Chapter 5 - The Aftermath of the Storm
The smoke was still hanging in the air when the first responders arrived. The Blackwell estate was a ruin, the gardens scorched, the windows jagged teeth in the face of the mansion.
I sat on the tailgate of an ambulance, a blanket draped over my shoulders. My uniform was torn and stained with soot and blood. Nathan was nearby, his shoulder bandaged, talking to the local authorities—the ones he hadn't bought.
He walked over to me, his gait unsteady. He looked at the wreckage of his home, then at his son, who was sitting in the back of another ambulance, watching the chaos with a calm that was far too old for his years.
"They're gone," Nathan said. "The organization, the house, the power. It all went up in an hour."
"Good," I said, sipping a bottle of water. "It was rotting from the inside anyway."
He looked at me, a strange, small smile touching his lips. "You saved him. You saved us both."
"I didn't do it for you."
"I know." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, heavy key. He placed it in my hand. "It’s a bank box in the Caymans. Enough to start over. A new name, a new life. Take Ethan."
I looked at the key, then at the boy. Ethan was looking at me, his eyes filled with a terrifyingly clear understanding of what had happened. He knew his father was a monster, and he knew I was the one who had stopped the other monsters from destroying us.
"And you?" I asked.
"I have a few accounts to settle," Nathan said, turning back toward the ruins of his empire. "And then I’m going to disappear. I’m not a father who deserves a son like him."
I took Ethan’s hand. We walked toward the ambulance, leaving the burning house behind us. We didn't look back. We didn't care about the money in the bank box or the wreckage of the Blackwell name.
As the sun began to rise over Chicago, casting long, golden shadows across the pavement, I felt a weight fall away from my shoulders. The maid was gone. The protector was retired.
May you like
Ethan squeezed my hand, his stride firm on the asphalt. He didn't need the walker anymore. He didn't need the purple medicine. He just needed to walk, and I was going to be there to make sure he kept moving, no matter how far we had to go.
The story of Nathan Blackwell and his deadly kingdom was over. But for the boy who had learned to stand, and the woman who had helped him reach for the sky, the life we were about to build—quiet, normal, and entirely our own—was just beginning.
