One gunman near Butcher tried to swing a shotgun toward the lights and fire back. A sniper’s round hit his leg and dropped him hard into the mud with a scream.
Butcher, more experienced than the rest, reacted fast. He rolled behind the wheel of his SUV and pulled a compact rifle from under his coat. “Return fire! It’s a setup!” he yelled, spraying blind bursts into the dark.
Rounds hammered the side of the bus, kicking off sparks. In the driver’s seat, Sam wisely flattened himself to the floor and covered his head. Glass rained down around him, but the gang’s resistance was already collapsing.
This was not an even gunfight. It was a disciplined, professional suppression of an armed criminal group. The assault team advanced behind ballistic shields, steadily tightening the circle around the vehicles.
They moved as one machine. One pair pushed left, another right. Short bursts. Clear commands. “Suppress the shooter behind the vehicle!” Stone shouted, coordinating the flank.
The machine gunner with the heavy weapon opened up on Butcher’s cover. The rounds tore through the SUV’s body panels as if they were cardboard, turning the engine block into scrap. Stunned by ricochets and flying glass, Butcher tried to shift position.
That’s when a hard impact hit his chest and knocked the wind out of him. His body armor kept him alive, but he dropped flat on his back, gasping. A huge operator was on him a second later.
The whole fight lasted maybe two or three minutes. When the smoke cleared and the echoes died in the woods, not one gang member was still resisting. They all lay face down in the mud, wrists cinched behind them with plastic cuffs.
Some groaned. Some were in shock. Major Warren stepped into the bright wash of the spotlights and surveyed the clearing. He wasn’t even breathing hard. His weapon hung ready across his chest.
He walked past the rows of defeated men, taking in the scene. “Report,” he said.
“All targets neutralized,” the lieutenant answered at once. “A few injuries during the takedown. Rest are intact, just rattled. No casualties on our side. Bus has a couple new holes in it, but the driver’s fine.”
Warren nodded and stopped in front of Butcher, who was slowly coming around. The operators hauled the gang lieutenant upright and put him on his knees.
Butcher looked up at the major, dazed and furious in equal measure. He still couldn’t believe his crew had been rolled up so quickly. “Who are you people?” he rasped. “Do you have any idea whose business you just stepped into?”
Warren crouched in front of him and pulled off his mask. His face was calm, hard, and unreadable. “We’re the part where your luck runs out,” he said quietly. “And you’re going to tell me exactly whose business this is.”
