Chapter 72 *
Scarlett’s POV
The office was huge. More like a luxury penthouse than a workspace.
Leather furniture. Mahogany desk. Built-in bookshelves covering an entire wall.
A separate sitting area with a couch and coffee table.
Even a private bathroom visible through a half-open door.
This wasn't just an office. This was a suite.
The leader shoved me inside. His guys followed. Pushing the remaining hostages in with us.
The door closed behind us with a heavy thud.
"Lock it," the leader ordered.
Novak engaged the deadbolt. Then pushed a heavy filing cabinet in front of the door.
We were sealed in.
Patterson stood in the middle of the room. Swaying slightly.
"Let them go." Patterson's voice was barely above a whisper. Defeated. "I'll give you what you want. Just let these people leave first."
The leader laughed. Actually laughed.
"You think I'm stupid?"
He raised his pistol. Fired twice.
Two hostages dropped. One clutching his shoulder. The other screaming, blood pouring from her leg.
"No!" Patterson lurched forward.
The leader backhanded him across the face.
Patterson went down hard. Hit the floor. Blood from his head wound started flowing again.
"Every time you waste my time, someone bleeds." The leader's voice was ice cold. "Next time, they die. You want that on your conscience?"
Patterson was on his hands and knees. Shaking.
The wounded hostages were sobbing. Begging.
"Please... please just give him what he wants..."
"I have kids... please, Doc..."
Patterson looked up at them. His face crumpled.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
He started to stand.
That's when the two younger guys—the brothers I'd noticed earlier—made their move.
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
They rushed the nearest guard. Tried to grab his rifle.
The guard didn't even hesitate.
Two shots. Point blank.
Both brothers hit the ground. Dead before they finished falling.
Their mother screamed. A animal sound. The kind that comes from somewhere deeper than words.
I was yanked backward. Gun barrel pressed against my temple again.
"Everyone stay down!" The leader's voice cut through the chaos. "Next person who moves dies!"
Silence. Except for muffled crying.
The leader looked at Patterson.
"The safe. Now."
Patterson got to his feet. Stumbled toward the far wall.
There was a painting there. Abstract art. He pushed it aside.
Behind it was a biometric safe. Patterson's hands were shaking as he pressed his palm to the scanner.
Green light. A series of beeps.
The safe door swung open.
He reached inside. Pulled out a small metal case.
About the size of a lunchbox. Brushed aluminum. Combination lock.
He set it on the desk. Started working the lock.
His fingers fumbled. Once. Twice.
"Hurry up."
"I'm trying. I haven't opened this in years."
Click. Click. Click.
The lock disengaged.
Patterson lifted the lid.
Inside were five vials. Small. Maybe four inches long.
Filled with liquid that glowed faint blue under the office lights.
My heart stopped.
No.
No fucking way.
I knew those vials. Knew exactly what they were.
Cosmos-1.
The Pacific Basin black site. Two years ago. That nightmare facility hidden in the middle of the ocean.
I'd personally overseen the destruction of their entire research archive.
Burned every file. Smashed every computer. Destroyed every sample.
Or so I thought.
The Cosmos-1 samples were supposed to be completely destroyed.
Why the hell does Dr. Patterson still have this?
Was he part of that research program?
My mind was racing. Trying to piece it together.
The leader grabbed the case. Examined the vials.
"This is it?"
"Yes." Patterson's voice was hollow.
"Five vials. That's all you have?"
"That's all that exists."
The leader smiled. Closed the case. Locked it.
"Perfect."
He turned to his men. Made a small gesture with his hand.
I saw it. The signal.
Oh, you've got to be kidding me.
The guards raised their rifles.
Aimed at the remaining hostages.
"Wait—" Patterson started.
Too late.
Three shots. The wounded hostages and the nurse who'd been shot in the leg.
All dead.
The mother who'd lost her sons was still screaming. One of the guards walked over.
Single shot to the head.
Silence.
Patterson fell to his knees. "You said... you said if I cooperated..."
"I lied." The leader turned his gun on Patterson. Then on me. "Nothing personal, Doc. Just business."
Of course. Should've seen that coming.
The guard holding me shifted his grip. Getting ready to fire.
I felt time slow down.
Saw his finger start to squeeze the trigger.
My body moved before my brain caught up.
I dropped. Fast. Grabbed something off the floor.
A shard of broken glass from when they'd shot out the windows earlier.
Drove it upward with everything I had.
Straight through his throat.
Hot blood sprayed across my face.
He made a gurgling sound. Tried to grab at the glass.
I twisted it. Pulled it out.
He dropped like a stone.
His rifle clattered to the floor.
I was already moving. Dove for it.
Slid across the blood-slicked floor. Caught the rifle mid-slide.
Came up on one knee.
The other guards were still processing what just happened.
Too slow.
I fired.
First shot. Headshot. The one nearest Patterson.
Second shot. Another headshot. The one by the door.
Third shot. The one reaching for his radio.
All down.
Three seconds. Three kills.
The leader was the only one left standing.
His eyes were wide. Shocked.
"What the fuck—"
I pushed Patterson behind the desk. Used it as cover.
Kept my rifle trained on the leader.
"Who are you?" His voice had changed. No longer confident. Actually nervous.
I didn't answer. Just kept my aim steady.
He was backing toward the door. One hand gripping the metal case.
"Stay back. I'm warning you."
"You're warning me?" I almost laughed. "You just tried to kill me."
"I know what you are." His eyes were darting around. Looking for an exit. "You're not some random civilian."
"Smart boy."
He kept moving backward. Reaching for the door handle.
I shifted my aim. Fired a burst at the doorframe.
Wood splintered. He jerked back.
"Going somewhere?"
"You can't stop me. This building is rigged to blow. You kill me, everyone dies."
"Then we all die together."
I fired again. This time at his feet.
He jumped back. Hit the filing cabinet they'd pushed against the door earlier.
Trapped.
His face went white.
"You're insane."
"Maybe." I kept the rifle trained on him. "Or maybe I just really hate people who shoot pregnant women."
Behind me, Patterson was hyperventilating.