When Jack, Angela, and Hannah reached room 365, the scene was chaos. Drywall blown open, furniture splintered, smoke and dust hanging in the air. Lucy lay sprawled on the floor, chest plate cracked from a shot that had knocked her out cold.
Two gang enforcers grappled with Tim, fists and elbows flying. On the sofa, a trembling Latina woman cradled a newborn, shielding the child with her body.
Jack froze, Glock raised but finger tight on the trigger. One mistake, and he could hit the baby. He hesitated—
Angela and Hannah didn't. Both drew their Tasers in one smooth motion. Twin bursts of electricity cracked the air, dropping the two men writhing to the floor.
"Lucy!" Tim rasped, face swollen and bloodied. He shoved the unconscious thugs aside and crawled to her. With trembling hands, he ripped her vest open.
Lucy coughed, eyes fluttering open. She spat dust, then pulled a mangled bullet from the plate with shaking fingers. "Relax. I'm fine," she croaked.
Tim's relief lasted only a second. He clenched his Glock, eyes burning. "Vance Marcus… he killed Isabella. He admitted it." Without waiting, he stormed out.
Jack swore under his breath and chased after him. "Tim! Reinforcements are here. Don't do something stupid!"
They hit the stairwell. Muzzle flashes erupted. Bullets screamed off the walls, one grazing Tim's scalp. Instead of diving for cover, he vaulted the rail, dropping from the third floor to the landing below.
Marcus was there—reloading his Uzi.
Tim squeezed off a desperate shot. The first round staggered Marcus, his vest absorbing the impact. But when Tim pulled again—click. Empty.
Marcus's grin was wolfish as he snapped the bolt forward.
Jack didn't think—he moved. The Colt Python thundered, its .357 rounds tearing through body armor like paper. Six shots. Six gaping holes. Marcus collapsed in a heap.
Pain flared white-hot. Jack stumbled, clutching his leg. "Fuck, Bradford—you almost got us both killed!" Blood poured from his calf, a ricochet finding its mark.
Tim dropped to his side, fumbling for a tourniquet. His hands shook as he tied it tight above Jack's knee. "My fault. All of it. I'm sorry, kid. You saved me again."
Jack gritted his teeth, eyes drifting to the hall. Reinforcements stormed the building—SWAT in black, officers flooding the stairwell. Superintendent Gray's booming voice cut through the chaos. Behind him, Zoe appeared, armored and armed, her eyes locking on Jack.
"Jack!" Her voice cracked with emotion. She wanted to run to him, to push Tim aside.
Jack forced himself upright, wincing. "Captain Anderson," he said pointedly, voice firm despite the pain. "I'm fine. No bone damage. But Bishop's critical—she needs priority evac."
Zoe froze, catching the warning in his tone. Their relationship had to stay buried. One slip could cost them both everything.
"Bishop's already en route to Central," Zoe replied briskly, face back under control. "Anyone else injured?"
"Lucy's fine—plate caught it. There's a mother and child upstairs. Secure them. Bradford's taking me to the hospital."
Tim slung Jack's arm over his shoulder, hauling him up one step at a time. Zoe's eyes lingered a beat too long. "I'll see you later. At the hospital."
The ER was bright, sterile, almost surreal after the gunfire. A nurse dropped a .40 slug into a tray with a metallic clang.
"You're lucky, Officer Tavola," Dr. Grey said, tugging off her mask with a smile in her eyes. "Two centimeters deeper and you'd need stitches. As it is, no bone damage. Walk in a week."
Jack forced a grin. "Guess my luck's still holding."
She wrapped the bandage neat and tight, even tying it off in a playful bow. Then she leaned close, patting his cheek. "Discharge tomorrow. Back in three days for a dressing change. Consider that… a bonus."
The nurse chuckled. "Or she could keep you here longer—in her private room."
Jack rolled his eyes, fighting down the adrenaline aftershock. Between the pain, the lust, and the violence simmering in his blood, his head wasn't in the mood for doctor drama.
Grey wheeled him out. Applause erupted from the officers waiting in the hall. Jack blinked, dazed by the ovation.
John was first, rolling forward in his own chair, pushed by a doctor with kind eyes. "You did it, Jack. Twice now. I owe you one."
Before Jack could reply, Hannah burst through the crowd, wrapped him in a hug, and kissed him hard on the cheek. "If it weren't for you and Angela, Bishop and I would be dead."
Jack flushed, suddenly aware of the entire hallway watching. He just managed a crooked smile. "All in a day's work."
(End of this chapter)