— The Calm Before the Storm
The Houndhouse buzzed with a restless energy that filled every corner. Officers shuffled papers, loaded magazines, and murmured in clusters by the grimy windows. Outside, the city's neon pulse hummed faintly, a stark contrast to the heavy silence building inside
In Draya's office, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Jean-Luc sat cool and unshaken, fingers curling around his phone as it buzzed with a final message from Scar Face: "It's done as instructed." The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile — slow, deliberate, and merciless.
He dropped the phone onto the polished desk with the weight of a verdict and looked up at Draya, eyes sharp as knives. "Now you can go," he said smoothly, voice low but slicing through the tension. "But tick… tick… tick…" His gaze bore into her like a countdown clock, the seconds slipping away.
Without waiting for a reply, Jean-Luc rose and strode toward the door, each step measured, commanding. The subtle shift in the room was instantaneous — the air seemed to tighten, the shadows growing heavier behind him.
Draya blinked, swallowed the lump forming in her throat, and watched him leave, the door clicking shut behind his retreating figure.
Outside the office, officers waited, their eyes flickering with impatience and worry. Whispers floated through the hallways — a ripple of unease as Jean-Luc emerged from the shadows, his presence undeniable. The room seemed to shrink around him; even the most hardened detectives straightened their backs and quieted their voices.
Murmurs ran like wildfire. "That's Jean-Luc," one officer whispered. "Don't mess with that guy."
"He's not here for pleasantries," another muttered.
Jean-Luc's gaze swept over the crowd like a hawk circling its prey — cold, calculating, filled with a promise of chaos yet to come. He didn't acknowledge the whispers. His every step radiated power and danger.
Then, like a sudden storm breaking, Draya burst from her office, her voice sharp and urgent. "All units, prepare for immediate deployment. Lily Estate is a disaster zone. We're going in — now!"
The station erupted. Radios crackled with orders, boots pounded on concrete, and engines roared to life. The Houndhouse transformed from a cage of tension to a warzone of purpose and adrenaline.
Officers loaded weapons with practiced efficiency, tightened their grips on badges and pistols, and sprinted toward waiting vehicles. The rescue operation was on.
But no one in the flurry of preparation knew the truth.
The criminals — Scar Face, Silas Moreau, and their cohorts — had long vanished into the night, slipping through the fingers of justice like smoke.
The bombs were ticking. The trap was set.
And the law was marching blindly into the belly of a ticking time bomb.
The clock was counting down.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
---
Tina was sweating like a guilty pastor in front of the police. Every step forward felt like she was dragging a whole dead cow, except this cow was Quinn — pale, weak, and bleeding.
"Come on, girl… walk! WALK!" she grunted, half-yanking Quinn forward like they were late for a bus they'd never catch. Quinn groaned, eyes fluttering, head lolling against Tina's shoulder.
Tina cursed under her breath. "God, if you get us out of this alive, I promise I will never follow people for gist again. Unless it's really juicy gist… but we can negotiate that later."
The ground shook faintly under distant gunfire, smoke still curling into the slowly brightening sky. Tina's heart was pounding so hard it was starting to feel like a separate, very angry person living inside her chest.
She turned her head to scan the chaos outside the shattered estate windows — no sight of those killers. Please let them be gone. Please, Lord, let them be gone.
That's when Quinn's knees buckled without warning.
The two of them crumpled, Tina barely catching Quinn before her head smacked the dirt. Panic hit Tina like a slap — raw, electric, dizzying. "No, no, no, no… you do not get to die on me, ma'am!"
She shook Quinn by the shoulders, her tears burning. "You're not allowed! You hear me? You better hold on! You're not some movie side character I lose in Act Two!"
Quinn's head lolled uselessly.
Something snapped inside Tina. She raised her hand and — SMACK — delivered a slap so sharp it echoed. "Bitch, you better not die on me!"
Quinn's eyelids fluttered. Her breathing hitched. That was enough for Tina — no time for guilt now. She grabbed a clean napkin from God-knows-where (bless whoever left it upstairs), tied it around Quinn's arm to stop the bleeding, then yanked her into a sitting position.
"Alright, mama, up we go, because if we stay here, we're either dying in fire or on the evening news — and I am not ready for either."
She was mid-struggle to haul Quinn toward the back gate when she froze.
Through the warped metal bars of the estate fence, she saw it — faint at first, just a pair of headlights slicing through the foggy, pale dawn. Her heart did a weird flip.
She blinked. Squinted. And then recognition slammed her like a truck.
"OH MY GOD — TRENT!"
