[Immunity] David Kay - Ch18: HondoConfrontsDeveraux

Instructions

Agent Devereaux didn't look like a man expecting a fight. He stood outside the federal building just after sunrise, tie crooked, coffee in hand, posture relaxed as if he'd had a full night's sleep. As if the last forty-eight hours hadn't ended with a woman dead, three kids motherless, and one of the best cops Hondo had ever known forced to put a bullet in the man responsible. The moment Hondo stepped out of his truck, Street muttered under his breath, "Oh boy." Tan's eyes widened. "You going in alone?" Hondo didn't answer. He didn't need to. He shut the truck door, squared his shoulders, and walked toward Devereaux with the slow, controlled gait of a man holding back a storm. Devereaux looked up, surprised but not nervous. That irritated Hondo even more. "Sergeant Harrelson," Devereaux greeted, adjusting his tie. "I was actually meaning to call you. There are some questions about—" "We're not doing this here." Hondo's voice was quiet. Dangerous. "Get your ass around back." The agent hesitated. The look Hondo gave him removed all doubt. They stepped into the alley behind the building—empty, shadowed, cold. The moment they were alone, Hondo got right in his space. "You gave a murderer immunity." Devereaux blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness. "It was part of a deal. He had intel on—" "On what?" Hondo cut him off. "What could possibly matter more than protecting an innocent family?" Devereaux's jaw tightened. "I understand this is emotional for you—" "No." Hondo stepped closer, eyes burning. "Emotional is what Deacon's going through right now. Emotional is explaining to his kids why their mother isn't coming home. What I'm feeling?" His jaw clenched. "This is fury." Devereaux took a measured breath. "Look, Harrelson, the FBI operates on a broader scale. We had reason to believe Murido could lead us to—" "You gambled," Hondo snapped. "And you gambled with the lives of people who mean something to me. To my team. To Los Angeles." For the first time, Devereaux's confidence slipped. His eyes darted to the ground, just for a heartbeat. Hondo pressed in. "That man ambushed a cop's family. Shot a mother. Left three kids traumatized. And your biggest worry was 'intel'?" "It was a calculated risk," Devereaux said weakly. "You calculated wrong." Silence. Heavy. Sharp. Devereaux swallowed hard. "I know you're angry—" "You don't know a damn thing," Hondo said. "Because if you did, you would've shown up at the funeral yesterday. You would've looked Deacon in the eye. You would've stood there and taken responsibility for playing politics with his wife's life." Devereaux flinched, just slightly. Hondo wasn't done. "You think Deacon's the kind of man who kills out of revenge?" he asked. "You think he's reckless? No. He's disciplined. He's the best of us. And you pushed him into a corner where the only thing left was survival." Devereaux's voice went thin. "...the Bureau will be reviewing the shooting." "Good." Hondo folded his arms. "Because I'll be in that room. And I'll make damn sure the record shows that everything that happened... happened because you stood in our way." The agent exhaled shakily. "I didn't mean for any of this—" "Intent doesn't matter," Hondo said. "Impact does." Another long silence settled. Devereaux looked smaller now. Like a man who finally understood the weight of the consequences he'd set in motion. "What happens next?" the agent asked quietly. Hondo leaned in close. "You stay away from Deacon Campbell," he said. "You don't question him alone. You don't approach his family. You don't breathe in his direction unless I'm standing right beside you." Devereaux nodded, throat bobbing. "And one more thing." Hondo's voice dropped to a low growl. "You will not—ever—use my team as negotiating chips again. You pull anything like that, and you'll find out exactly how loud I can make noise in this city." Devereaux didn't argue. He didn't move. He just whispered, "Understood." Hondo stepped back, letting the tension slowly bleed out of the air. Then he turned to walk away. "Harrelson," Devereaux called after him, voice unsteady. "For what it's worth... I really am sorry." Hondo didn't turn around. "Not as sorry as Deacon," he said. "Not even close." And with that, he walked back to his truck—back to his team—back to a man who had lost everything and still had to face what came next.