Chapter 81 *
Third Person POV
The lobby had been quiet for thirty minutes.
Too quiet.
Jaff paced near the reception desk. His rifle hung loose in his hands. The other Bratva members were positioned around the room. Watching the exits. Watching the hostages.
But mostly watching the hallway where their boss had disappeared.
"Where the fuck is he?" One of the guys muttered. Viktor. Young. Nervous energy. "He said twenty minutes."
"Shut up." Jaff didn't look at him. "He'll be back."
"It's been half an hour."
"I said shut up."
The hostages were still on the floor. Hands on their heads. Some were crying quietly. Others just stared at nothing.
Jaff checked his watch again. Thirty-two minutes.
His hand went to his chest. Felt the bulk of the vest under his tactical gear.
C-4. Enough to bring down half the building.
And the dirty bomb. That was the real insurance. Radiological material that would contaminate everything within a mile radius.
"Maybe we should check on him." Viktor again.
"He can handle himself."
"But what ifâ€""
The lights went out.
Complete darkness. Emergency lighting kicked in after three seconds.
Red glow. Shadows everywhere.
"What the hell?" Viktor raised his rifle.
"Stay calm." Jaff's voice cut through the confusion. "Probably just the backup generator switching over."
But his gut said otherwise.
Something was wrong.
He scanned the room. Counted his guys. Twelve total including himself.
All accounted for.
The hostages hadn't moved.
So why did his skin crawl?
Then he saw them.
Two figures. Emerging from the stairwell. Moving fast.
Black tactical gear. Balaclavas. Weapons raised.
"Contact!" Jaff shouted.
Every rifle in the room swung toward the targets.
But they were already moving.
The first figure went left. The second went right.
Gunfire erupted.
The figure on the left was impossibly fast. Three shots. Three headshots.
Jaff's guys dropped like puppets with cut strings.
The figure on the right had a crossbow. Silent. Deadly.
Two more went down. Bolts through their throats.
Five seconds. Five men dead.
Jaff dove behind the reception desk. His heart hammered against the vest.
These people moved like ghosts.
He popped up. Fired a burst toward the left figure.
The man didn't even flinch. Just shifted position. Bullets sparked off the floor where he'd been standing.
Then the crossbow figure was on his last guy. Mikhail.
Mikhail tried to bring his rifle around.
Too slow.
A bolt punched through his eye socket. He dropped.
Silence.
Jaff was the only one left.
He scrambled backward. Grabbed the nearest hostage. An elderly woman. Pulled her up in front of him.
"Back off!" His voice cracked. "I'll blow us all to hell! This dirty bomb goes off, everyone in this building dies!"
The two figures stopped.
Stood there in the red emergency lighting. Perfectly still.
The one with the crossbow was smaller.
The other one was taller. Broader. And there was something about the way he stood.
Like he owned the room.
Jaff pressed his gun against the woman's temple. "I'm serious! One wrong move andâ€""
The tall figure raised his crossbow. Aimed it directly at Jaff's head.
Jaff jerked the woman higher. Used her as a shield.
"Are you fucking insane? You'll hit the hostage!"
The man's voice came through. Deep. Calm. Almost bored.
"Go ahead then. Pull the trigger."
Jaff's blood ran cold.
"What?"
"You heard me." The crossbow didn't waver. "Blow yourself up. Let's see if you've got the balls."
This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.
Jaff fired at the ceiling. Three quick bursts. Plaster rained down.
"I'm not fucking around! I will detonate!"
The man took a step forward.
"Then do it."
Another step.
"Stop!" Jaff backed up. Dragged the hostage with him. "I swear to Godâ€""
"No God here." Another step. "Just you. Me. And a choice."
Jaff's finger hovered over the detonator. Built into his vest. One button press.
That's all it would take.
But his hand was shaking.
The man kept coming. Slow. Deliberate. Like he had all the time in the world.
"Who the fuck are you people?" Jaff's voice came out higher than he wanted. "Even SWAT doesn't move like this!"
The man didn't answer. Just raised the crossbow.
Fired.
The bolt whistled past Jaff's ear. So close he felt the air displacement.
It embedded in the wall behind him.
"Next one goes through your skull." The man reloaded. Smooth. Practiced. "Your move."
Jaff switched positions. Tried to keep the hostage between them.
But the man just adjusted his aim. Like he was tracking a target at a firing range.
No hesitation. No fear.
Jaff had seen a lot of killers in his life. Bratva enforcers. Chechen terrorists. Mexican cartel hitmen.
None of them moved like this.
"You FBI?" He was stalling now. "CIA? Homeland Security?"
The man's head tilted slightly. "Do I look like a fed to you?"
"..."
"Didn't think so."
The crossbow fired again. This time it punched through Jaff's shoulder. The one holding the gun.
His arm went numb. The pistol clattered to the floor.
He stumbled back. The hostage broke free. Ran toward the other survivors.
Now he had nothing. No weapon. No shield.
Just the vest.
"Don't come any closer!" Jaff's hand went to the detonator. "I'll do it! I swear I'll do it!"
The man kept walking. Didn't even slow down.
"Who the hell are you?" Jaff's back hit the wall. "Why are you fucking with my operation?"
The smaller figure spoke for the first time. "You picked the wrong hospital."
Jaff's mind raced. They had leverage. They had the ultimate leverage.
A dirty bomb in the middle of Manhattan. Hundreds of hostages from connected families.
The authorities couldn't touch them. Nobody could.
That's why they'd been so confident. That's why the plan had been flawless.
But this guy.
This fucking maniac.
He didn't care about the hostages. Didn't care about the bomb. Didn't care about anything.
"You're bluffing." Jaff tried to sound confident. Failed. "You won't risk it. Too many important people in this room."
The man stopped. Close enough that Jaff could see his eyes through the balaclava.
Dark. Empty. Like looking into a void.
"You think I care about important people?" The man's voice dropped lower. Dangerous. "You think I give a fuck about consequences?"