Chapter 72: Don't You Think What You're Doing Is Disgusting?

Chapter 72: Don't You Think What You're Doing Is Disgusting?
Samantha's POV

Under the harsh glare of floodlights, Peterson's silhouette became unmistakable. The polished FBI administrator I'd known was gone, replaced by someone in military-green combat fatigues who moved like violence was second nature. Armed soldiers emerged from the shadows behind him, their weapons trained on me with professional precision.

"Peterson!" The name ripped from my throat. "I knew you were a snake!"

His laugh echoed across the empty space, cold and mocking. That satisfied expression I'd caught at headquarters made perfect sense now.

"Thompson, you're still so damn naive." His voice carried the condescending tone of someone explaining basic facts to a child. "Did you really think Harrison was the good guy in all this?"

He stepped closer, and the gentle mask he'd worn at headquarters had been completely discarded. His pale eyes reflected the floodlights like a predator's.

My grip tightened on my weapon, but twenty guns pointed at me made the gesture feel pathetically inadequate. The soldiers moved with textbook discipline, steady and unwavering.

"Twenty-five years ago, you wanna know what really happened?" Peterson's voice took on a theatrical quality, like he was savoring this revelation. "When Harrison discovered our operation, he didn't want to stop it. He wanted to take it over."

"What are you talking about?"

"Harrison didn't kill your parents to protect national secrets, Thompson. He murdered David and Rachel because he wanted those weapon technologies for himself."

The words hit like physical blows. My parents' faces flashed through my mind, their gentle smiles, their belief they were helping people. The idea that they'd died for simple greed made bile rise in my throat.

"That's impossible."

"Harrison's touching story about avenging fallen soldiers? Pure bullshit." Peterson's tone dripped with disdain. "The man you've been working with wants to build his own military empire. All that talk about justice and honor? Beautiful lies to manipulate idealistic fools like you."

He gestured toward the building with casual arrogance. "He's been using you as a weapon this entire time, Thompson. Pointing you at his enemies while he consolidates power in the shadows."

That's when the explosion shattered the night.

The sound erupted from deep within the building, sharp and vicious, followed by automatic weapons fire. Glass rained down from upper floors, and shouting echoed through broken windows.

Harrison's voice crackled through my earpiece, strained and urgent: "Samantha, they found me! The hostages are safe, but I'm surrounded!"

Then, cutting through the chaos like a lifeline, came Matthew's voice. Even filtered through static, his particular brand of irritated concern was unmistakable: "Thompson! You stubborn idiot, why did you trust that crazy old bastard? Now we're all trapped in this hellhole!"

Relief flooded through me so intensely I nearly stumbled. Whatever lies I was drowning in, Matthew was alive and angry. That was real.

Peterson watched my face, his expression shifting to smug satisfaction as he absorbed the sounds of battle. "See? His true nature's showing itself now. Still think your mentor's some tragic hero?"

The explosions and gunfire continued, punctuated by shouted orders and crashing glass. Each sound felt like proof that Matthew, Tyler, and Sarah were still breathing.

"Now put down your weapon, Thompson." Peterson's voice hardened. "Work with us, and your friends live to see tomorrow. Otherwise..."

He made a casual throat-cutting gesture, smile turning predatory. The soldiers shifted, weapons still trained but bodies tense with anticipation.

I stared at Peterson's cold eyes, then at the killers flanking him. Each one looked like they'd murdered people without losing sleep. On one side was Harrison, who might have killed my parents for personal gain. On the other was Peterson, who was definitely planning to kill everyone I cared about.

But Tyler, Sarah, and Matthew mattered more than my revenge. They mattered more than anything.

Slowly, reluctantly, I lowered my weapon and raised my hands. The gesture felt like surrender in every possible sense.

"Fine. I give up. But if anything happens to them..."

"Threatening me?" Peterson's laugh was sharp as breaking glass. "You're in no position to make demands."

He gestured to his soldiers. "Disarm her completely. Search everything. I don't want so much as a paperclip overlooked."

Two soldiers moved forward with professional thoroughness, stripping away my tactical vest, spare magazines, communication equipment. Every tool that might give me an advantage disappeared.

