Chapter 77 Controlled Environment

**Gideon**

The police station smells like burnt coffee and disinfectant.

Too bright. Too sterile. Too rehearsed.

The moment we step through the front doors, every pair of eyes shifts. Uniforms. Plainclothes. Dispatch behind glass. They pretend they’re not staring, but they are.

Hazel walks beside me.

Not behind. Not ahead.

Beside.

Her shoulders are straight. Chin level. That same controlled compos