Chapter 9: The Ambush at Midnight
The footsteps outside the door were heavy, deliberate, and unmistakably tactical. Heavy boots striking the linoleum corridor, followed by the muffled metallic click of weapons being readied.
"They're here," Elena whispered, her face draining of all color as she slammed the laptop shut and grabbed the flash drive. "How did they track us so fast?"
"The Wi-Fi hotspot," Nikolai said coldly, his hand sliding inside his wool coat to grip something heavy and metallic. "They traced the signal the moment you initiated the server mirror."
Miller’s training kicked in instantly, overriding the shock and betrayal. Years of tactical drills took over his body. He moved with swift, silent efficiency, sweeping the kitchen counter for anything that could be used as a makeshift weapon, cursing himself for leaving his service weapon locked in the precinct armory.
"There's a service stairwell at the end of the hall," Miller hissed, keeping his voice low as he gestured toward the rear exit of the apartment. "It drops down into the maintenance sub-level beneath the parking garage. Move!"
Before Elena could take two steps toward the hallway, a deafening crash echoed through the apartment. The deadbolts splintered, the wooden door bursting inward under the force of a battering ram, sending shards of painted wood flying across the living room floor.
"Police! Nobody move!" shouted a voice from the doorway, distorted by tactical gas masks.
Three figures in full black tactical gear, armed with submachine guns and wearing dark helmets, poured into the narrow living room. They weren't standard patrol officers; their gear lacked department insignias, and their movements were too precise, too practiced for ordinary cops. They were a black-ops wet-work squad hired to sanitize the loose ends.
"Get down!" Miller roared, lunging forward and tackling Elena behind the heavy oak kitchen island just as a burst of suppressed gunfire shattered the upper cabinets, showering them in splintered wood and white plaster dust.
Rex didn't hesitate. With a ferocious snarl that sounded like rolling thunder, the German Shepherd leaped across the living room, launching himself directly at the lead tactical operative. The heavy-duty bite tore into the operative's armored forearm, sending his weapon clattering across the hardwood floor.
"Clear the jam! Take the dog!" shouted the second operative, raising his rifle barrel toward Rex.
"No!" Nikolai shouted. With blinding speed, Nikolai drew a heavy, suppressed pistol from his coat and fired twice. The muffled cracks echoed sharply in the small room. The second operative dropped instantly, a clean round piercing his tactical vest, while the third scrambled back toward the shattered doorway, firing wildly into the kitchen ceiling.
"Move, now!" Nikolai yelled over the gunfire, grabbing Elena by the arm and hauling her toward the rear maintenance door.
May you like
Miller scrambled up from behind the kitchen island, his heart hammering against his ribs like a sledgehammer. He whistled sharply. "Rex! Heel!"
The German Shepherd released the pinned operative with a final, vicious snap, turning instantly and bounding toward Miller with athletic grace. Together, the four of them burst through the rear service door into the concrete stairwell just as a fresh volley of bullets chewed through the drywall behind them.
