Bellum watched as Owen and Monica pulled assault rifles from their bags.
Instinctively, he backed away. He wanted no part of the incoming gunfight.
Alex, on the other hand, looked excited.
Owen found it disgusting.
He punched Alex's already broken nose.
It wasn't a hard hit, but tears welled up in Alex's eyes from the pain.
"Sorry, I have to do this. It's for your own good."
Bellum froze.
For a moment, he thought Owen was about to kill him to eliminate a witness.
Instead, Owen handcuffed Bellum's hands behind his back and shoved him into the bathroom tub.
Then, he stuffed a towel into his mouth.
Now, he looked exactly like a hostage.
Owen did this to protect him.
If Bellum was left wandering around the apartment, the mercenaries would probably shoot him—either thinking he was helping Owen, or simply out of habit.
But if he looked like a hostage, they would likely ignore him.
Not kill him. Not rescue him.
Just leave him there.
Which meant he'd survive.
—
Meanwhile, Monica had been watching the street.
As Owen finished dealing with Bellum, she called out.
"More incoming."
Owen turned just in time to see a new group of men exiting their vehicles.
"We're going to the roof."
He grabbed his gear and signaled for Monica and Alex to move.
He also stuffed Bellum's phone into his pocket.
He could use it to call Bryan Mills once they got out.
Using the rooftops was a planned escape route.
The buildings were low and packed close together.
They could jump across rooftops to reach another exit.
But just as they were about to leave—
Another convoy arrived.
The narrow street was already full, and the new vehicles braked hard to avoid crashing.
At first, Owen didn't recognize them.
But then, at the very back, he saw a BearCat G3 SWAT vehicle.
"FBI SWAT."
C-Team.
It had to be C-Team.
Today had been a disaster.
A-Team was wrecked.
B-Team was wiped out.
D-Team were all snipers. They could only support—not lead.
Which meant C-Team was the only full SWAT unit left.
Sure enough, SWAT officers poured out of the vehicle.
Even though they wore masks, Monica recognized two of them.
Definitely C-Team members.
—
Ten minutes earlier…
FBI Intelligence analysts had reconstructed Owen's escape route.
They had tracked his stolen vehicle to Park Street.
But then—
The commanding officer, Farrell, had gone completely silent.
With no one to take orders from, the Intelligence unit had escalated the situation directly to Walter McCall.
McCall didn't hesitate.
He sent elite FBI agents and SWAT's last active unit.
Now, they had arrived—
And ran straight into a mercenary team.
—
The moment the two sides saw each other—
Gunfire erupted.
The mercenaries were experienced fighters.
Even though they were outnumbered, they immediately took control of the firefight.
Unlike the masked attackers from earlier, these mercenaries wore matching uniforms.
Desert combat suits, tactical vests, and body armor.
Instead of helmets, they wore baseball caps.
Owen recognized their gear—it matched the two mercenaries he had just killed upstairs.
They were all part of the same group.
He realized why they had hesitated earlier.
They had tracked Owen's location but didn't know the exact apartment.
So they had sent scouts to search room by room.
Other apartments had probably been broken into.
Since all their weapons were silenced, no one had noticed.
Owen felt a chill.
If he hadn't scattered glass on the floor, they might have gotten the drop on him.
—
Outside, the firefight intensified.
The FBI agents were losing.
The four mercenaries pinned them down immediately.
One FBI vehicle exploded.
But the moment SWAT joined the fight—
The situation flipped.
The mercenaries were now pinned down.
Each of them had at least five guns aimed at them.
They could barely return fire.
Muzzle flashes lit up the night as bullets rained down on them.
But then—
Muzzle flashes erupted from the second-floor windows.
Mercenaries who had been searching the building had now joined the fight.
The balance shifted again.
Now, both sides had equal firepower.
—
But none of that mattered to Owen anymore.
He, Monica, and Alex were already running down the hallway.
—
Alex's clothes had been provided by the FBI.
And the tracking device had been found inside his belt.
Which meant—
The mole was inside the FBI.
And high-ranking.
That meant the police department was off the hook.
For the first time all day, Owen felt slightly better.
—
"Wait."
The old apartment building only had two staircases.
No elevator.
No fire escape.
They were heading toward the west staircase.
But just as they approached, Owen froze.
He heard something.
He yanked Monica back.
Seconds later—
Hurried footsteps.
Someone was coming up the stairs.
The door pushed open.
A gunman stepped through—
Owen struck fast.
A sharp palm strike to the throat.
The gunman gasped, clutching his neck.
Owen didn't waste time.
He aimed past him and fired twice.
Pfft! Pfft!
The second gunman collapsed.
Owen then finished off the first guy with a bullet to the head.
Stepping over the bodies, they kept moving.
—
They were already on the third floor.
Only one more flight to the roof.
Ten seconds.
The roof access door was locked.
Owen took a step back—
And fired at the lock.
—
There were two ways to break open a door with a gun.
One—shoot the lock directly.
But sometimes, even if the lock is destroyed, the door doesn't budge.
Two—shoot the connection between the lock and the doorframe.
This was much easier.
Owen chose the second method.
"BANG."
The wooden frame splintered.
The door swung open.
—
The rooftop gave them a full view of the gunfight below.
FBI agents and SWAT clashed with the mercenaries.
Monica watched the battle, then looked at Owen.
"We're not staying, right?"
Owen shook his head.
"Hell no."
The FBI had sent backup.
But Owen didn't trust them anymore.
He wasn't even sure if SWAT was clean.
For now, they had only one plan.
Run.
_________________________
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