Chapter 4 - The Rot in City HallThe silence in the underground clinic was absolute. Even the hum of the medical monitors seemed to fade into the background.
Vincent didn't move. He didn't blink. For seventeen years, he had blamed the criminal underworld, rival gangs, and his own lifestyle for drawing a target on his sister’s back. He had spent nearly two decades building an empire of blood and money just so he could buy information, squeeze politicians, and tear down the city brick by brick to find her killer.
And now, a wounded police detective was telling him the monster had been wearing a three-piece suit and sitting in city hall all along.
“Mayor Richard Sterling,” Vincent said, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet whisper. The name tasted like ash and poison.
“Sterling wasn't mayor back then,” Sarah said, wincing as she shifted her weight. “In 2009, he was the Deputy District Attorney. He handled the high-profile narcotics and vice cases—the ones that never went to trial because the evidence rooms kept catching fire. Your sister didn't overdose on fentanyl, Vincent. She was an intern at the DA’s office. She found financial ledgers proving that Sterling was laundering cartel money through municipal real estate projects.”
Vincent stood up slowly. The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, pressing down with crushing weight.
“She threatened to go public,” Vincent said, connecting the dots that had remained broken for almost two decades.
“She tried to bring the files to an honest captain,” Sarah replied, her voice steady despite her pain. “That captain was found hung in his garage three days later, ruled a suicide. And Elena was dumped in a motel room with enough synthetic opioids in her system to kill a horse—poured down her throat after she was already dead.”
Vincent turned his back to her, walking over to the small barred window that looked out onto the rainy alley above. His hands gripped the window sill so tightly that his knuckles turned stark white.
“And tonight?” Vincent asked, his back still to her. “Who tried to finish the job?”
“Commander Hayes,” Sarah said. “My direct supervisor at the precinct. I requisitioned the 2009 cold case archives from the basement vault yesterday afternoon. Three hours later, Hayes pulled me into the parking garage and told me to drop it. When I told him to go to hell, he waited for me behind the laundromat.”
Vincent slowly turned around. His face was a mask of cold, terrifying calm—the look of a man who had just decided to burn down his entire world to find a single enemy.
“Leo,” Vincent called out.
The heavy steel door swung open instantly. Leo Bennett stepped inside, buttoning his leather jacket, his face grim.
“Boss?”
“Get the cars ready,” Vincent said, his eyes locking onto Leo with a burning intensity. “We’re going visiting.”
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“Vince, where?” Leo asked, glancing at the detective on the bed.
“City Hall,” Vincent replied, pulling a heavy black 9mm pistol from his waistband and sliding it into his holster. “It’s time to collect a seventeen-year-old debt.”
