Page 49 of Doc
As if on cue, club members emerged from the warehouse, escorting Wallace and three of his deputies in zip-tie restraints.The sight of the corrupt deputy chief sent a cold ripple down my spine.He was the man who had ordered my parents’ deaths, who had shot Doc, who had buried evidence of girls trafficked through his jurisdiction.Bruises marked his face, and a cut above his eye streaked dried blood down his cheek, but his gaze burned with hatred when it locked on mine.
“You should have left it alone, girl.”His voice carried across the distance between us.“Just like your mother should have.”
Tank moved as if to shut him up, but I placed a hand on his arm.“No, let him talk.Every word is another nail in his coffin.”
Agents marched Wallace to a waiting cruiser, his smug mask cracking when he saw how many federal agents surrounded him.Judge Harmon followed, looking far less composed than he ever did in court, his expensive suit wrinkled and stained.
I felt a presence at my back, and I turned to find Doc approaching with a paramedic supporting him.His face looked pale from blood loss, his arm strapped in a professional sling.The paramedic explained they had wanted to take Doc to the hospital, but he’d told them to remove the bullet and send him home or he’d do it himself.His gaze locked on mine, a silent question burning there.Are you okay?
I gave him the smallest nod, strength flowing into me from his presence alone.We’d both survived.The evidence had survived.And now, finally, the truth would too.
Media vans began arriving, reporters sensing a major story unfolding.Agent Brooks conferred with another official -- the district attorney, I realized, recognizing him from news coverage.They approached together, the agent’s expression professionally neutral while the DA looked openly stunned as he flipped through a preliminary report.
“Ms.Treemont,” the DA said, extending his hand.“I understand you wish to make a statement before formally surrendering this evidence.”
“Yes,” I said, shifting my weight to ease the pressure on my injured ankle.“And I know you might not be able to use it because of chain of custody or whatever, but I hope it helps.The people deserve to know what’s been happening in their community, and not secondhand from a reporter.”
They arranged a small area for the statement, positioning me where cameras could capture both my face and the warehouse behind me.Doc moved to stand nearby, his eyes never leaving me despite his obvious pain and exhaustion.Around us, club members formed a loose semicircle -- not interfering, but their presence a clear message.She’s under our protection now.
I recognized faces among them that had once viewed me with suspicion or outright hostility -- Tempest stared down any reporter who stepped too close.Saint scowled at the police rather than at me.Even brothers whose names I didn’t know nodded in acknowledgment as our gazes met.I was no longer the inconvenient niece of a dead member, the troublemaking girl with a conspiracy theory.I was someone who had bled alongside them, fought alongside them, proven myself worthy of their respect.
When the cameras stood ready and the microphones pointed my way, I stepped forward.My mother’s notebook felt warm in my hands, as if some part of her still lingered in its pages.At my side, the evidence bag pressed heavy against me.It carried only copies -- the originals already secured with Agent Brooks -- but its weight still marked the end of one battle and the beginning of another.
“Several weeks ago, my parents were murdered by Deputy Chief Wallace because my mother discovered his connection to a trafficking ring operating under Judge Harmon’s protection,” I began, my voice steady despite my exhaustion.“What appeared to be a tragic car accident was actually a calculated execution to silence a journalist who was about to expose corruption at the highest levels of local government.”
The reporters surged forward slightly, sensing the magnitude of the story unfolding before them.I continued, giving them enough information to show the corruption we’d uncovered, but not enough to ruin the chances of putting these men behind bars for a long time.With each word, I felt lighter, as if my parents’ spirits were finally finding peace.
“This evidence,” I said, holding up the files, “contains everything -- financial records, surveillance footage, and my mother’s original notes.It documents not only the trafficking operation but the conspiracy to hide it, including the orders for my parents’ murder.”
I stepped forward, handing the files directly to the district attorney while cameras flashed around us.His expression was grim as he accepted them, the weight of what they contained evident in his eyes.
“Ms.Treemont,” he said quietly, “I promise you a full and transparent investigation.No matter who is implicated.”
Behind him, Wallace’s face contorted with hatred as he stared at me through the window.Our gazes met, and in that moment, I felt nothing -- no fear, no rage, no satisfaction.Just a profound sense of completion.My mother’s work was finished.Their killer would face justice.
I turned away from Wallace to find the club members still standing like sentinels behind me.There was something in their posture, their expressions, that spoke of more than just duty to a brother’s family.It was respect, hard-earned and genuine.Even Tempest, who had initially argued against my involvement, gave a small nod that communicated more than words could have.
I felt Doc’s presence beside me, his good arm coming to rest lightly on my lower back.
“You did it.She’d be proud.”
I leaned into him slightly, drawing strength from his warmth.“Wedid it.All of us.”
Around us, the scene transformed from a crime scene to a processing site, law enforcement moving with practiced efficiency while reporters clamored for more details.But in that moment, standing with Doc and surrounded by leather-clad men who had become unlikely allies, I felt something I hadn’t experienced since my parents’ deaths.
Peace.
The federal agents and local police swarmed over the warehouse like ants on spilled sugar.I knew it would take them a while to collect and document everything.I stood apart from the chaos, my body aching from exhaustion, my ankle throbbing in time with my heartbeat.The adrenaline that had carried me through the past hours was fading, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness that made even standing difficult.But I remained upright, watching as club members gathered their gear, checking on their wounded, preparing for departure.Their cuts, once intimidating to me, now represented safety, loyalty, a brotherhood that had adopted my cause as their own.
“Ms.Treemont?”Agent Brooks approached, her face showing the first signs of fatigue.“We’ll need you to come in tomorrow for a formal statement.I understand you need rest first.”
I nodded, grateful for the reprieve.“I’ll be there.”
“We’ll have protection for you.”Her gaze flicked to where Doc stood with Tank and Venom.“Though I suspect that’s already been arranged.”
I looked at Doc, who’d never strayed far from me, despite the pain he was in.Even with a bullet wound in his shoulder, his arm in a sling, he carried himself with a quiet strength that made my heart ache.
“Yes, it has.”
