Six girls. That number hadn't changed since the week Lewin's people found the last five together in a slum building, hiding from changes in their own bodies they couldn't understand. Since then, nothing.
He'd left standing orders to watch for more. An illness that ignored treatment, eyes that struggled to stay focused. Months had passed without a single report, even if a city this large almost certainly held more than six.
The obvious ways to search carried a cost. Any organized effort would reveal what he was doing, and eventually someone would ask why. Once word reached the wrong ears, families with daughters showing those signs wouldn't bring them forward. They would hide them deeper, or sell that knowledge to whoever offered the highest price.
He set the literacy pages aside but left the ledger open.
