Chapter 8 - The Hostage Exchange
I stared at the terrified face of the young girl on the monitor, realizing she had my exact same green eyes.
"Where are you holding her, Brandon?" I demanded, my voice dangerously calm and composed.
"The old abandoned shipyard down by the docks," he answered with a sickeningly sweet tone.
"Come alone, unarmed, and bring the old man with you, or she dies in exactly sixty minutes."
The video feed abruptly cut to static, leaving the dark cabin in a heavy, suffocating silence.
"You cannot possibly trust him, Commander," Whitmore argued, gripping his assault rifle tightly. "It is an obvious tactical ambush."
"I know it is an ambush, but I am not leaving an innocent girl to die for my existence," I replied, loading a fresh magazine into my pistol.
I formulated a highly dangerous strategy, instructing Whitmore to take a sniper position on the cranes above the designated shipyard.
I drove a stolen civilian vehicle toward the freezing docks, the bitter ocean wind howling through the broken windows.
When I arrived at the massive, rusted warehouse, Brandon was waiting confidently under a single spotlight.
Dozens of armed mercenaries stood heavily in the shadows, aiming their weapons directly at my chest.
The young girl was kneeling on the wet concrete, sobbing quietly with a gun pressed firmly against the back of her head.
"Where is the old man?" Brandon barked, his smile fading when he realized I was completely alone.
"He died from his injuries an hour ago," I lied effortlessly, keeping my hands visible to the snipers in the dark.
Brandon cursed violently in frustration, pacing back and forth across the wet floor.
"Then you are absolutely useless to me now, Claire," he sneered, raising his own pistol to shoot me.
Before he could even pull the trigger, a massive explosion shattered the skylight above us.
Whitmore had completely rigged the upper catwalks with C4 explosives, raining concrete and fire down onto the mercenaries.
In the chaotic confusion, I sprinted forward, diving into a tactical roll and drawing my hidden combat knife.
I slashed the throat of the guard holding my sister, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her behind a heavy steel shipping container.
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"Stay down and do not move," I ordered the trembling girl, turning back to face a furious Brandon.
He emerged from the thick smoke, aiming an assault rifle directly at my head, but before he could fire, a gunshot rang out and Brandon collapsed with a bullet hole in his chest.
