Chapter 9 - BLOOD AND LEGACY
Declan caught up to Harrington on the open-air boardwalk at the very end of Navy Pier. The fog was so thick they could barely see ten feet in front of them, but the sound of the crashing waves below was a constant, roaring presence.
Harrington turned, his face pale with terror as he realized his guards had been cut off by the federal agents inside. He pulled a small silver pistol from his vest pocket, his hands shaking violently.
"Stay back, Vale! I’m a United States Senator! You touch me, and the entire weight of the country comes down on you!"
"The country doesn't care about a man who sells out his own city to the cartel, Thomas," Declan said, walking forward with slow, deliberate steps. The rain began to fall again, a light mist that coated his face.
Harrington fired a wild shot. The bullet hissed past Declan’s ear, embedding itself in the wooden boardwalk.
Declan didn't even flinch. He closed the distance, grabbed Harrington’s wrist, and twisted it until the bone snapped with a loud pop. The silver pistol clattered into the dark water below.
Declan grabbed the Senator by his silk tie, dragging him to the edge of the rusted iron railing, forcing his head out over the roaring, black void of Lake Michigan.
"Please," Harrington gasped, his arrogance completely dissolving into pathetic whimpers. "Please, Declan. Think about your children. You kill me, and you'll spend the rest of your life in a supermax prison. You’ll never see them grow up."
Declan paused, his hand gripping the tie so tightly Harrington’s face was turning purple. The Senator’s words were meant to be leverage, but they had the opposite effect. They reminded Declan exactly why this man could never be allowed to breathe the same air as his family again.
"You're right, Thomas," Declan said, his voice deathly quiet. "I need to think about my children. And as long as you're alive, they are never safe."
Declan didn't throw him over. That would be messy. Instead, he pulled a micro-recorder from his inner pocket—the one that had been transmitting everything that had happened in the ballroom directly to a secure server owned by the Department of Justice’s Internal Affairs division.
"I don't need to kill you, Thomas," Declan whispered into the Senator’s ear. "I just ruined you. Every word you said about Marcus, every word about the ledger, the feds inside... it’s already on the wire. The agents who came in tonight weren't yours. They were the ones I tipped off three hours ago using Marcus's phone."
Harrington’s eyes widened in complete, absolute despair as the sound of sirens began to wail from the entrance of the pier. Red and blue lights cut through the fog, illuminating dozens of federal vehicles racing toward them.
Declan released the tie, letting the Senator slump onto the wet wooden planks, a broken, defeated shell of a man.
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Declan turned away, walking into the fog before the police could cordon off the boardwalk. He had Tommy’s extraction vehicle waiting at the service entrance.
The war was over. The empire was in ruins. But for the first time in his life, Declan Vale felt completely free.
