Chapter 6 - Breach and Clear
The gunshot thunder in the enclosed basement was deafening. Jack fired three consecutive rounds into the locking mechanism, followed by a fourth directly into the hinge pins. Lead and pulverized mortar showered over his shoulders. Without pausing, he lowered his shoulder and slammed all two hundred pounds of his combat-conditioned frame against the reinforced oak-and-steel door.
The wood groaned. Jack recoiled, threw his weight forward again with a savage roar, and the shattered frame gave way with a violent snap.
Jack exploded into the ground-floor corridor. The air smelled of sulfur and cordite. He didn't check the corners; he ran with full, terrifying speed toward the guest room at the end of the hallway.
The door was locked.
Jack didn't bother turning the handle. He planted his combat boot squarely beside the lock cylinder. The door flew open, rebounding off the drywall with a crash that rattled the picture frames in the corridor.
Inside, Dr. Mercer—a thin, immaculate man in his early fifties wearing a charcoal bespoke suit and sterile latex gloves—was standing over Elena’s bed. In his right hand, Mercer held a 10ml syringe filled with clear liquid, its needle poised less than an inch from the port of the IV cannula taped to Elena’s bruised arm. Elena’s eyes were wide, bloodshot, and filled with silent terror, her cracked lips parted in a breathless gasp.
Mercer turned his head, his face freezing in pure shock. "Vance—wait!"
Jack closed the distance between them in half a heartbeat.
He didn't fire his weapon. He didn't want the noise to attract the private security guards Liam had undoubtedly summoned. Instead, Jack seized Mercer’s right wrist, twisting the doctor’s arm with brutal, surgical precision until the radial bone cracked like dry kindling.
Mercer screamed, a shrill, wet sound, as the syringe slipped from his nerveless fingers. Jack caught the falling plastic tube in midair, spun Mercer around by the collar of his suit, and drove his face directly into the mahogany nightstand.
Blood sprayed across the wallpaper. Mercer collapsed onto his knees, groaning and clutching his smashed nose.
"Jack..." Elena sobbed, reaching out with her good hand.
Jack ignored the groaning doctor, kneeling beside Elena and instantly tearing the IV tape from her arm, pulling the plastic cannula from her vein and applying pressure with a clean square of gauze from his pocket.
"I've got you," Jack whispered, his voice cracking with emotion as he wrapped his coat around her shuddering frame. "I've got you, Elena. Nobody touches you ever again."
"The... the front gates..." Mercer coughed from the floor, blood pouring between his fingers. "Liam... called the private security team... Blackwood Tactical. Six men. They’re already in the courtyard, Sergeant. You'll never get her past the perimeter."
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Jack pulled Mercer up by his neck tie until their noses almost touched.
"Then they brought the wrong weapons," Jack said coldly.
