Chapter 71: If Anything Happens to Them, I'll Kill You

Chapter 71: If Anything Happens to Them, I'll Kill You
Samantha's POV

Peterson's words slammed into me like a physical blow. The warehouse lights suddenly felt too bright, too harsh, illuminating a reality I wasn't prepared for.

"What do you mean they're moving against them?" My voice came out steady despite the terror crawling up my throat.

"Right now. As we speak." Peterson set the folder on a nearby crate, his movements deliberate. "Your cousin Tyler, Mrs. Mitchell, Agent Morgan. They're all being taken into custody by Ghost Squad operatives."

The gun in my hands felt useless. Everything around me became background noise as one thought consumed my mind: Matthew.

I spun away from Peterson and ran. My boots pounded against concrete as I burst through the warehouse door into the night air, no longer caring what Peterson might do behind me. The parking lot blurred past as I fumbled for my keys, dropping them twice before my shaking hands managed to unlock the car.

The engine roared to life and I floored it, tires screaming against asphalt. Three red lights passed in a blur of ignored traffic laws. My phone was already dialing Matthew's number before I'd consciously decided to call.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Nothing.

I tried again. Same result. The busy signal felt like a death knell echoing through the car's interior.

Every worst-case scenario my FBI training had ever taught me flashed through my mind. Professional kidnappings. Interrogations. People disappearing without a trace. Matthew's stupid jokes and that insufferable grin might be the last things I'd ever remember about him.

The Mitchell house sat in complete darkness when I screeched to a stop outside. No lights in any windows, no familiar glow from Catherine's late-night television habits. The silence felt wrong, oppressive.

I drew my weapon and approached the house using tactical positioning, staying low along the fence line. The back door hung open, splintered wood around the lock telling its own violent story.

Inside, the living room had been destroyed. Overturned furniture, scattered cushions, broken glass crunching under my boots. The aftermath of a struggle played out in displaced objects and chaos.

Then I saw the blood.

Dark stains on the wall, already drying. Not much, but enough to paint a picture I didn't want to see. I touched the smears with trembling fingers, trying to read what had happened here.

"Tyler? Catherine? Matthew?" My voice echoed through empty rooms, bouncing off walls that had witnessed too much violence. Only silence answered back.

My phone's shrill ring cut through the quiet like a blade. UNKNOWN CALLER flashed on the screen.

"Agent Thompson."

"Samantha, if you want them safe, you'll do exactly what I tell you."

Harrison's voice. Of course.

"What did you do to them? Where's Matthew?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "If anything happens to them..."

"They're still safe, including your special agent friend. But not for long. Those people have found my location."

I gripped the phone so tight my knuckles went white. "If anything happens to them, I'll kill you!"

"Peterson is working for them. She lured you to that pier specifically to buy time while they grabbed your people. Right now, we have a common enemy."

Peterson. The pieces clicked together with sickening clarity. Her calm reaction to Harrison's breakdown, her relieved expression when he'd disappeared. I'd been played.

"Listen carefully," Harrison continued. "They've taken everyone to the abandoned industrial district outside the city. I'm sending you the address. This is the final confrontation, Samantha. If we fail, not only will your friends die, but the entire conspiracy succeeds."

My phone buzzed with the location. Every instinct screamed trap, but Tyler, Catherine, Sarah, and Matthew were all in danger because of me.

"How do I know this isn't just another setup?"

"Because now we have a common enemy. And because I owe you more than just an explanation."

I closed my eyes, drawing a steadying breath. When I opened them, FBI training had reasserted control over the emotional chaos.

"One hour. Meet me at the industrial district. Harrison, if this is a trap, I'll make you regret ever being born."

"I know."

The abandoned industrial district sprawled under the night sky like a cancer. Several buildings showed dim lights in their windows, glowing like predator eyes in the darkness. Black SUVs scattered across the parking lot confirmed this place was very much active tonight.

Harrison waited by an old cargo truck, looking more haggard than he had in his office. His eyes remained sharp despite the exhaustion written across his features.

"Samantha, I know you hate me, but right now we need to work together."

"If this is a trap, I'll kill you with my bare hands. That's a promise, not a threat."

Harrison pulled a black duffel bag from the truck, revealing military-grade tactical equipment. Night vision goggles, communication gear, extra magazines. Everything looked professional.

"They're holding the hostages in the basement of the central building. At least twenty armed personnel, all professional military contractors."

Twenty professional killers against two of us. Under normal circumstances, this would be suicide. But Matthew's life hung in the balance, along with my family's.

"Frontal assault won't work," Harrison said, spreading building blueprints under his flashlight. "We need to split their attention. You create a distraction from the front while I infiltrate through the side maintenance tunnel."

"Just me against twenty pros? You sure you're not hoping they'll solve your problem permanently?"

"These are flash bangs, night vision scope, plenty of ammunition. Your goal isn't to kill them all, just keep them busy long enough."

Harrison paused, studying my face in the dim light. "There's something else. Your friend Matthew is more dangerous than he looks. If I'm right, he's not just ordinary ex-CIA."

"What do you mean?"

"He carries marks of the kind of special training I've seen before. If he can break free, he'll be valuable backup."

Matthew's secrets. I'd always known he was hiding something significant, but now wasn't the time for investigation. Whatever he was, whatever his past held, I was bringing him back alive.

I checked my equipment one final time. Flash bangs secured to my belt, spare magazines in the tactical vest, communication device tuned to Harrison's frequency.

I walked boldly toward the main building entrance, making no attempt at concealment. When I reached optimal distance, I raised my FBI credentials and shouted:

"Federal Bureau of Investigation! Drop your weapons and release the hostages!"

Gunfire erupted immediately, bullets whining past my ears and sparking off concrete. I rolled behind a cement pillar for cover, the familiar weight of my weapon steady in my hands.

If Matthew were here, he'd probably call this frontal assault suicidally stupid. But I had no choice except to go all in.

"Nice distraction," Harrison's voice crackled through my earpiece. "I'm inside the building, looking for the basement entrance."

"Move fast! Not sure how long I can hold them!"

I exchanged fierce gunfire with the guards, relying on FBI training and quick terrain assessment to maintain the precarious balance. My old shoulder wound began throbbing, but I gritted my teeth and pressed forward.

"Found them!" Harrison's voice carried enormous relief through the static. "Tyler and Sarah are both alive. Matthew's here too, though he looks pretty pissed. They're all tied up, but condition seems stable."

Relief nearly knocked me over. Thank God. They were alive. Especially Matthew. An angry Matthew was a normal Matthew.

"Freeing them will take time, at least ten minutes. Can you hold out?"

"I'll find a way!"

That's when a familiar voice boomed from inside the building through what sounded like a loudspeaker, low and threatening:

"Agent Thompson, please cease fire. We need to talk. Your friends' lives are now in my hands, and I suggest you carefully consider your next move."