POV: Dante
Umbra sees more than I had planned.
On the screen, I have the dashboard Aurora put together last night. I should be taking care of a thousand other things, but I've been watching her for ten minutes now, watching how she moves the cursor, how she sorts data, how she frowns when something doesn't add up.
In a small box, I can see her image from the internal camera on the level: oversized T-shirt, leggings, hair tied back any old way, coffee cup beside her. She has no idea I'm watching her like this. Not as a director, but as an alpha with a problem.
The map she built is full of red and orange dots.
They're not accidents. They're omegas.
I open one: a file with age, area, marital status, and at the end a label: "relocated," "referred," "special transfer." Always nice terms for ugly things.
