Then he says it. “Poe.”
The word hits the room like a gunshot. River gasps softly. Lark’s eyes widen. Knight’s jaw clenches. Gage’s face hardens. Juno stares at Dean like he must be wrong. Ozzy doesn’t move at first. He just stares at Dean, eyes sharp and disbelieving.
“That’s not possible,” Ozzy says, voice low and dangerous.
Rae swallows. “It’s his.”
Ozzy shakes his head once. “No. Poe doesn’t betray us.”
Dean’s voice stays calm. “I don’t want to believe it either. But the signature is consistent with previous work tied to his accounts.”
Ozzy’s hands curl into fists. “Accounts can be copied.”
“They can,” Rae agrees, but her eyes look miserable. “Not easily. Not without access. Not without knowing his style.” She sighs. “And… where is he?”
My heart pounds so hard it hurts. I look at Ozzy, watching his face fracture in real time. Rage and denial and fear all fighting to be the one in control.
Sawyer speaks then, voice clipped. “I just called the hospital.”
The room goes still again.
“What?” Arrow asks.
Sawyer’s expression hardens. “Salem’s father is missing.”
My breath leaves my body in a sharp rush. “No,” I whisper, the word thin.
Sawyer’s gaze flicks to me. “During the commotion, during shift change, he was moved.”
“Moved where,” I ask, my voice rising.
“They don’t know,” Sawyer replies. “He is not in the room. They have no record of where he went.”
My stomach twists hard. My father was fragile. Injured. Guarded. Someone took him anyway. Someone who knew he mattered. Someone who knew we would come back for answers.
“Camera footage shows a man in a hoodie. Might be Poe. Might not,” Sawyer says.
Ozzy’s face turns savage. “Poe?”
Dean’s eyes narrow. “We tried calling him.” He pulls his phone out, thumb moving quickly. “It went to voicemail. Then this came in.” Dean sets the phone on the table and slides it toward Ozzy.
Ozzy grabs it.
I lean closer, my breath catching.
A single text message. Just words that make my blood freeze.
Stop digging. You already have the girl. Be grateful.
Underneath it is a photo.
A blurry image taken from somewhere above. A hallway. A hospital corridor. A gurney being pushed. My father’s face visible for half a second, bruised and pale. A hand in the corner of the frame. Wearing a ring. The kind of ring you would only notice if you were looking for it.
Ozzy’s face goes white-hot with fury. “That’s him,” he whispers.
My throat closes. “Poe took my father?”
Dean’s voice is quiet and heavy. “It appears that way.”