Chapter 9 - The Final Standoff
Preston Hale looked completely unhinged, his tuxedo covered in dust from the explosion below.
He had dragged Walter from the secure hotel and brought him directly into the line of fire.
"Give me the files, Vetti!" Preston screamed, his hand shaking wildly around the gun.
Walter looked at Clara with tired, resigned eyes, silently telling her not to surrender the evidence.
"If you shoot him, Preston, you will never leave this lobby alive," Damian stated coldly.
Damian raised his own weapon, aiming it perfectly between Preston's terrified eyes.
"The Mayor promised me immunity!" Preston yelled, sweating profusely under the crystal chandeliers.
"The Mayor left you here to die while he escapes to his private jet," Clara interrupted fiercely.
Preston hesitated, glancing frantically toward the empty doors where the Mayor had fled minutes earlier.
That momentary distraction was all Damian needed.
He didn't shoot Preston in the head; he shot the gun right out of the coward's hand.
Preston screamed in pain, dropping to his knees and clutching his bleeding fingers.
Walter stumbled forward, and Clara ran to catch the old man before he hit the marble floor.
"Are you okay, Walter?" she cried, hugging him tightly.
"I am fine, my dear," Walter wheezed, managing a small, grateful smile.
Damian walked over to Preston and kicked him hard in the ribs, ensuring he stayed down on the ground.
The sound of massive helicopters suddenly filled the air outside the bank's glass walls.
Dozens of federal agents in tactical gear poured through the shattered front doors.
They were not the corrupt local police; these were the federal prosecutors Damian had contacted earlier.
The lead agent walked up to Damian and held out his hand.
"Do you have the evidence, Mr. Vetti?" the federal agent asked formally.
Damian handed over the thick manila folders and the black ledger.
"This is everything you need to arrest the Mayor, Preston Hale, and half the corrupt review board," Damian confirmed.
The agents dragged a crying Preston away in heavy steel handcuffs.
Clara watched them leave, feeling the massive weight of the last three days finally lift off her shoulders.
She had done it.
She had saved Walter, exposed the corruption, and survived a war she never asked to join.
Damian turned to her, the adrenaline finally fading from his sharp features.
"You did good, Clara," he said, his voice softer than she had ever heard it.
"I had a pretty decent guardian angel," she smiled, looking up into his dark eyes.
Damian stepped closer, the tension between them crackling like electricity in the ruined lobby.
He reached out and gently brushed a streak of ash from her cheek.
May you like
"I think I need to confess something else to you," Damian whispered, leaning in slowly.
Before their lips could meet, Damian's phone rang with an emergency override tone.
