Chapter 9 - The Trial of the River
Javier Cruz’s hand shook so violently that the barrel of his gold-plated revolver rattled against the surface of the steel desk.
"You..." Cruz rasped, sweat dripping down his nose, pooling on his upper lip. "You're a devil... a sixteen-year-old demon... How did you do this? How did you break my empire in six months?"
"You broke your own empire, Javier," I replied, my voice calm, even, and detached. "You built it on murder, theft, and cowardice. You thought that because you had money and a title, the people of this city would bow to you forever."
I took three slow steps forward.
Cruz panicked, pulling the trigger.
CLICK.
The hammer fell on an empty chamber. He pulled it again.
CLICK. CLICK.
He had already emptied his weapon firing wildly out the window during the initial assault.
Cruz stared at the useless gun in horror, dropping it onto the desk, scrambling backward in his leather chair until his back hit the wall. "Please..." he wept, dropping to his knees behind the desk, pressing his hands together in supplication. "Please, Aurelio! Don Aurelio! I have money! I have twenty million dollars hidden in a Swiss account! I'll give you the account numbers! I'll leave the country! You will never see my face again!"
I looked down at the man who had ordered the execution of my grandmother.
Four years ago, I had wanted to tear his throat out with my bare hands. I had carried a burning fire of revenge in my chest every single day while sweating on the training mats with Tomas, while studying financial ledgers with Dr. Arispe, and while sitting beside the dying Don Mateo Vargas.
But looking at him now—crawling on the floor, weeping, begging for his miserable life—I felt no rage.
I felt only a deep, profound pity.
“Poverty can empty your stomach, Aurelio... but never let it empty your soul.”
Her voice echoed in my mind, clearer than it had ever been.
I realized then that if I pulled out my gun and shot this weeping coward in the forehead, I would be no different than him. I would be validating everything he believed—that power was nothing more than the ability to kill those who were weaker than you.
"Stand up, Javier," I ordered softly.
Cruz blinked, wiping his nose, slowly pushing himself up onto his feet, staring at me with a flicker of pathetic hope. "You... you're letting me live?"
"I am not going to kill you," I said.
Tomas stepped into the office, carrying a heavy pair of steel handcuffs, followed by two senior officers from the Federal Anti-Corruption Task Force—men who had remained honest despite the city's corruption, and whom I had personally contacted three hours before the raid.
"Councilman Javier Cruz," the lead federal officer announced, stepping forward, snapping the steel cuffs around Cruz’s wrists. "You are under arrest for federal land fraud, grand arson, political corruption, and the first-degree murder of Esperanza Mendoza."
Cruz’s jaw dropped. He looked at me, then at the federal officers, realization washing over him like a wave of cold water.
He wasn't going to die a dramatic death in the dark on Pier 14. He was going to spend the rest of his life in a maximum-security federal prison, stripped of his wealth, his reputation, his titles, and his freedom, exposed to the entire country as a murderer and a thief.
"Take him away," I said quietly.
As the federal officers dragged the screaming, sobbing former councilman out into the rain, Tomas stepped beside me, looking out the window at the morning light breaking over the bay.
May you like
"You could have ended him here, Don Aurelio," Tomas said quietly. "No one in the syndicate would have questioned it."
"I know," I said, pulling the silver falcon pocket watch from my vest, opening the latch, watching the second hand tick steadily forward. "But my grandmother didn't die so I could become another Javier Cruz. We are going to build something better."
