She had read the same page three times.
The report was straightforward—Pier Eleven surveillance findings, organized the way Sebastian organized everything: clean columns, numbered entries, no wasted language. She could process it in her sleep. The problem was she had been doing something close to sleeping for three days and her concentration kept sliding off the page, losing its grip the way a hand loses grip when the muscles haven't been used. She was aware of the gap between what her mind should be doing and what it was doing, and she did not like it, and she could not fix it yet. Those three facts sat in a cluster at the back of her skull and refused to move.
She set the report down.