"Excellent." Peterson's satisfaction was evident. "Now let's go inside and watch your mentor's final moments."

They forced me forward at gunpoint, boots crunching over debris. The industrial building loomed overhead, broken windows staring down like dead eyes.

The basement hit me with dampness and fear. Harsh fluorescent lights created stark shadows that made everything look like a horror movie set. When my eyes adjusted, the scene nearly broke my heart.

Tyler was bound to a chair, duct tape over his mouth. When he saw me being pushed down the stairs, he struggled desperately, muffled shouts trying to break through the tape. His eyes blazed with protective fury.

"Sammie!" Sarah's voice rang out clear and afraid. She was tied up but not gagged. "You shouldn't have come! This was obviously a trap!"

Her red hair was disheveled, tear tracks on her cheeks, but her eyes blazed with fierce loyalty.

Matthew made me want to both laugh and cry. They'd locked him in what looked like an animal cage, too small for him to stand. Despite the cramped conditions, when he saw me his face split into that insufferable grin.

"Well, well, Thompson," he said, voice carrying familiar affection and exasperation. "Fancy meeting you here. Though I gotta say, your choice of vacation spots keeps getting worse."

The surge of relief at seeing them relatively unharmed was immediately overwhelmed by fury at their treatment.

"If you've hurt them, I swear I'll make you pay!"

Harrison stood against the far wall, surrounded by assault rifles. His clothes were torn and bloodstained, evidence of the running battle he'd fought. When he saw me, genuine anguish crossed his features.

"Samantha, I'm sorry I dragged you into this. This is my war, my responsibility. You shouldn't have to bear the consequences."

The pain in his voice was real, but I didn't know what to believe anymore.

Peterson descended like a conquering general, satisfaction evident in every step. He walked directly to Harrison with the confidence of someone settling an old score.

"Well, old friend, the game's finally over. Twenty-five years of cat and mouse, and here we are at the end."

Harrison's gray eyes met Peterson's with steady defiance. "You think killing me solves anything? You think this organization dies with me? You're more naive than I thought."

Peterson's smile turned predatory. "Thompson, you want to hear the final truth? Harrison did start this crusade because he lost his soldiers. But he forgot something important. Revenge creates monsters. And monsters can't be controlled, not even by their creators."

He pointed at Harrison with theatrical flourish. "Now he wants to stop, to call off the hunt, because he's developed a weakness." His gaze shifted to me with cold amusement. "You. But this organization isn't his personal army anymore. It has its own life. We don't need his permission to finish what he started."

The implications hit like ice water. If Peterson was telling the truth, then Harrison's change of heart didn't matter. The killing machine he'd helped create would continue operating regardless.

Harrison looked at me with raw vulnerability mixed with desperate love. The face of a man watching his only chance at redemption slip away.

"Samantha, no matter how much you hate me, I need you to remember something." His voice shook with emotion. "My feelings for you were real. I never had a wife or children, never had family. From the moment I saw you at West Point, I decided to protect you, to raise you as if you were my own daughter."

Tears gathered in his eyes. "David and Rachel were good people. I know killing them can never be forgiven, but I hoped... maybe if I could help you become the officer they would have wanted you to be..."

"You thought being a good mentor would balance the scales?" My voice came out harder than intended. "You thought teaching me would somehow erase destroying my family?"

Peterson pulled his sidearm with theatrical flair, metal gleaming under harsh lights. "Enough of this touching reunion. Save the father-daughter speeches for your next life."

He raised the weapon toward Harrison's chest, finger finding the trigger. This was it. Whatever truth Harrison might still be hiding would die with him.

That's when Harrison's eyes suddenly sharpened with desperate resolve. Instead of trying to escape, he spun toward the wall behind him where green military-style ammunition crates were stacked.

The realization hit me like lightning.

"Everyone get down!" I screamed.

Matthew's training kicked in immediately. "Thompson says get down, you get down! Don't ask questions! This woman's instincts are better than weather forecasts!"

Tyler threw himself sideways. Sarah curled into a protective ball. Peterson's soldiers began to react, weapons swinging toward Harrison, but they were too late.

Harrison's hand found the detonator attached to the ammunition crate.

Time froze for one impossible second.

Then the world exploded.