The internal hearing room was smaller than Rowan expected.Not a courtroom. Not dramatic. Just fluorescent lights, beige walls, and a long rectangular table that made everything feel clinical instead of grand. A digital recorder blinked red in the center, documenting every word.Rowan sat upright in her dress uniform, dark hair pulled back tight, tattoos hidden beneath sleeves that felt heavier than usual. Her boots were polished. Her jaw was steady.Across the table sat Internal Affairs.Two captains. One deputy chief. A civilian oversight rep.And the quiet hum of suspicion.“Officer Rowan Callahan,” the deputy chief began, voice neutral. “You understand this hearing is to determine whether your conduct during and after the Cross arrest compromised departmental integrity.”“Yes, sir,” she replied evenly.Her tone didn’t waver.It couldn’t.“You were lead officer during the sweep at the apartment on East Grant,” the captain said. “You placed Casey Cross under arrest.”“Yes.”“Did you
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