Donald's heart sank as he watched them untie his sister and brother, dragging them toward the back exit. He tried to crawl after them, but his body refused to obey.
"L-leave them…" he choked out, his voice barely a whisper.
The leader glanced back at him, a sneer on his face. "Next ti, don't pick a fight you can't win."
With that, they disappeared into the night, leaving the boy alone in the cold, empty warehouse.
Rain continued to pour through the broken roof, mingling with the blood that seeped from his wounds. He lay there for what felt like hours, his mind replaying the fight over and over.
Eventually, he forced himself to move, every inch of his body screaming in protest. He stumbled to his feet, his vision darkening at the edges. Sohow, he managed to stagger out of the warehouse and into the rain-soaked streets.
The sirens were closer now, but he couldn't risk being caught. If the police took him in, he'd lose any chance of saving his siblings.
Clutching his side, he limped into the shadows, disappearing into the night like a wounded animal.
His heart burned with guilt and anger, the weight of his failure pressing down on him like a crushing tide. But even as despair threatened to consu him, one thought kept him going.
"I'll find them. No matter what it takes, I'll find them. And I will kill all of you!"
****
The sound of his boots hitting the cold, hard ground echoed faintly in the silence of the abandoned facility. Lt. Callen Rourke, a seasoned special ops soldier, moved with precision, his rifle firmly in his grasp.
His night-vision goggles cast an eerie green glow over his field of view, painting the crumbling walls and debris-strewn floors in shades of shadowy green.
He crouched low behind a tal crate, his heart beating in a steady rhythm. The mission was simple on paper: extract a high-value target being held hostage deep within this isolated industrial complex.
But Callen knew better than to trust simplicity in the field. Things had a habit of going sideways, especially in places like this.
The comms in his earpiece crackled to life.
"Bravo One, status report," ca the voice of his handler, steady and professional.
"Bravo One here," Callen whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm inside. Approaching the designated sector. No hostiles spotted yet."
"Copy that. Be advised, we've lost contact with Alpha Team. Proceed with extre caution."
A sinking feeling settled in Callen's gut, but he shoved it aside. There was no room for hesitation, not now.
He moved deeper into the facility, his senses on high alert. The faint hum of electricity buzzed in the air, and the occasional drip of water echoed through the hollow corridors. Every step felt like a gamble, the tension building with every ter he covered.
As he rounded a corner, his goggles picked up movent—a faint blur darting across his peripheral vision. He froze, his finger hovering over the trigger. But when he scanned the area again, there was nothing.
"Sothing's off," he muttered under his breath.
He continued forward, his grip on the rifle tightening. He reached a large steel door marked with faded yellow letters. This was it—the room where the target was supposedly held.
Callen leaned against the wall beside the door, steadying his breathing. With a flick of his wrist, he switched his goggles to thermal mode. Through the heavy tal, he could see two heat signatures inside—one seated and still, the other pacing back and forth.
He readied a flashbang. With one swift motion, he kicked the door open and tossed the grenade inside.
The deafening bang and blinding light filled the room, followed by shouts of confusion. Callen surged in, his rifle trained on the nearest figure.
"Drop your weapon!" he barked.
The pacing figure, a man clad in tactical gear, fumbled with his weapon, clearly disoriented.
Callen didn't hesitate—he fired a precise shot, the silenced rifle spitting death as the man crumpled to the floor.
The seated figure, a young woman with tear-streaked cheeks and a gag in her mouth, flinched at the gunfire. Callen moved to her quickly, cutting her restraints.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his tone firm but not unkind.
She nodded frantically, her wide eyes filled with fear.
"Stay close to ," he ordered, helping her to her feet.
But as they moved toward the exit, a sound stopped Callen in his tracks—a faint beeping noise. His blood ran cold.
He scanned the room, his gaze landing on a blinking red light hidden beneath the table. A bomb.
"Damn it," he hissed.
He grabbed the woman's arm, pulling her toward the door.
"Run!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence.
They barely made it out of the room when the explosion tore through the air, the force of the blast throwing them both to the ground. Callen's ears rang as he struggled to his feet, his vision swimming.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, shaking the woman's shoulder.
She coughed, her face pale.
"I… I'm okay."
Before he could respond, his earpiece crackled again, but this ti, the voice was frantic.
"Bravo One, we've got multiple heat signatures converging on your location. You need to move, now!"
Callen cursed under his breath, pulling the woman to her feet. They stumbled through the corridors, the sound of approaching footsteps growing louder.
Suddenly, a burst of gunfire erupted behind them. Callen spun around, firing back as he shoved the woman behind cover.
"Stay down!" he ordered, his voice sharp.
The attackers ca in waves, their dark silhouettes blending with shadow around him. Callen picked them off one by one, his movents as fast and as deadly, as possible. But they just kept coming, relentless in their assault.
A sharp pain tore through his side, and he staggered back, clutching his ribs. His gloved hand ca away slick with blood.
"Damn it," he muttered, gritting his teeth.
He knew he couldn't keep this up much longer. His vision blurred, and his movents grew sluggish. But the thought of leaving the woman behind kept him going.
"Go!" he shouted, pushing her toward the exit. "Get out of here!"
"No!" she cried, tears streaming down her face.
"Just go!" he roared, his voice filled with desperation.
The woman hesitated, her expression torn, but she eventually turned and ran.
Reviews
All reviews (0)