Chapter 9 - A Father's Vow
The hours leading up to midnight were painfully quiet.
I spent the evening in Joshua's bedroom. A large tent made of wool blankets and heavy cushions had been erected between the two twin beds. Inside, lit by the warm, amber glow of a battery-powered lantern, Joshua and Emma were listening intently as I read from an old, leather-bound book of fairy tales.
Joshua was already nodding off, his small head resting on Emma’s lap. Emma, however, was wide awake, her fingers gently stroking Josh's hair the exact same way she had done under the rainy canopy of Pioneer Square.
"Daniel?" she asked softly as I closed the book.
"Yes, Emma?"
"Are you going somewhere tonight?"
I paused, looking at her sharp, intuitive eyes. Street kids had a sixth sense for danger; they could smell tension the way animals smelled an incoming thunderstorm. She had seen the guards outside checking their sidearms; she had seen the heavy armored SUVs being prepped in the lower garage.
"Just to the office," I said gently, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Some business I need to finish so we can go to the coast this weekend."
She looked down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. "Is it the bad men from Chicago?"
My breath caught slightly. "How do you know about Chicago?"
"Mom used to cry when she talked on the payphone," Emma whispered, her voice trembling. "She said Chicago was full of wolves. She said the biggest wolf was her dad, and if he ever found me, he'd lock me in a cage so the other wolves couldn't bite."
I sat down inside the blanket fort, completely ignoring the bespoke tailoring of my suit trousers. I took both of her tiny, fragile hands into mine.
"Listen to me, Emma. Very carefully."
She looked up, her gray eyes luminous in the lantern light.
"Your mother was trying to protect you from the wolves," I told her, my voice unwavering. "She ran as far as she could, and she did everything she could. But she’s resting now. And you don't have to run anymore."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not running," I said, holding her gaze. "And around here... the wolves don't bite us. We hunt them. You are safe in this house. You have a brother who loves you, and you have me. I made a vow the night I found you that nobody would ever hurt you again. And I keep my promises."
She leaned forward, burying her face into my chest. Her small arms wrapped around my neck with surprising strength.
"I love you, Daddy," she whispered against my shirt.
The word shattered through me like lightning.
Daddy.
Not Daniel. Not Mr. Anderson.
I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms tightly around her small, fragile frame, feeling the delicate pulse of her fighting heart. Every piece of darkness I had ever carried in my soul—every sin, every bullet, every ruthless choice I had made to rule this city—suddenly found its purpose. I wasn't just defending territory anymore. I was defending my daughter.
"I love you too, Emma," I answered, my voice thick with emotion.
Ten minutes later, both children were fast asleep under the heavy duvets. I stood by the door, watching their peaceful faces for a long moment, before stepping out into the hallway and pulling the heavy oak door shut.
The warmth vanished from my face.
Marcus was waiting at the end of the corridor, holding my dark tactical jacket and a pair of black leather gloves. Behind him stood eight men from our elite private security unit, equipped with night-vision optics and silenced carbines.
"Pier 42 is secure," Marcus reported in a low murmur. "Vincent’s boats arrived from Vancouver twenty minutes ago. They have sixteen men on the dock, heavily armed. They think they're ambushing an exchange."
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I slid my arms into the jacket, zipping it to the throat. I pulled my gloves on, flexing my fingers.
"Let's make sure none of them see another sunrise," I said.
