Chapter 45
Alex
The bullpen is loud in its usual way with phones ringing, keyboards clacking, and someone arguing two desks over about jurisdiction. None of it matters.
I’m half-listening to Mason go over a report, eyes scanning a map spread across the desk between us about warehouse routes, movement patterns, and dead zones.
“We’re missing something,” he says, tapping the paper. “They’re not just grabbing randomly. There’s a flow-”
The radio on the far desk crackles. No one pays attention at first. It’s background noise. Routine. Then-
“-Unit 12-” static cuts through the room. “-EMT down. Requesting immediate-”
Everything stops. The room shifts, chairs scrape, and heads turn.
“Repeat traffic,” dispatch snaps.
The voice comes back, broken, and strained. “-shot-” more static. “-send PD-”
Mason’s already moving.
“Address?” I demand.
Dispatch answers before the room fully catches up. “All units, respond. Officer assist, EMT shot, possible active scene-”
The location hits. And something in my chest drops out completely.
We’re moving before the call finishes.
“Let’s go,” Mason barks, grabbing his jacket.
I don’t respond. I’m already halfway to the door.
Sirens scream as we tear through traffic, lights carving through the dark.
“Unit 12,” Mason mutters, piecing it together. “Maybe she’s with someone else today. Or she and Scott took a different rig…”
I don’t answer. Because there’s only one unit I care about. Only one person. And the address…
“Alex,” Mason says, sharper now. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”
Too late.
The scene hits before we even fully stop. Flashing lights, gunfire, and chaos.
“Shots fired!” someone yells as we bail out of the car.
Multiple units are already on scene, using vehicles as cover, with returning fire down the narrow street.
“Where?” Mason shouts.
“Ambulance!” an officer points. “They walked into it. Looks like an ambush!”
My eyes snap to the rig. Doors open, lights still flashing, and blood on the pavement.
I move, fast and low, gun drawn.
Training takes over, even as something violent claws up my spine. Two suspects break from cover, one going down under return fire while the other ducks behind a car. I don’t stop.
“Thornton!” Mason calls behind me. “Left side!”
I pivot just enough to track movement, fire once, twice… The figure drops. Not clear if dead. It doesn’t matter.
I keep moving. The closer I get, the worse it looks. More blood than there should be. One body on the ground in an EMS uniform, a puddle of blood emanating from his leg.
My pulse quickens. I drop beside him, realizing its Scott, one knee hitting pavement hard. I check his pulse; it’s fast but definitely there. Alive… barely.
“Hey. Hey, stay with me,” I mutter.
His eyes flutter. “Liv-” he chokes.
My stomach drops. No way around it now; she was in Unit 12 today. “Where is she?” I demand.
His hand twitches weakly toward the ambulance. “-took-” his voice breaks. “He-”
Gunfire cracks again, too close.
I grab his arms, dragging him behind the engine block of a squad car. “Stay down,” I snap to the nearest officer. “He’s alive.”
“Copy!”
I’m already moving again. The ambulance looms ahead. Driver door open. One of the back doors swings slightly on its hinge. There’s movement inside.
My grip tightens on my weapon. “Cover me!” I shout.
“Go!”
I move in, fast and tight to the vehicle. Another shot rings out. As soon as it does, pain explodes through my shoulder. It hits like a hammer, sharp and blinding.
My left arm jerks, grip faltering for half a second before instinct clamps it back down. Through-and-through or graze… doesn’t matter.
I pivot, dropping behind the rear wheel, breath punching out of me.
“Thornton, you hit?” Mason’s voice cuts through the chaos.
“I’m good,” I grit out automatically. A lie.
But I’m still moving. Still breathing, and that’s enough.
I force my right arm to compensate, steadying my aim as I rise just enough to clear the angle.
The shooter ducks back. It’s an opportunity so I move.
The back of the ambulance is right there, close enough now to see inside.
And for a split second, time slows. Liv, pinned against the bench, struggling but alive. Relief slams into me so hard it almost knocks the breath out of me.
Then I see him. York. Standing over her, calm and controlled. Like the gunfire around him doesn’t exist.
Then he moves, deeper into the ambulance and out of sight.
“No!” I surge forward. Gunfire erupts again from the right, too close.
I’m forced back, dropping to one knee as rounds ping off metal inches from my head.
“Thornton!” Mason grabs my vest, hauling me sideways into cover. “You’re exposed!”
“He’s got her,” I snap, trying to shove past him.
“I saw!” he fires back. “But you’re no good to her dead!”
Another volley of shots rips through the street. Officers return fire. The scene is a full-blown shootout now. And I’m stuck outside the one place that matters.
I grit my teeth, forcing myself to think.
“They’re using the rig as cover,” I say, breathing hard. “At least three shooters still active.”
“I’ve got two units flanking,” Mason replies, already tracking. “We push together.”
I shake my head. “No time.”
“Alex-”
“They move her, we lose her.”
He pulls back, thoughts warring in his mind. He’s quiet for a moment. Then, he says, “fine.” Mason exhales hard. “On your go.”
I shift, ignoring the burning in my shoulder. Blood’s soaking through my sleeve now. It’s irrelevant. All of it is irrelevant.
There’s only one thing that matters.
Liv is in that ambulance. And I’m getting her out.