Chapter 8 - The Price of Sovereignty
The private wing of Chicago Memorial Hospital was guarded by twenty federal marshals and thirty of Adrian’s personal soldiers. The city was in a state of absolute shock; the news of the shootout at the Cicero rail yard and the death of Serena Vale had made front-page news across the country. The Moretti family had completely pulled out of the Midwest, their leadership terrified of the savage retaliation Adrian’s empire had unleashed.
Adrian lay in the intensive care bed, a complex array of tubes and monitors surrounding him. The bullet had missed his heart by less than an inch, shattering a rib and puncturing his left lung, but the surgery had been a success.
Lily sat in the chair beside his bed, her hand resting over his uninjured arm. She hadn't left the room in forty-eight hours, refusing to sleep or eat until the doctors confirmed he was out of the woods.
The door opened quietly, and Don Colombo walked in, using his silver-handled cane. The old mob boss looked tired, his ancient eyes filled with a deep respect as he looked at the young man in the bed.
"He survived," Colombo said, his voice a low rattle. "The Hawthorne blood is made of iron."
Lily stood up, her posture defensive, ready to protect Adrian even from the head of the Commission. "He needs to rest, Don Colombo. The doctors said no visitors."
Colombo looked at Lily, a soft, sad smile appearing on his wrinkled face. "I am not here to fight, child. The Commission held a vote last night. With the Vales gone and the Morettis broken, there is nobody left to contest the Hawthorne line. We are offering Adrian the permanent seat at the head of the Council. He will be the undisputed king of the Midwest pipelines."
Adrian’s eyes slowly opened, his voice weak but clear through his oxygen mask. "Tell the Council... to take their seat... and throw it in the river."
Colombo froze, looking at the bed. "Adrian? You're turning down the throne? You've won the war."
Adrian pulled the mask down slightly, his gaze fixed onto Lily’s face. "I didn't fight this war to be a king, Colombo. I fought it to clean my house. As of today, Hawthorne Logistics is going completely legitimate. The shipping lines will carry electronics and grain, not contraband. The clubs will be sold. If the Commission wants a war over the territory, Marcus has enough federal evidence to lock every one of you up in the same block as Victor Vale."
Don Colombo stared at him for a long, silent minute. He let out a long sigh, nodding slowly. "Your father would have called you a fool, Adrian. But looking at this room... looking at what you have... I think you're the smartest of us all. The throne is an electric chair. Enjoy your retirement, Don Hawthorne."
As the old man walked out of the room, leaving the door to click shut behind him, Lily dropped back into the chair, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Adrian... you gave up the empire? For real?"
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"The empire was a prison, Lily," Adrian said, reaching out to take her hand, his grip weak but warm. "I spent thirty-four years guarding a pile of bloody money, waiting for a knife in my back. I don't want that life anymore. I want a house where the windows don't have to be bulletproof. I want a garden where we can walk in the winter without checking for snipers."
He smiled, his hazel eyes clear and full of a peaceful light she had never seen before. "I want to build something real with you."
