The note stayed in my pocket for three days.
Not because I didn’t know what to do with it. It just didn’t need handling yet. Now and then, my fingers brushed its edge between the two stones, and I would think about Victor’s handwriting for a second—straight, heavy, no extra marks—then push the thought away and focus on something else.
The second round of screening was set for the sixth day. The morning before, Zane found me in the map room. Processing schedules covered the secondary table, and my tea had gone cold long ago.
“Four new partials confirmed overnight,” he said, dropping a report on top of the papers.
“All from the southern intake. Someone is using a specific supply chain, not random picks.”
I pulled the report closer.
The four subjects were spread across different queue
