We had thirty-one hours left.
That number sat in the back of my mind as I stepped through the precinct doors the next morning, the hum of the flickering lights overhead somehow louder than usual. The air was thick, heavier than the rain that had fallen all night, a pressure that settled in my lungs, making every breath feel like a chore.
We had less time every second…
And yet, for the first time since this nightmare began, I felt something that almost resembled calm.
Hope.
A plan.
The one I saw in the movie, tucked between the gunshots and sirens and cuffs on wrists, an idea so simple it was almost laughable.
I just needed to make it work.
I moved quickly, cutting through the bullpen with purpose, ignoring the questioning looks from officers, the whispers that followed in my wake. They didn't matter right now. None of it did.
I needed to find Grant.
