Chapter 102 Madison

• The air inside the 4th Precinct smelled of floor wax, burnt coffee, and desperation. It was a stark, ugly contrast to the lavender-scented silk and marble of Bentley’s penthouse. Madison felt exposed, her bruises standing out like ink on parchment under the harsh fluorescent lights.
• Bentley moved through the precinct like he owned the foundation it was built on. He didn't stand in line. He walked straight to the sergeant’s desk, his presence drawing every eye in the room.
• "Bentley Hilton," he said, his voice cutting through the chatter of radios and ringing phones. "I’m here to facilitate the release of Joshua Miller."