Chapter 6 Truths in the Downpour

The rain had been falling for three days straight, turning Chicago into a glistening labyrinth of reflections and shadows. Aveline stood at the window of her apartment, watching water cascade down the glass in hypnotic patterns. The city lights blurred through the deluge, mirroring the chaos in her mind.

On her dining table lay an open file—yellowed papers and photographs she'd retrieved from a safety deposit box her father had maintained until his death. The box key had arrived anonymously at her office the day after Vincent Gray's second arrest, along with a cryptic note: "The truth about Judge Stone's fall from grace."

For fifteen years, she had believed the narrative: her father, the respected federal judge, had accepted bribes to dismiss cases against organized crime. The evidence had been damning—offshore accounts, recorded conversations, witness testimonies. His suicide before the indictment came down had been the final confirmation of guilt in the public eye.

But the contents of the safety deposit box told a different story. Meticulous records her father had kept, showing how the evidence against him had been fabricated piece by piece. Names of those who had framed him, all connected to a shadowy organization her father had been investigating from the bench.

And at the center of it all, a name that made her blood run cold: Assistant Director Marcus Vega, the FBI's Chicago bureau chief—and Ryan Hawk's direct superior.

The same man who had authorized their joint operation against Vincent Gray.

A knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. Three sharp raps—Hawk's signature. She had been expecting him; they had agreed to meet to discuss Gray's upcoming prosecution.

Aveline gathered the papers quickly, sliding them into a folder before moving to the door. Through the peephole, she could see Hawk standing in the hallway, rainwater still dripping from his coat.

She opened the door, maintaining a composed expression despite the turmoil inside her. "You're early."

"Traffic was light," he replied, stepping inside when she moved aside. His eyes, sharp as always, immediately noted the folder in her hand. "New evidence?"

"Just reviewing some old case files," she lied smoothly, setting the folder on a side table. "Coffee?"

"Please."

As she moved to the kitchen, Aveline felt Hawk's gaze following her, assessing. In the week since the raid on the Thornfield Club, their professional relationship had settled into something resembling mutual respect, perhaps even trust. The thought made her chest tighten with what felt uncomfortably like betrayal.

"Gray's lawyers are pushing for a plea deal," Hawk said, removing his wet coat and hanging it by the door. "Offering to name his associates in exchange for reduced charges."

Aveline kept her back to him as she prepared the coffee, using the mundane task to gather her thoughts. "Including whoever helped him escape federal custody the first time?"

"That's the implication." Hawk's voice had moved closer. He was now standing at the kitchen island, close enough that she could smell the rain on him. "The corruption goes higher than we initially thought."

"How high?" she asked, turning to face him with coffee mugs in hand.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, Aveline thought she saw something flicker in his—a hesitation, perhaps even a warning.

"All the way to the Justice Department, potentially," he said carefully. "We're proceeding with extreme caution. Limited information sharing, need-to-know basis only."

She handed him a mug, their fingers brushing in the exchange. "And who decides who needs to know?"

"Assistant Director Vega is personally overseeing the case now." Hawk took a sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim of the mug. "He's implementing compartmentalized protocols."

Aveline maintained her neutral expression, though her heart rate accelerated. "Interesting timing for him to take a personal interest."

"He's been following it from the beginning," Hawk replied. "Gray's operation has been on the Bureau's radar for years."

The casual mention of Vega's long-standing awareness sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the rain-cooled air. If Vega had known about Gray for years without acting, it suggested something far more sinister than mere bureaucratic caution.

"You trust him?" she asked, the question seemingly innocent.

Hawk's pause was almost imperceptible. "He's my superior officer."

Not a yes.

Aveline moved to the living room, needing distance to think. Hawk followed, his footsteps silent on the hardwood floor.

"What's really going on, Stone?" he asked, setting his mug down on the coffee table. "You didn't ask me here to discuss Gray's plea deal."

She considered her options, weighing risks against necessity. If Vega was corrupt, how far did the corruption extend? Could she trust Hawk, or was he complicit?

The decision was made for her when Hawk's gaze drifted to the side table where she'd placed the folder. With a swift movement that caught her off guard, he picked it up.

"Don't," she warned, but it was too late.

Hawk opened the folder, his expression shifting from curiosity to confusion to something darker as he scanned the contents. "This is about Judge Stone's corruption case. Your father."

"My father was framed," Aveline said, her voice steady despite the emotion threatening to break through. "Those documents prove it."

Hawk continued reading, his brow furrowing deeper with each page. When he reached the final document—a memo with Vega's signature authorizing the fabrication of evidence—he went completely still.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

"Does it matter? It's authentic." She moved closer, challenging him with her proximity. "Your boss destroyed my father to protect a criminal enterprise. The same enterprise that's behind Gray's organ trafficking operation."

