As they entered the lower-income district, the city changed. Streetlights were dimmer. Buildings were closer together. The air looked heavier. People watched from corners and doorways with the kind of quiet suspicion that meant police meant trouble.
Ryan didn’t care what anyone thought.
His eyes were locked forward, hands tight on the wheel.
“Stay behind them,” Tevin warned quietly.
Ryan didn’t answer.
He followed the police vehicles down a narrow street.
Small houses. Rusted gates. Faded paint. A neighbourhood that felt like it had been forgotten by the people who wrote laws and protected rich districts.
The convoy slowed.
Officers began to dismount.
Chief Claude’s voice came through a radio, sharp and controlled. “Positions.”
They stopped at a small house with a low fence and a
