Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Feeling ready to take this bastard down, my team moves with precision, each one of them knowing their role and exactly what’s expected. They’ve never let me down and are constantly exceeding those high expectations. Their training is like no other, pushing the boundaries of what should be possible.
They’re fucking machines and nothing less than my brothers and sisters. Each one of them have saved my ass at some point or another, just as I’ve done the same for them, but that’s how a well-oiled team is supposed to operate, especially in SWAT. There’s no room for mistakes.
My team rushes forward in a single-file line, a hand on the shoulder of the officer in front, heading straight for our position as Team B veers to the left, moving toward the front of the store. Team C follows behind, ready to create a perimeter and jump in where needed.
Reaching our position, Anders and Hunter create a brace, and I waste no time stepping up onto their forearms. They lift me toward the ceiling of the mall, and I remove the large ceiling plate that conceals the ventilation system, sliding it aside before gripping the ledge and hauling myself up.
One by one, my team follows until the five of us are situated in the ceiling, crawling through the dusty cavity until we have a bird’s-eye view into the store below, getting a look at our suspect and the well-being of the hostages for the first time.
A young man, maybe in his early twenties, paces the store, and it’s clear by the new addition of Diesel’s team hovering on the other side of the doors that he’s suddenly not feeling so brave. He’s clutching a blade in his hand, and while I can’t make out any other weapons, I’m not able to rule them out.
From my vantage point above, I can make out at least seven hostages. All women, two minors, but there could be more in the dressing room or hidden behind the counter. Until I get down on the ground and survey the store properly, I won’t truly know the extent of this situation.
“BACK OFF,” the suspect screams through the store, his words directed at my men outside, and judging by his jerky movements, erratic behavior, and too wide stare, I have to assume he’s either high on coke or meth.
“I just want to talk, man,” Diesel says in a calming tone. In this situation, he’s the voice of reason, but truth be told, there’s nothing Diesel would want to do less than to talk it out. He’s a broody motherfucker who would prefer to race in, guns blazing and save the hostages. Unfortunately for him, hostage negotiations are part of the job, and he’s actually pretty fucking great at it. He could sweet-talk anyone into believing that life in maximum security prison is nothing but a summer vacation.
The suspect shakes his head, looking frantic, and in a rush of panic, he reaches for the closest hostage. He violently yanks a young woman into him, locking his arm around her body and holding his blade to the base of her throat. She whimpers in fear as another woman on the ground screams in horror. “I SAID BACK OFF,” the man screams, his voice cracking and making it clear he’s got no fucking idea what he’s doing. He’s desperate, and that makes him dangerous.
A cool, calm, and collected suspect generally knows what they want and can be reasoned with, but men like this have no idea what their end game is. They’re motivated by emotion and will act out the moment they feel just the slightest pressure.
With the situation heating up, I hold my hand up by my face and turn back to the rest of my team before indicating for them to keep going. I’m not about to lose anybody on my watch, and certainly not because of this asshole.
Quickly making our way through the ventilation system, we come to the store’s changing rooms, and I get straight to work removing the large ceiling tile and silently sliding it aside. Someone gasps from down below, and I peer through the hole, finding three more hostages, each of them cowering in fear, hidden well in the changing stalls.
They appear to be a group of friends, older teens if I had to guess, and I hold my finger to my lips, willing them to remain silent as I grip the edge of the ceiling cavity and begin lowering myself into the store.
I drop the rest of the way, landing without a sound before promptly moving to the entrance of the changing rooms and getting a view of the store beyond. One by one, my men fall into formation behind me, and as Diesel continues his hostage negotiations like the fucking pro that he is, my team swiftly moves onto the main floor of the store, not a single one of us making a sound.