The Moment Everything Broke
Walsh didn’t move at first.
It was as if the words hadn’t reached him yet—like they were still hanging in the air between us, deciding whether to land.
Then his grip tightened.
“What did you say?” he asked, quieter now.
Not calmer. Worse.
Controlled.
I coughed once, more to buy time than because I needed air. The pinhole camera, stitched into the seam of my blanket, was still pointed up at his face. Every micro-expression. Every flicker of doubt.
“I said,” I repeated, forcing my voice steady, “Internal Affairs has been watching you.”
Behind him, Carter finally looked up.
Lopez froze.
You could feel it shift.
Not the power. That takes longer.
But the certainty.
Walsh’s certainty cracked first.
“You think you’re funny?” he said, but the edge in his voice had dulled.
“No,” I replied. “I think you’re done.”
For a fraction of a second, something passed through his eyes—calculation. Then instinct took over.
He shoved me backward.
Hard.
“Resisting,” he snapped loudly, already rewriting the moment. “Subject is resisting.”
Carter flinched.
Lopez hesitated.
The jogger stepped closer now. “Hey—he’s not—”
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