Gray POV

The meeting room at Graystone Metropolitan Police Station was cold.

The door opened, and the director walked in with that smug half-smile of his. Behind him came a younger man—sharp jawline, neatly trimmed beard, blue eyes that looked like they’d seen too much too soon. Nathan Jayden.

I leaned back in my chair, hands in my pockets, gaze fixed on him. “Andrew,” I said without looking away from the newcomer. “Isn’t this the same person who refused to meet me?”

Andrew ...