“Chapter 5: The Neon Reckoning
Cully tapped a command on the tablet.
In the hallway outside, the monitors that usually showed “”Wash Your Hands”” posters flickered. Suddenly, Miller’s face appeared. The audio from the alleyway—clear, crisp, and damning—echoed through the corridors.
“Make sure the next shipment gets through the North Side,” Miller’s voice boomed. “I don’t want any interference from the boys in blue.”
In the nurses’ station, three floors up, the night shift stopped. In the waiting room, a dozen people looked up from their phones.
Inside the breakroom, Miller’s face went from red to a sickly, pale grey. He lunged for the tablet, but Cully stepped back, his movement fluid and practiced.
“It’s already on the cloud, Miller. I’ve sent it to the District Attorney, Internal Affairs, and the local news. By the time you get to your car, you’re going to be the most famous man in Portland.”
Miller’s hand went to his gun. He drew it, the barrel trembling as he pointed it at Cully’s chest.
“Shut it off,” Miller roared. “Shut it off or I’ll kill you!”
Beth screamed, but Cully didn’t blink. He looked down at the barrel of the gun, then back at Miller.
“Do it,” Cully said. “Kill a man in a hospital breakroom while his face is on every screen in the building. See how that works out for your defense.”
Miller looked at the door. Through the glass, he could see people gathered in the hallway, staring at the monitors. He could see his own corruption playing on a loop.
His hand shook. The gun felt heavy, a useless piece of iron. He looked at Beth, then at Cully. The predator was gone. All that was left was a small, scared man who realized the world had just moved on without him.
Miller dropped the gun. It hit the floor with a heavy thud. He sank into a chair, his head in his hands.
Cully didn’t feel the rush of victory he expected. He just felt tired. He looked at Beth, who was leaning against the wall, tears streaming down her face.
“It’s over,” Cully said.
Chapter 6: The Aftermath
The sirens arrived ten minutes later. Not for a pickup, but for an arrest. The Internal Affairs officers didn’t even look at Cully; they were too focused on the man in the blue uniform who sat silently as they cuffed him.
Cully stood in the hospital parking lot, the rain finally letting up. The sun was a pale suggestion on the horizon, turning the clouds a bruised purple.
Beth walked out a few minutes later. She looked exhausted, but the weight was gone from her shoulders. She walked over to Cully’s bike.
“Why did you do it?” she asked. “You could have just stayed in the shadows. You put your club at risk. You put yourself at risk.”
Cully reached into his shirt and pulled out the dog tags. He looked at Danny’s name engraved in the metal.
“I wasn’t there when he needed me,” Cully said. “I was high, I was stupid, and I was selfish. I couldn’t save him. But I could make sure the man who profited from his death didn’t get to take anyone else down.”
Beth reached out and touched his hand. “He’d be proud of you.”
“Maybe,” Cully said. He put the tags back under his shirt. “But pride doesn’t bring him back.”
He climbed onto his bike and kicked it to life. The whine of the engine cut through the quiet morning air.
“What happens to you now?” Beth asked.
“I go back to being a ghost,” Cully said. “There are a lot of servers in this city, Beth. And a lot of people who think they’re invisible.”
He pulled away, the neon lights of the hospital fading in his rearview mirror. He felt the cold air on his face and the steady hum of the machine beneath him. For the first time in three months, the blue light in his head was gone.
He wasn’t a hero. He was a biker who knew how to hack. But as he rode into the Portland dawn, Cully realized that sometimes, the only way to find justice is to step out of the shadows and let the world see the truth—even if it burns everything down.
The dog tags were still cold, but they didn’t feel as heavy as they had before. It was a start.”
