Chapter 264
[ 472 words ]
Chapter 264:
Before they could even drop their weapons, the doors of the other two armored SUVs flew open.
Twelve operators from Task Force Orion poured out. They wore black balaclavas and carried suppressed assault rifles.
There were no warnings. There were no arrests.
The operators moved with terrifying, silent efficiency. They swung the heavy polymer stocks of their rifles like hammers.
The dull, sickening sound of cracking bone filled the street.
Within ten seconds, all seven gang members were bleeding on the asphalt, their hands bound tight with black plastic zip-ties.
Jarrod did not look at the slaughter.
He stood perfectly still in the center of the chaos. His left hand remained clamped on the back of Caroline’s head, holding her flush against his chest. His right arm hung motionless at his side.
ѕ𝘁𝗼𝘳𝗂еѕ 𝗒оu 𝘄o𝗇’𝘵 p𝘶𝗍 𝖽ow𝗻 𝗈𝗻 𝗀аlո𝗈𝗏е𝗹ѕ.𝗰𝗈m
Alston picked himself up from the pavement. He rubbed his bruised shoulder, wincing. He looked at Jarrod and made a quick hand signal, a silent confirmation that he was friendly and needed extraction. Two operators stepped forward and swiftly escorted him toward one of the armored SUVs to handle the police cover-up.
Beatrice Hendon had fainted against the brick wall. Two operators grabbed her under the arms and dragged her toward a medical transport van to administer a memory-wiping sedative.
When the street was finally clear of threats, Jarrod moved.
He didn’t let Caroline go. He grabbed her left shoulder with his left hand, his thick fingers digging painfully into her collarbone. He shoved her backward, holding her at arm’s length. His right arm remained rigid at his side, the field splint still bracing it motionless.
His chest heaved violently. His black eyes burned with a mixture of absolute terror and volcanic rage.
“What did I order you to do before I left?” Jarrod rasped, his voice grinding like broken glass.
Caroline winced at the pain in her shoulder.
She looked up at his blood-smeared face. Her own adrenaline was still spiking. The submissive act she’d played for Alston vanished. Her stubborn, combative core ignited.
She glared right back at him.
“You ordered me,” Caroline spat, her voice dripping with ice. “But I am not your soldier, Jarrod. And I am not your prisoner!”
Jarrod let out a dark, terrifying laugh.
He pointed a shaking finger at the blood pooling on the asphalt where Rocco had been standing.
“If I was one minute slower,” Jarrod roared, the veins in his neck bulging, “you would be a corpse in a dumpster right now!”
He took a step forward, his massive frame towering over her.
“You think that because of your little tactical training, you can survive a real gang shootout in the D.C. underworld?” Jarrod demanded, his voice thick with furious disbelief.
The insult hit Caroline’s pride like a physical strike.
She was a highly trained operative. She had dismantled those men flawlessly. She didn’t need him to save her.
She violently slapped his left hand off her shoulder.
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