The bullpen looked different now.
Harder.
Vests.
Rifles.
Extra mags spread across desks.
Deputies moved with the coiled focus that always came before danger.
Sara Parker tightened the straps on her vest while Luke Hale checked flashlights and ammunition beside the evidence counter.
The metallic slide of rifles coming from racks echoed through the room.
Luke looked up.
Sara’s eyes met his briefly across the bullpen.
No smile.
No words.
A look that lingered a second too long.
You good?
Yeah.
You?
Sara gave the smallest nod.
Luke looked away first and grabbed another flashlight.
Nearby, Deputy Baker was fitting Ruger’s K-9 harness while the German Shepherd paced with restless energy.
Jenkins loaded shotgun shells into a side pouch.
Grant stood near the map wall, looking like a man built entirely out of rage.
The front doors opened.
Burke walked in holding the signed warrant.
Behind him, the glass doors pushed open. Burton Scott stepped into the bullpen, wearing a worn, dusty tactical vest. The room went still.
Burke frowned immediately.
“Dad, what are you doing?”
Burton walked straight toward the rifle rack in Burke’s office.
“What’s it look like?”
He unlocked the rack and pulled out a patrol rifle with practiced familiarity.
Burke stared at him.
