Asher POV
By the time the first pale streaks of morning light broke through the heavy curtains of my study, the air felt thick and stagnant. A whole day and a night had bled together into one long, exhausting blur. The empty apartment of Marie Santos had been a heavy blow, but we couldn't afford to sit around and lick our wounds. The enemy was moving fast, and the clock was ticking.
Jupiter had been surviving entirely on black coffee, his fingers typing in a slow, rhythmic pattern that kept time with the ticking clock on the wall. For the last twenty-four hours, we had been pulling every single scrap of traffic camera footage from the harbor district. It was mind-numbing work.
"I've got the clip," Jupiter said, his voice rough and deep from lack of sleep. He didn't look up, but he tapped his knuckle against the desk, signaling us to come over.