Hawk looked up from the documents, his expression unreadable. "If this is real, why bring it to me? I report directly to Vega."

"Because I needed to see your reaction," Aveline admitted. "To know if you're part of it."

The accusation hung between them, heavy as the storm clouds outside. Hawk's jaw tightened, a muscle working beneath the skin.

"You still don't trust me," he said, the words more statement than question.

"I can't afford to trust anyone," she countered. "Not when the people who killed my father are still in power."

Lightning flashed outside, briefly illuminating the room in harsh white light. In that instant, Aveline caught something in Hawk's eyes—not anger at her accusation, but a deeper, more personal pain.

"I've suspected Vega for months," he said finally, his voice low. "Small inconsistencies in operations, cases that were shut down prematurely, suspects who disappeared from custody. Nothing I could prove."

Hope and suspicion warred within her. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"For the same reason you didn't trust me with this." He gestured to the folder. "In a corrupted system, survival depends on keeping your doubts to yourself."

Thunder rumbled, closer now, the storm intensifying outside.

"What happens now?" Aveline asked, watching him carefully.

Hawk closed the folder, his decision apparently made. "We take this to Internal Affairs, along with my own evidence. Open an investigation into Vega."

"And if he's as connected as I think he is? If he has people in Internal Affairs too?"

"Then we find another way." Hawk's certainty was unwavering. "But we do it by the book first."

Aveline shook her head, frustration building. "The 'book' is written by the same people who framed my father. I'm not risking these documents disappearing into some bureaucratic black hole."

"What's your alternative? Vigilante justice?" Hawk challenged, stepping closer. "That's not who you are, Stone. You believe in the system, even when it fails."

"I believe in justice," she corrected, not backing down from his proximity. "Sometimes that means working outside a broken system."

Their faces were inches apart now, the tension between them shifting into something electric and dangerous.

"I'm taking these to the U.S. Attorney tomorrow," Aveline said, reaching for the folder in his hands. "Someone outside Vega's influence."

Hawk didn't release the documents. "The U.S. Attorney reports to the same Justice Department that Vega has connections in. You'll be exposing yourself for nothing."

"That's my risk to take."

"Not alone, it isn't." His grip on the folder tightened. "Not anymore."

Before she could respond, Hawk's phone rang. He checked the screen, his expression darkening.

"It's Vega," he said, showing her the caller ID.

Aveline felt a surge of cold fear. The timing couldn't be coincidence.

Hawk answered, putting the call on speaker. "Hawk."

"Agent Hawk." Vega's voice was smooth, professional. "I need you at the office immediately. We've had a development in the Gray case."

"I'm in the middle of something, sir. Can it wait until morning?"

"I'm afraid not." There was a pause, weighted with unspoken meaning. "And please inform Ms. Stone that her presence is requested as well."

Aveline froze, her eyes meeting Hawk's in shared alarm.

"Ms. Stone?" Hawk kept his voice neutral. "I'm not with her at the moment, sir."

"Don't insult my intelligence, Agent." Vega's tone hardened. "Your vehicle has been parked outside her building for the past forty minutes. My office. One hour. Both of you."

The call ended, leaving them in silence broken only by the sound of rain against the windows.

"He's watching us," Aveline said, the implications unfolding rapidly in her mind. "He knows."

Hawk was already moving, checking the windows, then the door. "We need to leave. Now."

"And go where? If he's tracking your car—"

"Not my car." Hawk pulled out his phone, typing rapidly. "I'm calling in a favor. Unmarked vehicle, no GPS. We'll take the service elevator down to the garage."

Aveline gathered the documents, sliding them into a waterproof messenger bag. "You realize we're effectively running from the FBI now."

"No," Hawk corrected, his expression grim. "We're running from Vega. There's a difference."

As they prepared to leave, Hawk suddenly stilled, his attention caught by something outside the window. Aveline followed his gaze to the street below, where two black SUVs had pulled up in front of her building.

"That's not an hour," she observed, her voice steady despite the adrenaline now coursing through her system. "He never intended to wait."

"Change of plans," Hawk said, drawing his weapon and checking it with practiced efficiency. "We go up, not down. There's roof access to the adjacent building."

They moved quickly, gathering only essentials. As they reached her apartment door, Hawk paused, listening. The faint sound of footsteps on the stairwell confirmed their fears—Vega's men were already inside, taking the stairs in case they tried to avoid the elevator.

"Fire escape," Aveline decided, moving toward the window that accessed the metal stairway outside. The rain had intensified into a downpour, lightning splitting the sky at irregular intervals.

They had just reached the window when the first impact came against her apartment door—someone trying to force entry.

