The scanner found nothing in Vincent's leg.
Daya ran it twice from hip to knee, then slowed over the place where the shard mark had been. The screen stayed flat. No pulse. No residual thread. No buried object hiding beneath the muscle.
"The site is empty, and whatever sat there has moved or been taken by the body."
The assistant across from her adjusted the overhead imaging arm. "Fresh scar tissue confirms something was there recently, but the tissue is closing like the wound has already been told to forget."
The lead surgeon kept both hands over Vincent's open side. "Check deeper for a dormant read before I start anchoring plates around a moving target."
Daya changed filters. The scanner hummed over Vincent's thigh, collar, ribs, and ruined shoulder. Nothing answered from the leg. The monitors answered everywhere else.
The neural feed jumped.
Two spikes became a harsh, steady buzz.
