Barry’s POV

The conference room felt strangely hollow once the last set of files hit the table. Weeks of chasing threads, questioning suspects, and piecing together half-truths had boiled down to this—final notes, final signatures, and a silence so heavy it pressed against my skull.

I leaned back in the chair, rubbing at the bridge of my nose. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting pale shadows over tired faces. Dante sat across from me, his expression carved out of stone, arms folded like he still didn’t trust the quiet. Adrian was pacing, as usual, chewing his thoughts to pieces. Alina lingered by the window, her arms crossed, her gaze locked...