Brilliant. They wanted someone here. Or they wanted someone away from somewhere else.”

Vandor didn’t reply, but his eyes lifted toward the hospital roof. If Daven had to guess, the guard actually looked spooked.

Daven followed his gaze for a moment, then scoffed. “What?”

Vandor shook his head slightly. “Nothing.”

Daven exhaled hard and turned away again. “I swear, if this turns out to be some planted signal, I’m going to⁠—”

He broke off.

His multi-slate flickered, then the signal vanished.

Daven stared at the blank screen and let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Rain ran down his face as he looked back at the hospital, the empty road, the dead signal in his hand. “I know something about that loop was wrong.”

Vandor glanced at him. “What?”

Daven dragged a hand through his wet hair, jaw tight. “Nothing. I just…” He looked up at the hospital roof again, the storm pressing harder over the district. “What the fuck did they want us to see?”