LANDON
The report reaches me midmorning, folded neatly and delivered with the same measured neutrality as any other patrol note.
“Cheyenne was seen near the west service line.”
Nothing more.
No accusation.
No urgency.
Just phrasing.
Too clean.
Too polished.
I read it twice, not because I need clarification, but because I am listening to the shape of it. “Seen near” is not how patrol wolves describe routine movement. They log presence. They log tasks. They log irregularities. They do not log proximity without context.
This sentence wants a reaction.
I let the paper rest flat on my desk and lean back in my chair, keeping my expression blank even though something tightens at the base of my skull. If whoever fed this downward expects me to snap, to storm through corridors and drag q
