Chapter 8 - The Verdict of the Lake
"Put the gun down, Julian," Dominic said.
Julian looked at the small silver derringer in his hand, then at the five heavy pistols pointed at him from below. He let out a wet, rattling laugh, his shoulders shaking as he realized there was no exit, no lawyer, and no amount of family money that could save him from the man standing before him.
"You're going to kill me anyway, Dom," Julian said, his voice dropping to a pathetic whisper. "You always were the Wolf. You never let anyone slide."
"No," Dominic said. "I am not going to kill you."
Julian blinked, a small, desperate hope flaring in his eyes. "You... you aren't?"
"Killing you would be too easy, Julian," Dominic said, his face cold and unyielding as stone. "You are going to prison. For the rest of your life. The documents in my office have already been sent to the federal prosecutor. The Gary police are waiting at the gates."
He looked up at Claire, and then down at Noah, who was still standing tall, his small hand holding hers.
"And you are going to listen to my son tell the jury exactly what you did to his mother," Dominic said.
Julian’s gun dropped from his fingers, clattering down the marble steps before coming to a stop at Dominic's feet.
Miles Archer stepped forward, grabbing Julian's arms and pinning them behind his back with a pair of heavy steel handcuffs. Julian did not fight. He went limp, his head hanging down as he was dragged down the stairs and out through the heavy front doors into the waiting police cars.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Dominic stood on the landing, his hands hanging at his sides. He looked at Claire, his eyes filled with an emotion so raw, so deep, and so terrifyingly honest that she couldn't look away.
Then, he looked at his son.
Noah let go of Claire’s hand. He walked slowly down the steps, his small bare feet cool on the stone, until he stood right in front of his father.
He looked up, his dark eyes clear.
"Daddy," Noah said, his voice small but perfectly formed. "The storm is gone."
Dominic’s knees gave out.
He dropped to the marble floor, his massive arms wrapping around his son, pulling him so tight against his chest that the boy’s feet left the ground. Dominic buried his face in his son’s dark curls, his shoulders shaking as twenty-six years of frozen grief, anger, and loneliness finally melted into a silent, desperate weeping.
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Noah held his father’s head, his small fingers stroking the dark hair, his face peaceful in the morning light.
And from the top of the stairs, Claire watched them, her own tears falling silent as she realized that the monsters had finally been driven from the door.
