The night didn't slow anything down.
By the time Sharon finished sending out the last message, responses had already started coming back in. Not full reports, not anything polished, but enough fragments to show movement. Numbers from one contact, rough mapping from another, voice notes from someone who had clearly just stepped outside to talk without being overheard. It wasn't clean, but it was fast, and that was what she needed.
She stood near the table with her phone still in her hand, scanning through updates as they came in, then cross-checking them against what she already had open on her laptop. Every few seconds she would pause, adjust something, type a short reply, then move to the next piece of information. There was no wasted motion in it. She wasn't trying to understand everything perfectly yet, she was trying to get a working picture that could hold under pressure.
Across the room, Dayo hadn't moved far from the window.
