Chapter 6 - THE SIEGE OF WALTER REED“Contact! Multiple hostiles breaching the west wing!” Marcus’s voice blared over my encrypted tactical earpiece.
I didn't hesitate. I locked the heavy steel door of Audrey's VIP room from the inside, barricading it with the heavy oak dresser.
“Dad, what's happening?!” Audrey panicked, trying to sit up, her IV tubes pulling taut.
“Stay down on the floor under the mattress, Audrey! Do not move no matter what you hear!” I commanded, my voice carrying the absolute authority of a veteran commander.
Outside in the hallway, the sound of suppressed automatic gunfire was deafening. Glass shattered as windows blew out, and flashbang grenades detonated with blinding white-hot light and concussive shockwaves.
Apex Aegis mercenaries—highly trained, black-ops tier contractors wearing unmarked tactical gear and night-vision goggles—had infiltrated the hospital. They weren't here for a rescue; they were here to wipe out every single witness, starting with Audrey.
Bang! Bang!
Heavy rounds punched straight through the drywall beside the doorway.
I positioned myself beside the shattered doorframe, my SIG Sauer leveled dead-center at the entrance.
The door handle jiggled. Someone kicked the door, but the dresser held firm. Then came the unmistakable hiss of a thermal cutting torch burning through the steel hinges.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Sparks showered across the floor inside the room.
I took a deep breath, slowing my heart rate down to a rhythmic crawl—the exact technique I had used decades ago in sniper school.
One.
The top hinge gave way with a loud snap.
Two.
The bottom hinge melted through.
Three.
The heavy steel door crashed inward. The lead mercenary stepped through the threshold, his rifle raised and scanning the room with infrared optics.
He never saw the round coming.
A single, perfectly placed shot caught him square in the ceramic plate of his tactical vest, dropping him instantly, followed by a quick neutralization sweep. I stepped over his body, grabbing his suppressed assault rifle and tossing my empty pistol aside.
“Marcus, status!” I barked into my comms as I stepped out into the smoke-filled hallway.
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“We’ve got three down in the corridor, but they're using smoke and chemical flares!” Marcus shouted over the din of gunfire nearby. “They brought professional clean-up squad operators, Elias! These aren't regular mercs—these are former Spetsnaz and SAS deserters!”
“Draw them toward the central atrium,” I ordered coldly. “Let’s see how they like fighting in a kill zone of their own making.”
