It wasn't just good cover for his undercover assignment tracking Lieutenant Sarah Mitchell's corruption network. These people had become his people. Every genuine moment of connection made the deception weigh heavier on his conscience.
Marcus burst from behind a tree, his Spider-Man shirt already grass-stained from an afternoon of pure joy. He crashed into his father's legs. "Dad, this is the best birthday ever! All my friends are here, and Mom made my favorite cake, and you even got the decorations I wanted!"
James knelt down to his son's eye level, fighting the familiar tightness in his chest that came with leading a double life. "You deserve the best birthday, champ. You only turn eight once."
Despite the joy radiating from his son, James's trained eye caught movement at the park entrance. His hand instinctively moved to check his concealed badge, a habit so ingrained he barely noticed doing it anymore. The FBI shield was tucked safely in his jacket pocket, along with his service weapon and an emergency beacon disguised as his wedding ring.
Eight months of surveillance had documented Lieutenant Mitchell's drug conspiracy, her systematic targeting of minority communities, and her network of corrupt officers who treated their badges like licenses to terrorize.
Maya walked over, reading his micro-expressions. "Not today," she whispered. "Whatever you're thinking. Not today. This is Marcus's day."