S.A.S.
He leapt from the car, extinguisher in hand—but it was already too late.
He radioed in, voice flat.
“Police. Now. We need a cleanup team.”
Hours later, yellow tape crisscrossed the lot. Drones buzzed overhead. CSI teams worked under floodlights, cataloguing blood trails, bullet casings, and ash.
Six body bags lined the pavement like broken promises.
Jack stood in the center, surrounded by death.
His team—his family—gone.
He stared at the bodies, eyes cold and hollow.
“What the hell am I going to do?”
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