CHAPTER 9: THE CRUMBLING EMPIRE
Crane's breath hitched. For ten years, he had operated in the underworld as an emotionless ghost, burying his humanity beneath layers of tactical pragmatism. Yet this ten-year-old child had peeled back his armor in thirty seconds using nothing but observation and truth.
"You don't know anything about me," Crane rasped, though his grip on the firearm noticeably weakened.
"My mother taught me that cruelty is just fear wearing heavy boots," Toby said softly. "You don't have to hurt anyone else, Marcus. The money won't cure your guilt. But saving these children will."
Footsteps echoed from the stairwell. Raymond and Barnes burst onto the roof, weapons raised, both wounded but standing firm.
"Drop it, Crane!" Raymond demanded.
Crane looked between the father, the reformed soldier, and the boy standing fearlessly before him. The rain began to fall in earnest, washing over the rooftop.
"If I walk away, they'll kill me," Crane murmured.
"Then stand with us," Toby said, holding out his small, open hand. "And let the world see who you really chose to be."
May you like
Crane stared at the boy's outstretched hand. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his weapon and allowed it to slide across the wet roof deck.
---
