Anthony's voice came through the burner like a blade pressed against calm. "Boss… I think I see Ms. Sienna being transported onto a ship."
I didn't move at first. My whole body froze. Then I started pacing.
"Describe the scene. Everything."
He spoke fast, military-style. "It's a cargo dock, thirty minutes out from the city center. Night shift should've been empty, but I'm counting at least twenty individuals. Suits. Earpieces. Tactical stance. This is coordinated. Government officials, likely from the current World President's side."
My pulse didn't just quicken—it roared. "They're armed?"
"Every last one. And they're moving her like contraband. Not like a civilian, like an asset. The cargo ship's marked for overseas departure—likely a cover for extradition or blacksite detention."
It didn't make sense.
"Why Sienna?" I muttered. "If they wanted leverage, there are easier ways. She's not a political figure. She's not even public-facing."