"Go," Hawk urged, helping her through the window onto the fire escape. The metal was slick with rain, treacherous in the darkness.

They descended as quickly as safety allowed, the sound of breaking wood above them indicating her apartment door had given way. Aveline looked up to see figures at her window, preparing to follow.

"They're coming," she warned as they reached the alley below.

Hawk took her hand, pulling her into a run through the narrow passage between buildings. The rain was merciless, soaking them within seconds, reducing visibility to mere feet.

They emerged onto a side street, momentarily disoriented in the downpour. Hawk pulled her into the shadow of a doorway, both of them breathing hard from the exertion and adrenaline.

"We need to split up," he said, water streaming down his face. "They'll be expecting us to stay together."

"No," Aveline refused immediately. "We have a better chance together."

"They're looking for a pair," Hawk insisted. "Two people are easier to spot than one."

Lightning illuminated his features, revealing a determination that matched her own. In that moment, Aveline realized that despite everything, she didn't want to leave his side—not because she needed his protection, but because something fundamental had shifted between them.

"I still have the evidence," she said, touching the messenger bag secured across her body. "I'm the primary target."

"Which is why you need to disappear while I create a diversion." Hawk checked his weapon again, a decision clearly made in his mind. "I know people who can help you—people outside the Bureau, outside Vega's reach."

"And what happens to you?" The question emerged more vulnerable than she intended.

Hawk's expression softened momentarily. "I'll be fine. Vega still thinks I'm just following orders, investigating Gray. He doesn't know what we've found."

"He's not a fool, Hawk. The moment you don't bring me in, he'll know you've chosen sides."

Their eyes locked, the unspoken question hanging between them: Which side had he chosen?

The sound of approaching vehicles broke the moment. Headlights swept the street as another black SUV turned the corner, moving slowly through the rain-drenched night.

"Go," Hawk urged, pushing her deeper into the shadows. "Head west three blocks, then north. There's a 24-hour diner called Lou's. Ask for Manny, tell him I sent you. He'll get you somewhere safe."

Aveline didn't move. "And you? Where will you go?"

"To face Vega," he said simply. "Buy you time."

"That's suicide," she protested. "If he suspects you know about his connection to my father's case—"

"It's the only way," Hawk cut her off. "One of us needs to stay in play, maintain access to Bureau resources. The other needs to protect the evidence."

The SUV was drawing closer, its headlights cutting through the rain like searchlights.

"I don't trust easily, Hawk," Aveline said, the admission costing her more than she wanted to acknowledge. "But I need to know I can trust you now. Completely."

Something shifted in his expression—a decision made, a line crossed.

"You want proof?" he asked, his voice low and intense. "Here it is."

Before she could respond, Hawk raised his service weapon, pressed it against his own left shoulder, and pulled the trigger.

The sound was partially muffled by the storm, but the flash and Hawk's barely suppressed grunt of pain were unmistakable. Blood immediately began to spread across his shirt, mixing with rainwater.

"What the hell—" Aveline started, moving toward him in alarm.

Hawk pressed the gun into her hand, his blood smearing the grip. "Now you have a reason to run, and I have a reason to have lost you. Self-defense. You shot an FBI agent and escaped."

"You're insane," she whispered, staring at the weapon now in her possession.

"Maybe," he agreed, pain evident in his voice despite his attempt to control it. "But now you have no reason not to trust me. I've literally taken a bullet to prove it."

The SUV had stopped at the end of the street. Doors opened, figures emerging into the rain.

"Go," Hawk insisted, leaning against the wall for support. "I'll tell them you went east. It should buy you at least an hour."

Aveline hesitated, torn between the need to flee with the evidence and the unexpected urge to stay with him, to ensure he survived his self-inflicted wound.

"This doesn't make us even," she said finally, securing the gun in her waistband.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips despite the pain. "Wasn't trying to be even. Just trying to be trusted."

On impulse, Aveline leaned forward and pressed her lips to his—brief, fierce, and filled with everything they hadn't said. When she pulled back, the surprise in his eyes gave way to something deeper, more complex.

"Don't die," she ordered, already backing away into the shadows.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied, sliding down the wall to a sitting position, preparing for his performance as the wounded agent.

Aveline turned and ran into the downpour, the taste of him still on her lips, his blood on her hands, and his gun at her waist—physical manifestations of the trust he had literally shot into existence between them.

Behind her, she heard Hawk's voice calling out to the approaching agents: "Officer down! She went east! Armed and dangerous!"

As she disappeared into the storm-drenched night, Aveline realized that for the first time since her father's death, she was no longer fighting alone. Whatever came next—whether justice or vengeance—she and Hawk now stood on the same side of an invisible line.

And for reasons she wasn't ready to examine, that knowledge felt more significant than any evidence in her possession.