Cassian didn't return to the upper wing to argue.
He returned to confirm Sable was still standing, to hear the report in her own words, and then to leave again with the same controlled speed that made other wolves step aside without realizing they'd moved. The forged order had been a clean attempt, the kind that relied on procedure and hesitation rather than brute force, and Cassian's expression hardened as he took in the details.
"A sealed directive," he said, voice low.
Sable nodded once. "Laundry soap on him. Fresh enough to make my stomach turn from the corridor."
Mara added, "And smoke in the service corridor, timed to pull guards."
Cassian's jaw flexed, anger contained so tightly it almost looked like calm. He glanced at Sable's face again, registering the faint pallor she couldn't hide from him, then ran his thumb once along her cheekbone with a touch that was equal parts grounding and promise.
"You did right," he said quietly.
Sable didn't soften. "He still tried."
