Page 8 of Beautiful Scars: Unshakeable

"That's a lot of data." Wolf's tone sharpens with interest. "What am I looking for?"

"You'll be filtering for specific data. Women only. They'll have no emergency contacts or family listed on their intake forms or paperwork. These would be women admitted for assault, or with any mention of domestic violence or something similar in their records anywhere. Especially if they were referred to a social worker. Check discharge records against missing persons reports."

I watch Gray Hair pick up the phone to make another call. "And Wolf? It needs to be done yesterday."

"Give me a few hours to get in and set up to get an idea of what we're looking at."

The call ends. I pocket my phone, turning back toward the emergency room. The lights still buzz overhead and nothing has changed except the fact that I know things aren't what they seem.

I lean against the wall, Rex's paperwork forgotten in my hand. My carefully constructed mask finally cracks as I watch some of the most trusted people in society, circle their prey. Thisplace isn't about healing. It's a well-oiled machine designed to tear apart a portion of the people it was created to serve.

And somewhere in this system is the key to finding Sunny. I'm sure of it.

Chapter Four

Zane

IhelpRexoutof the car, his face tight with pain despite the medication.

"You good?"

He nods, cradling his casted arm. "I'm fine, Z. Get back there and find something out."

The drive back to the hospital takes fifteen minutes. I park my black Charger behind a maintenance shed, positioning it for the best view of the loading dock while still staying hidden in the shadows. The hospital's service entrance stretches before me. Harsh overheard streetlamps create pools of bright white on the concrete.

My fingers drum against the steering wheel as I check my watch. 11:55 PM. The night air is cool and heavy, broken only by the distant sound of ambulance sirens.

Movement catches my eye and I bring the binoculars up. The security guard I recognize from earlier emerges first, checking the area. The social worker follows, guiding twowomen—the brunette and the blonde I recognize from the ER. Their steps are hesitant but willing.

The brunette hugs herself tight. She's wearing a set of non-descript hospital scrubs. Her eyes dart around nervously, but the social worker keeps a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The blonde clutches a small bag to her chest, her long hair damp around her shoulders.

11:58 PM.

The security guard positions himself near the door. It looks like a natural move, but now, there's no way back inside unless it's through him. They wait with the patience and confidence of people who've done this before. My hand tightens on the wheel as I think about how many women they've potentially "helped".

The soft hum of an engine breaks the silence. A white passenger van with heavily tinted windows glides up to the loading dock, its headlights off. Careful.

The social worker steps forward, all warm smiles and gentle encouragement. The brunette moves first, wrapping her arms around the woman in a grateful embrace. The blonde follows suit, whispering what looks like "thank you" before they both climb into the van.

No plates on the van. Not even temporary ones. The vehicle idles smoothly, waiting until the women are settled before pulling away with the same careful precision it arrived with. The security guard and social worker watch it disappear before heading back inside, their job done.

I pull out my phone, dialing Colt.

"They just moved two women," I report, keeping my voice low despite being alone. "White passenger van, no plates. They've clearly done this before."

"Shit." Colt's voice crackles through the speaker. "Wolf's still working on getting us into the database. It's a heavy-duty system."

"Of course it is." I watch as the loading dock returns to its innocent facade.

"I'll push Wolf. What's your next move?"

My jaw clenches as I start the engine. The urge to follow the van wars with the need to maintain surveillance here and try to discover more about the process. But, I know better than to risk exposing myself. I've already been seen here tonight.

This operation seems too well-organized, too careful. One wrong move could send them underground, taking any chance of finding the connection, if any, to Sunny with them.

"Screw it." I end the call with Colt and pull out after the van, keeping plenty of distance between us. My headlights stay off until we hit the main road, blending with sparse late-night traffic.

The van takes a winding path through Oak Valley's industrial district, past shuttered warehouses and empty parking lots. Every turn is deliberate, designed to expose anyone tailing them. I hang back, using skills honed from years of surveillance work. When they cut through a shopping center, I parallel them on the service road instead of following directly.

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