Chapter 14 - The Final Stand
The silence in the rotunda stretched until it became unbearable. Every television anchor in the room had stopped talking. The live feed was broadcasting the evidence to the entire nation without commercial interruption.
Henderson looked at the screen. He looked at the mayor. Then, his gaze settled on Marcus Vance, standing thirty feet away down the red-carpeted aisle.
Four years of calculated lies, four years of unchecked power, and twelve million dollars in illicit cartel wealth had evaporated in less than ninety seconds.
A terrifying, unhinged calm settled over Henderson’s face.
“You should have died in that cell, Marcus,” Henderson whispered, his voice catching in the microphone collar near his lapel.
With a motion so fast it caught the executive security team completely flat-footed, Henderson leveled his .45-caliber pistol directly at Marcus Vance’s chest.
“No!” Miller lunged forward, but he was three strides too far away.
Marcus didn't flinch. Wounded, unarmed, and exhausted, he stood his ground, meeting his former captain’s murderous glare without blinking.
Henderson squeezed the trigger.
Time seemed to collapse into slow, viscous liquid.
Before the hammer could drop, ninety-five pounds of black-and-sable muscle exploded from the floor.
Titan didn't wait for a command. He launched himself through the air in a breathtaking, horizontal arc, his body clearing twelve feet of open space in a split second.
BANG.
The gunshot cracked through the marble rotunda like a cannon blast.
The heavy bullet struck Titan high in the left shoulder blade, the force of the round spinning his midsection in mid-air. A crimson spray misted across the white marble floor.
Yet even as the lead tore through bone and muscle, the Malinois refused to fall.
Driven by pure, undying loyalty, Titan completed his trajectory, crashing directly into Henderson’s chest. The dog’s jaws clamped around Henderson’s right wrist with crushing force, driving the gun from the captain’s hand and slamming the grown man flat onto his back across the raised wooden dais.
Henderson shrieked in agony as the weapon clattered down the marble steps.
“Down! Get down!”
Uniformed city officers, finally realizing who the real criminal was, swarmed the stage. Six patrolmen threw themselves onto Henderson, wrenching his arms behind his back and pinning him to the floor while two others kicked the fallen firearm across the room.
Titan rolled onto his side at the foot of the podium. His breathing was rapid, shallow, and wet. Blood pooled rapidly beneath his flank, staining the pristine city seal woven into the carpet.
“ARES!” Marcus collapsed to his knees beside the fallen dog, ignoring the searing pain in his own gunshot shoulder. His good hand cupped Titan’s muzzle, tears spilling uncontrollably down his weathered cheeks. “No, no, no... Ares, look at me! Look at me, boy!”
Miller dropped down on the other side, his hands tearing off his uniform tie to pack the bleeding thoracic wound. “Hold on, partner! Stay with me! Somebody call an emergency trauma unit! NOW!”
Titan’s amber eyes flickered. His ears, normally sharp and erect, lay limp against his skull. He let out a faint, shuddering breath, his tongue feebly licking the bloody fingers of Marcus Vance’s hand.
May you like
Then, his eyes began to glaze, his heavy chest rising and falling in irregular, desperate gasps.
“Don't you dare close your eyes,” Miller choked out, pressing his weight hard against the entry wound as sirens began to wail outside the municipal plaza. “We won, Ares. We won. You have to stay.”
