Page 14

CHAPTER 14

ROKKON

I stride up to the hospital, the megaphone in my hand feeling like a weapon in its own right. The Armani suit clings to my frame, but the disguise does nothing to dull the fire in my veins. My human face is a mask, but my Vakutan soul is ready to erupt. Fester Boyle has made his last mistake.

“Fester N. Boyle,” I bark into the megaphone, my voice sharp enough to cut through the chaos. “Come out and face me, you coward.”

The ER doors swing open, and there he is—Fester, his grin as oily as the hog fat his family used to peddle. He’s got Vicki in front of him, a gun pressed to her temple. She’s scared, but her eyes lock with mine, and I see the defiance there. She trusts me. Good.

“Well, well, well,” Fester drawls, his voice dripping with faux politeness. “If it ain’t the big city billionaire come to save the day. Let me tell you somethin’, Mr. Anderson. I own this town. I own the people in it. I could shoot this girl right here in broad daylight, and nothin’ would happen to me. Nothin’.”

I tilt my head, my lips curling into a cold smile. “How many bullets in that gun, Fester?”

He chuckles, the sound like gravel in a tin can. “All right, I’ll indulge you. I’ve got six shots left—but trust me, I only need one to perforate the town skank’s head.” He presses the barrel harder against Vicki’s temple, and I feel my pulse quicken. Not fear. Anticipation.

“I don’t think you have enough bullets for everyone,” I say.

I raise the megaphone again. “Now.”

The street erupts. People pour out from alleys, from cars, from the shadows. They’re not cops or politicians. They’re the people of Belleville—shopkeepers, mechanics, bartenders, mothers. Sal and his barfly crew are among them, their faces hard with resolve. The crowd spreads out, surrounding the hospital, and Fester’s grin falters.

“You’ve hurt a lot of people over the years, Fester,” I say, my voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd. “A lot of people who have friends, families. Your enemies list has finally caught up with you.”

Fester’s eyes dart around, his confidence slipping. He tosses the gun to the ground, but his sneer returns, desperate and ugly. “You think you’ve won? I still own ninety-five percent of this city! All of you have to sleep sometime!” He jabs a finger at the crowd, his voice rising to a shout. “I never forgive and I never forget! Each and every one of you will pay. This will never be over as long as Fester N. Boyle draws breath?—”

The gunshot cuts him off, sharp and final. Fester looks down at the crimson stain spreading across his chest, his mouth hanging open in shock. He stumbles, then collapses to the ground. The crowd goes silent, the air thick with the weight of what just happened.

Vicki runs to me, and I wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. She’s trembling, but her eyes are fierce. “Who—” she starts, but I shake my head.

I step forward, the crowd parting like water around me, my eyes locked on Jim. He’s slumped against the hospital wall, the IV pole he dragged along with him rattling as his hands shake. The gun’s still smoking in his grip, and his face is pale, like he’s just realized what he’s done.

“Dad!” Vicki’s voice cracks as she rushes toward him, her heels clicking against the pavement. She’s at his side in seconds, her hands fluttering over him, unsure where to land. “You—you’re hurt, we need to get you back inside?—”

“I’m sorry,” Jim rasps, coughing hard enough to make his shoulders shake. His bloodshot eyes flick to me, then back to Vicki. “It was the only way to keep my baby girl safe.”

“Dad, stop talking,” Vicki snaps, but her voice wobbles. She tries to pull him up, but he’s dead weight, his legs buckling under him. I stride over, hooking an arm under his shoulders, and hoist him up like he’s nothing.

“Let’s get him inside,” I say.. Vicki nods, her lips pressed into a thin line, and she grabs the IV pole, dragging it along behind us.

Sal steps forward, his arms crossed over his barrel chest. He glances down at Fester’s body, then back up at the crowd, his voice carrying like a judge pronouncing sentence. “It sure is a shame,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “About Fester shooting himself, that is. I guess he just couldn’t stand the idea of facing justice so he killed himself.”

The silence stretches for a beat too long. Then, from the back of the crowd, an old woman’s voice cuts through. “Open and shut case of suicide,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact. “We all saw it, didn’t we?”

“I saw it,” says a man in a plaid shirt, his voice steady.

“I saw it,” a woman echoes, her arms crossed over her chest.

One by one, the crowd starts chanting, voices overlapping until it’s a single, unified chorus. “I saw it. I saw it. I saw it.”

I glance at Vicki, and she’s staring at the crowd, her eyes wide. She’s shaking, but not from fear. From relief. From hope. We’ve won. Fester’s gone, and Belleville’s finally free.

“Let’s get him inside,” I repeat, and this time, Vicki doesn’t argue. We move toward the hospital doors, the crowd parting to let us through. The chanting follows us, a promise, a vow.

As we cross the threshold, I smirk. The Mean Street Posse’s done for. And Fester? He’s just another corpse in a town riddled with them.

Mom's eyes glisten as she hugs me tight. The faint scent of lavender replaces the usual whiskey breath. "Call me when you land, baby."

"I will." The words catch in my throat. A week ago, I'd given up hope. Now here they stand - both my parents clear-eyed and present.

Dad shuffles forward, his new cane clicking on the porch boards. His skin has lost that sickly yellow tinge. "We're gonna make it this time, Vick. I promise."

"I know you will." The faith in my voice surprises me. Maybe it's the compound X working its magic, or maybe it's seeing them both actually try for once.

Rokkon extends his hand to Dad. "You're a brave man, Jim. And you raised an incredible daughter."

Dad's weathered face cracks into a genuine smile. "Take care of my little girl."

The Mercedes purrs to life as we pull away from the old homestead. Through the rear window, I watch them grow smaller - two figures waving from the sagging porch of my childhood home.

"What happens now?"

"The hunt for the Grolgath continues." Rokkon's purple eyes flash with predatory gleam.

"No, I mean..." I trace the scales on his forearm. "What happens with us?"

His laugh rumbles deep in his chest. "Isn't it obvious?" He takes my hand, his grip warm and sure. "We live happily ever after together. I love you, Victoria."

She sniffles and smiles through her tears.

"I love you, too, Rokkon."

The setting sun paints the sky in shades of amber and rose. I lean my head against his shoulder, finally at peace.