Chapter 2 - Five Minutes, Five Black SUVs
The next five minutes felt like an eternity inside that suffocating kitchen. Frank stood over me, his heavy black boots inches away from my face, his gun still loosely pointed at my back. He was pacing back and forth, trying to convince himself that he was the one in control.
"You're a fraud, Evelyn," Frank muttered, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and growing anxiety. "You always have been. Coming back here with your fancy talk and your secrets. You think you're better than this town? Better than me?"
"Frank, let her up," my mother begged, tears finally streaming down her pale cheeks. "She's my daughter. Please, this has gone too far."
"Stay out of this, Ellen!" Frank yelled, spinning around to point a finger at her. "She's a criminal. She's using fake military gear. I'm doing my job. Ashford needs to know what kind of liar she really is."
Kyle was still holding his phone, but he wasn't smiling anymore. He looked out the front window, his brow furrowed. "Hey, Dad? What is that?"
Before Frank could answer, the distant roar of high-powered engines echoed through the quiet suburban neighborhood. It wasn't the sound of standard police cruisers. It was a heavy, synchronized rumble that vibrated right through the floorboards of the kitchen.
"What did you do, Evelyn?" Frank hissed, looking down at me.
I didn't say a word. I just kept my cheek pressed against the cold tile, listening.
Suddenly, the screech of heavy tires tearing into the front lawn shattered the silence. Five massive, jet-black SUVs tore through the manicured grass, completely ignoring the driveway. They came to a violent halt in a perfect tactical formation, surrounding the house. The doors flew open simultaneously.
"Police! Nobody move!" Frank shouted out of habit, running toward the front door, drawing his weapon once again.
But he never made it to the porch. The front door didn't just open—it exploded inward, shattered off its hinges by a heavy tactical battering ram. A dozen men clad in full black body armor, carrying customized assault rifles with laser sights, flooded the hallway. They wore no police badges. On their shoulders was the distinct insignia of the United States Army Special Forces, alongside federal tactical gear.
"Drop your weapon! Drop it now!" a voice boomed through the house, amplified by pure authority.
Frank froze, his pistol raised. "I am a police officer! This is my house!"
In less than a second, a laser dot painted Frank’s chest. A massive operative slammed Frank against the wall, disarming him with a swift, brutal twist of the wrist. Frank screamed in pain as his gun clattered to the floor. Within seconds, he was pinned to the ground, his face pressed against the same floor he had forced me onto just moments earlier.
Kyle dropped his cell phone. It shattered on the ground. He put his hands on his head, terrified, dropping to his knees. My mother collapsed into a chair, sobbing uncontrollably.
A tall man in a crisp civilian suit stepped through the ruined doorway, walking right past the groaning Frank. It was Special Agent Vance from the Defense Intelligence Agency. He walked straight into the kitchen, knelt down beside me, and produced a key, quickly unlocking the handcuffs Frank had placed on me.
"Are you alright, General Voss?" Vance asked, his face etched with deep concern.
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I stood up, rubbing my wrists, and wiped the blood from my lip with the back of my hand. I looked down at Frank, who was staring up at me with wide, terrified eyes. The color had completely drained from his face.
"I am fine, Agent Vance," I said, my voice echoing clearly in the ruined house. "Secure the perimeter. No one leaves this house."
