“You should have walked away,” I said, my voice cutting through the air with a clarity that sliced through the tension. That was when I delivered the five words that would seal his fate. “I’m with Internal Affairs. Investigation.”
The color drained from Grant’s face as if someone had flipped a switch. The bravado that had carried him across the room vanished in an instant, replaced by a dawning realization of just how badly he had misjudged the situation. The words hung in the air like a gavel striking down, echoing off the walls of the chow hall. Everyone was watching, not a fork moved, not a spoon clattered.
For a moment, Grant stood frozen, his mouth opening and closing as though trying to form a coherent thought. The room was a sea of eyes, all trained on him, waiting to see what he would do next. But there was no bravado left, just a man suddenly aware that he had stepped into a trap of his own making.
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