Ryder West
“Find her!” I shouted, my voice cracking as I slammed my fist down on the desk in the security room.
The monitors flickered in front of me, showing different angles of the building.
My hands were shaking so badly I could barely click through the footage. “I want every camera, every second from the last hour. Now!”
The guards scrambled around me, typing frantically on keyboards. One of them tried to speak but I cut him off with a glare. “Don’t give me excuses. Just find my girl.”
I dropped into the chair, my chest heaving as I pulled up the feed from the 28th floor.
The timestamp showed Clara walking into the bathroom. Then nothing.
Ten minutes later the window was open and she was gone. No clear images of the intruders. Just shadows moving too fast, too professional.
