Chapter 10 - The Interception
“Freeze! Drop the needle!” I roared, kicking the door wide open and leveling my service pistol directly at the intruder’s chest.
The man froze, his eyes darting wildly toward the exit before he realized he was trapped. In a split second of desperation, he ripped the mask from his face—revealing one of the Ferguson family’s private security guards.
“Go ahead, Colonel,” the man sneered, his hand hovering near Abigail’s arm. “One twitch and she gets a bubble in her bloodstream. You can’t stop everything.”
Abigail whimpered beneath him, her eyes wide with terror, but she shook her head fiercely, trying to warn me.
I didn't panic. Years of combat deployments had trained my mind to find the micro-angles in hostage scenarios. The guard was standing at a slight skew, his shoulder exposed past the IV pole.
Crack.
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The silenced report of my sidearm echoed sharply in the small room. The bullet shattered the plastic IV fluid bag inches from his hand, showering him with saline and startling him just enough to throw off his balance.
Before he could recover, I lunged forward, slamming the butt of my pistol against his temple. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