Every bit of exhaustion fled her body. She half-dropped Quinn into a sitting slump against the fence, sprinted to the bars, and began waving her arms like a woman possessed.
"TRENT! HEY! IT'S ME! COME GET ME BEFORE WE DIE!"
Her voice cracked but she pushed harder, screaming over the dull ringing in her ears.
---
Trent – Inside the Car
Trent had been running on curiosity alone since he left his house. The "I love you" call, the mysterious meet-up spot — all of it was like a mosquito bite on his brain he couldn't stop scratching. But now, creeping toward the back gate of Lily Estate, something was off.
The air smelled faintly of smoke. The silence felt… wrong.
Then he heard it. Faint at first — a hoarse, desperate scream carried by the wind.
He slowed the car, rolled the window down, and squinted. And then…
"Tina?"
There she was, in the flesh, hair wild, clothes dirty, eyes wide like she'd been chased by wolves. Behind her, Quinn slumped against the fence like a broken doll.Shock gripped him for only a second before adrenaline shoved it aside.
He threw the door open, the car barely at a full stop, and bolted toward the fence. Gravel crunched under his boots, breath steaming in the chilly dawn air.
"TINA! WHAT THE HELL—"
"No time!" she yelled, her voice half-panicked, half-triumphant. "JUST GET OVER HERE!"
The Lily Estate sat in an eerie stillness, the kind of quiet that didn't feel like peace but like something holding its breath.
Draya stood outside the main gate, boots planted in the gravel, her jaw tight. The place should've been crawling with hostiles, screams, or at least the occasional gunshot… but it was just the cold dawn air and the faint hum of squad engines parked behind her.
"Move in," she ordered sharply, waving her arm forward. "Sweep every building. No gaps. No delays. Go!"
Her officers moved like a wave, boots crunching over broken glass, rifles raised, eyes darting to shadows. She scanned every balcony, every roof edge. Something was wrong — she could feel it in her gut.
Inside, the teams split up. Some moved toward the burnt-out stables, others pushed up the main steps to the manor. The house was torn apart — overturned chairs, walls scorched, the smell of petrol heavy in the air.
One officer crouched by a collapsed wall, his flashlight beam bouncing off splintered wood. That's when he heard it.
Tick… tick… tick…
At first, he thought it was his own gear. Then his eyes followed the sound to a small black device wedged between debris — the blinking red light pulsing like a heartbeat.
His blood ran cold. "BOMBBBB!!!"
The first blast went off before his voice even finished echoing.
It was like the ground itself had been punched. A deafening roar, a wall of heat, splinters and metal flying in every direction. The shockwave ripped through the hallway, slamming men into walls.
Before anyone could process, a second explosion went off deeper in the estate — then another. The bombs were everywhere, timed in a sick chain reaction.
Outside the gates, Draya's eyes widened as the main building erupted in a column of fire. "RETREAT! GET OUT OF THERE!" she screamed, but her voice was swallowed by the chaos.
Officers who made it out dove behind cars, the force of the blasts rattling the vehicles and sending glass raining down. Smoke churned upward, thick and black, the flames clawing toward the sky.
---
Back Gate – Tina and Trent
Tina was still waving her arms like she was trying to flag down a plane. "TRENNTTT! OVER HERE! HURRY UP BEFORE I—"
The ground rumbled.
She froze for a second, then looked over her shoulder. Far behind her, a house folded in on itself in a fiery eruption.
The blast hit them like a punch from God.
Trent, halfway to the fence, felt the air get sucked out of his lungs as the shockwave slammed into him, throwing him backwards onto the dirt. His ears rang so loud it was just eeeeeee in his head.
Tina didn't fare much better — the force flung her sideways into the iron fence with a sick metallic clang. The impact rattled her skull, and the world instantly went fuzzy. Her knees buckled and she crumpled, still holding onto Quinn's limp arm like she could anchor them both with sheer stubbornness.
Flames and smoke billowed upward behind them, the heat so intense Trent could feel it from where he lay. More explosions rippled through the estate like dominoes falling, each blast closer than the last.
Trent scrambled onto his elbows, coughing, eyes darting between Tina, Quinn, and the inferno creeping toward them. His brain was screaming one thing over and over — they've got seconds.
"Tina! Tina, get up!" he shouted, but her head lolled and her grip on Quinn's arm slackened.
Another KRAA-BOOM ripped through the ground, the vibration buzzing in his teeth.
He didn't have time to wonder who set this up. All he knew was if they didn't move now, there wouldn't be anyone left to ask.