Chapter 17 - The Price of Loyalty
Sloan's daughter was dying.
That was Frank's leverage.
He had paid for an experimental treatment, then threatened to cut it off unless Sloan helped him.
I understood in one ugly second.
Sloan wasn't loyal to Frank.
He was terrified for his child.
"Answer it," I said.
Frank snapped, "Don't."
Sloan's hand shook.
"Answer the phone," I repeated.
He did.
A nurse spoke fast on the other end. Sloan's face collapsed.
"She's stable?" he whispered. "You're sure?"
He looked at me.
I knew what he was asking without words.
Earlier that night, before we left the estate, I had told my office to guarantee the girl's treatment regardless of what happened to her father.
Because children were not debts.
They were not bargaining chips.
That was the one rule I refused to inherit from men like Frank.
"Her care is covered," I said. "No matter what you do next."
Sloan began to cry.
Frank raised his gun.
Vincent fired first.
The bullet hit Frank's wrist. His weapon dropped.
Quinn drove her elbow into Sloan, but he didn't fight. He lowered his gun and fell to his knees.
Frank ran for the side exit.
I chased him.
We crashed through a treatment room and into a stairwell. He was bleeding badly but moving fast.
"It's over!" I shouted.
"Nothing is over while men like you still own the city!"
"You tried to murder an eight-year-old. Don't pretend this is philosophy."
He reached the roof.
Cold wind tore across the building.
Frank backed toward the edge.
"Your father built everything you have."
"My father built fear."
"And you used it."
"Yeah. I did."
That was the truth I had spent years polishing into nicer language.
"But Ethan doesn't have to."
Frank laughed. "You think a house like yours lets children grow up clean?"
Sirens filled the street below.
He looked toward the neighboring roof.
Too far to jump.
He tried anyway.
I caught his wrist as his body went over the edge.
For one moment, Frank Delaney hung above six stories of empty air, held only by the son of the man he had served for forty years.
He looked up at me.
"Let go."
I tightened my grip.
"No."
His face twisted.
"Why?"
"Because you don't get to turn me into you."
May you like
Then someone behind me fired.
And Frank's hand slipped from mine.
