Chapter 2 - The Empty Fortress
The deafening explosion shook the very foundation of the police station.
Thick white smoke poured into the interrogation room, carrying the bitter scent of burning explosives.
Detective Carter drew his weapon and pushed me toward the floor.
"Stay down and protect your son," he yelled over the blaring security alarms.
I shielded Eli with my body and covered his ears to protect him from the terrifying noise.
Automatic gunfire erupted in the main lobby, tearing through the drywall and shattering the glass windows.
My instincts as a senior military officer completely took over my paralyzed mind.
I could not just hide under a desk and wait for heavily armed mercenaries to execute my family.
I grabbed a heavy tactical flashlight from the table and smashed the interrogation room window.
"We have to move right now," I told the detective as I lifted Eli into my arms.
Carter nodded and led the way through the shattered glass into the dark, chaotic hallway.
We moved silently toward the rear exit, avoiding the main corridor where the fighting was heaviest.
Suddenly, a massive man wearing advanced body armor stepped out from a side office and aimed his rifle at us.
Carter fired two shots, but the bullets bounced harmlessly off the attacker's reinforced chest plate.
The mercenary raised his weapon to return fire, giving me less than a second to react.
I threw the heavy metal flashlight directly at his face, striking him hard across the protective goggles.
He stumbled backward, and I closed the distance instantly to disarm him with a brutal combat strike.
I swept his legs out from under him and slammed his head against the concrete floor until he stopped moving.
Carter stared at me in absolute shock, clearly amazed by my lethal speed and precision.
"Get my son to your cruiser," I ordered the detective while picking up the dropped rifle.
I knelt down to search the unconscious attacker for any clues about who sent them.
I ripped the tactical vest open and pulled a leather wallet from his inner pocket.
I opened the wallet and shined a small penlight onto the identification card inside.
My blood ran completely cold as I read the name printed on the official military credential.
The ID card did not belong to the mercenary lying on the floor.
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The plastic card bore my exact name, my exact rank, and my own photograph.
Someone had officially declared me a rogue operative, and my own government was now hunting me.
