Jason's POV
I woke the next morning to a silence that felt like a physical weight. No updates from Gregory, no word on the server breach, and most importantly, no return call from Stephan. I had put that man in the Sheriff’s seat; I had funded his campaign and greased the wheels of every local committee to ensure he wore that badge. He owed me his career, yet he was currently ignoring my calls.
I couldn't manage this from a mahogany desk in Manhattan anymore. I needed to see the look in his eyes.
I drove myself to the station, the morning sun glinting off the hood of the car with an irritating brightness. When I stepped into the lobby, the air smelled of stale coffee and industrial cleaner—the smell of the "little people" and their petty problems.
"I'm here to see Sheriff Stephan," I
