Chapter 273: Echoes of Justice
The precinct sat quietly behind rusted metal gates. No flickering bright lights, no sheen of polish — just a worn brick building showing its age. I paused at the entrance, feeling the same weight I’d felt two years ago, wearing the face of Mr. Dust rather than Mr. Fox.
I’d stood here twice before: once during the interrogation of Cipher’s accomplice, and once when Logan—later revealed as Cipher—burst into the streets and I needed backup. Both times, I’d been in disguise.
Today, I didn’t need the mask.
Pushing through the door, I was met by the low hum of chatter. Officers in crisp uniforms paused mid-step, eyes flickering with curiosity. It might’ve been my past or my title, but still.
I tucked my hands into my coat pockets and made my way to the bullpen.
Officer Grant was there — the same man who’d taken a bullet during Cipher’s last stand, the man I’d went into the forest with before losing consciousness and waking up in a stranger’s hideout. He’d pulled through, and it’s clear that time had sharpened him but not broken him.
"Mr. Vale?" he greeted me from behind a cluster of desks, voice steady. He rose and offered a firm handshake. His arm moved without hesitation now — no hint of injury.
"Officer Grant," I answered. "It’s been a while."
"Too long." He nodded to a nearby desk. "Last time I saw you were wearing a mask... Coffee?"
"Black," I replied, only half-joking.
He returned with two cups — the kind that never come from premium machines. I sipped, scanning the room. No old faces I recognized, which was a relief.