Just as they hit the road, a minor incident unfolded. Dana Morse privately asked Jack whether the success rate would increase if he personally took over the assault instead of the SWAT team.
She knew Jack's marksmanship. Being able to land a headshot on a suspect with a handgun from 30 or 40 meters away was child's play for him. In the tight confines of the safe house, which spanned only seven or eight meters, it would be effortless.
The problem was that the SWAT team had repeatedly tested their methods, and the diameter of the breach they could create was limited. Using handguns was their only option.
The real issue was timing. Even with flashbangs deployed after the breach, followed by rappelling in and firing at Helton, the fastest team member would need at least six seconds.
Six seconds, however, was enough for Helton, despite being disoriented by the flashbang, to blindly unload his magazine in Chloe's direction. In that time, she could be shot seven or eight times, not to mention the risk of ricochets in such a confined space.
Before Jack left, he offered a suggestion. If it were him, he'd wear night vision goggles and noise-canceling earmuffs. The moment the breach was made, he'd skip rappelling and instead jump in immediately after the flashbang, cutting the operation time down to three seconds.
To prove his point, Jack demonstrated by jumping from a similar height of about 3.5 meters. By the time he landed, he had already completed the shooting action.
The SWAT team was stunned, calling him a "Starbucks War God." None of them could jump from that height without rolling to cushion the impact, let alone land on one knee and fire a shot. One skeptical member tried it and ended up in the hospital with a knee injury.
Dana Morse hoped Jack would stay at the scene just in case something went wrong with the rescue, or if Stephanie couldn't be saved. The safe house assault would then be left to him to lead.
Jack rarely turned down orders, but this time, he declined Dana's suggestion with solid reasoning. Helton's emotions had noticeably calmed, and Chloe wasn't in immediate danger. Stephanie's safety was now the priority. Since her survival directly affected Chloe's, the rescue mission took precedence.
Most importantly, Helton had stopped insisting on a time limit. Even if something went wrong, Jack could make it back from Hartford in time to lead the assault, especially with a helicopter at the ready.
Hartford, the capital of Connecticut, was just over 100 miles (about 180 kilometers) from New York City. By the time Jack's Dodge Hellcat tore down the highway, the pigeons flying in a straight line had just landed.
Of the five pigeons released, three reached their destination—a villa in the suburbs. Concerned that the sudden arrival of so many unmarked pigeons might arouse suspicion, Jack spent only ten minutes preparing the operation before giving the go-ahead for the SWAT team to strike.
"Move! Move! Move!" This time, Jack led the charge, wielding an HK417 fitted with a suppressor. As the breaching specialist smashed through the door with a ram, Jack stormed in.
"Thud!" Three gang members were lounging in the living room, chatting over burgers. The one closest to the door was knocked unconscious by a rifle butt to the back of the head before he knew what hit him.
The tattooed thug across from him instinctively reached for a handgun on the table. Before he could grasp it, two suppressed shots rang out—thup, thup—leaving two holes in his skull as he collapsed backward.
Jack's fury was palpable, his actions swift and ruthless.
The third man, terrified, raised his hands, still holding half a burger in his mouth. A SWAT officer following closely behind kicked him to the ground and handcuffed him.
Hannah and the rest of the team moved methodically, clearing the rest of the house. Jack followed closely, ensuring the area was secure.
"FBI! Hands up!"
"Keep moving! Clear every room!"
"Clear!"
"I've got two civilians here!"
"Clear!"
The villa was divided into numerous small rooms, each containing two to three bunk beds. Some rooms housed four girls; others crammed in five or six.
"Hey, hey, hey, don't be afraid. We're the FBI, and we're here to help," Hannah said gently, lowering her weapon slightly to reassure the frightened girls.
"Does anyone here know Stephanie?" Jack asked once the gang members were subdued.
"She's over there. She's really sick. They just gave her a shot," one girl said, pointing to a large room separated by a curtain.
Jack pulled back the curtain, and a foul stench hit him. Not the smell of waste, but the sickening odor of severe wound infection.
His heart sank as he slung the HK417 over his shoulder and knelt by the unconscious girl on the mattress.
It was Stephanie. Compared to her photo, she was almost unrecognizable—her cheeks sunken, lips pale, lying there like a corpse.
Pulling back the filthy blanket covering her, Jack found her body exposed, though the sight stirred no thoughts of intimacy. The source of the stench was clear—it came from severe infections in her lower body.
"Animals." Jack yanked out the syringe still embedded in her arm and shouted, "Medical kit! I need naloxone here!"
Jack was relieved he had insisted on prioritizing this rescue. Without it, they might have only recovered her corpse.
The gang members had not only subjected Stephanie to relentless abuse but also injected her with high-purity drugs, causing severe infection, sepsis, and multi-organ failure.
After stabilizing her condition, Jack sighed. Even though she was alive, detoxing would be a long and painful journey—one she would have to face herself.
"Is she going to be okay?" Hannah, tears in her eyes, helped clean Stephanie and dressed her, ignoring the filth.
"She's out of immediate danger, but the road to recovery will be long," Jack replied, feeling a pang of helplessness. The price of youthful rebellion was tragically high.
"Sir, the ambulance will be here in five minutes," a SWAT officer called from outside.
"Got it, thanks." Jack glanced at Stephanie, who was beginning to stir. He pulled out his phone and called Jubal.
"We've rescued the girl, but she's in rough shape. She can say a few words; I'll put it on speaker."
A few moments later, Helton's voice came through, trembling with emotion. "Sweetheart, Stephanie, is that you?"
"Daddy?" Stephanie's voice was weak, but the familiar sound brought her a flicker of clarity.
"It's me, darling. Are you okay?" Helton's voice broke.
"I'm fine. The FBI saved me. Where are you? I miss you. I'm so sorry, Daddy. I made a mistake," Stephanie sobbed, her tears reflecting deep remorse for the past three weeks of torment.
Worried that letting her say too much might backfire, Jack switched off the speaker and spoke directly into the phone. Now wasn't the time for Helton to learn the full extent of her ordeal. No father could endure such knowledge.
"Michael Helton, is this enough? The ambulance is almost here. We're taking Stephanie to the hospital. Open the safe house. Let's not make this worse."
"Okay, okay. I'm opening it now. Thank you. Thank you so much."
"Drop the weapon!"
"On your knees!"
"Clear!"
"Hostage secured!"
Hearing the sounds of the safe house being breached and SWAT officers shouting commands over the phone, Jack and Hannah finally exhaled in relief.
This dreadful day was finally over.
------------------
Enjoying the story? Support the author and get early access to chapters by joining my Patre@n!
Find me at: patre@n*com/Mutter
You can read each novel for $5 or get them all for just $15.
Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]