7 Seconds Criminal Minds Novels & Stories

Micah's panicked voice echoed through the speaker. Dante swiftly typed on the computer, and a shared screen appeared. A gasp escaped my lips as I stumbled backwards, my eyes fixed on the screen. There it was—a timer, its numbers ticking away ominously. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized the gravity of the situation. The timer displayed one hour and forty-seven minutes. Were the bombs already placed? The thought sent a chill down my spine, and I felt a sense of urgency gripping me like a vice. “I can’t leave Silvio here.” I shook my head as Dante looked pleadingly at him.

Allie Saturday morning, 7:00 AM. The time when it all happened. It happened so fast that I didn't even have time to process what was happening, what was happening to me at that very moment. I get out of bed with difficulty and sit up, I rest my hand on my chest and cough in desperation as I struggle against my lungs to be able to breathe, it's not anxiety, it's my illness acting against me, doing its thing. Mom comes running into my room and talks to me but I don't hear her, all my senses are focused on finding more oxygen so I can breathe but despite my attempts I can't do it, it's all in vain.

I watch her till I can't see her anymore and my lips curled up in a sick smile. Finally. I bide my time, waiting till I see her start to lock up. Just like I knew all along, she lives upstairs. From my visit earlier, I noticed there were no alarms, just flimsy locks around the door. Fucking stupid. Does she care that little about her safety? Not like an alarm could keep me out anyway, I'd get in under five minutes. But how about other intruders? Just a measly deadbolt lock- I learnt how to pick that and relock it like it was never tampered with, when I was fourteen.

She felt isolated, but safe at the same time. She sat there on the steps for a while just trying to calm and center herself. Things had been so off lately. Almost nothing made any sense to her anymore. She had heard that growing up was hard to do. But the things that had happened in the last twenty-four plus hours just took the cake. She didn't want to think about anything really. So she focused completely on clearing her mind. She sat there for a long while just staring at the moon. Eventually, the damp air made her feel chilled to the bone and she began to shiver.

I replied sarcastically. He glared at me. "If you have any ideas feel free to share." I twisted my lips, looking back at the paper. "Okay sect could be a part of the city. Sector 7, um house number 4." "Yes, and those numbers could be the ages of people living in there who are all criminals." Mike added excitedly. I rolled my eyes at him, sending him an unimpressed look. "Really? A 2-year-old kid is a criminal and a 94-year-old man?"

Cassia stared at the clock on the wall as it struck midnight, her palms slick with nervous sweat. The card in her pocket was a constant reminder of what was coming. Room 7. Midnight. Live demonstration. The words had burned into her skin since the moment he handed it to her.

"I can't. Not until we're sure. But Mikhail, you need to be very careful who you trust. Until we catch Lucian, until we stop Protocol Seven, everyone is a suspect." I looked around the room at the faces of my men, my family, my wife. One of them was a traitor. One of them had been working with Lucian Winters, feeding him information, helping him plan our destruction. "How long do we have?" Liliana asked. "Hours, maybe less," Dmitri replied. "The final message mentioned a timeline. Protocol Seven goes into effect at dawn." I checked my watch. It was already past midnight. We had maybe five hours to find Lucian Winters and stop whatever he had planned.

“Fine. Seven days, Alpha Carter. Use them well.” I gave him a cutting smile. “Thanks for this, Blackstone. I won’t forget it.” He heard the promise in my words, and he gulped, holding on to his smug posturing for his aides. As they swept out of the room, I felt the weight settle deeper into my spine. Seven days. To prove I wasn’t a criminal. To clear my name. And find whoever the fuck made the grave mistake of framing me.

“Mind if I call you Laurel?” She hesitated, then nodded. “That’s fine.” He wasn’t what she expected. Not the cold, clipped kind of officer she’d pictured when Asher told her about the investigation. His eyes were sharp but not cruel, gray, steady, searching. His voice was even, carrying a quiet patience that unnerved her more than anger would have. He flipped open the folder, the soft rustle of papers cutting through the hum of the lights. “You’ve been off the grid for seven years,” he said. “That takes skill. You know why you’re here, right?”