Chapter 28
RAID
Johnny
“U-uh—what?” Taylor slurred, squinting.
Johnny frowned at him in the glare of the oversaturated projector light.
Images of what looked like an overgrown barn deep in the woods flashed up on the screen.
Ivy had taken over the entire tin roof, and it had shitty, ramshackle fencing made out of pallets.
Isla had done some digging with the locals, and the rumour was that the government used to hide spies in it during the war.
The atmosphere in the briefing room was thicker than corn syrup, the stench of alpha pheromones getting worse the more people piled in. Taylor was fidgeting, both his legs beginning to bounce as he covered his mouth and nose with a hand.
Johnny butted their chairs together, wrapping his fingers around the nape of Taylor’s neck and not giving a shit who saw it.
Isla had managed to acquire over half the remaining Falkington night shift and a good chunk of the day shift too.
That pissed them off, because why help another division when you’ve got your own shit to do?
It didn’t help that some of the officers had been present when Johnny and Taylor were sacked from West Newton, and now they were looking at them down their noses.
It was awkward. They were making it awkward by laughing and whispering behind their backs.
“God, these guys are cunts,” Taylor muttered, digging a hand into his armpit.
Johnny sighed, patting the top of his knee. “Just get through it. Who gives a shit about them?”
“I’m with Tay on this one,” Amil said from his other side. “Pricks, all of—”
Someone shushed them, the light from the projector shutting off. “Any questions?” Isla asked, flicking the main lights back on.
Johnny blinked as he squinted around the room. They were thirty officers strong, which was a good number for a raid.
“Good,” Isla continued when no one raised their hand.
“We strike at six sharp. Dingly officers at the front, Falkington backing up. Anyone on that property is to be arrested without prejudice, and once the site is secured you are to assist the Environment Agency in whatever way they need. Oh, and wear masks, for the love of God.”
“Look at our girl,” Taylor whispered, inclining his head towards Isla. “Absolutely smashing it.”
Amil tutted. “She’s always been smashing it. It was everyone else that failed to notice.”
“Heard she’s a sigma,” another officer mumbled. “Probably off her rocker.”
All three of them jerked their heads round, Johnny’s eyebrows rising when he spotted the alpha sitting three seats down. He had a blonde buzz cut and a shitty sleeve tattoo on his left arm.
“The fuck do you know?” Amil said, sucking his teeth.
Isla cleared her throat in their direction, frowning as she handed out a list of call signs.
Arsehole, Taylor mouthed.
Everyone started milling around the room, collecting gear and confirming their duties. Isla wandered over, her face flushed and hair a little messy. “Was that okay?” she said, handing each of them a slip of paper with their call signs. “I was really nervous, but hopefully it didn’t show.”
“It didn’t,” Johnny said, squeezing her shoulder. “You did good.”
Amil nodded rapidly. “Really good.”
The car park had an eerily quiet air about it as they all piled into an unmarked riot van. Everyone was in full kit, which left barely any space to breathe. The stench of wound-up alphas was fucking pungent, and Johnny felt Taylor press against him as they set off.
Johnny’s heart was going like the clappers.
Something had changed in him after the attack, like his brain had switched off from the job and now all he wanted was to protect the pack.
As he’d pulled on his uniform that morning, a deep dread had twisted in his gut, making him hate the thought of coming to work.
Sure, he’d been assaulted on duty before—lots of times, actually, when he was fresh in the job and didn’t fully understand how rapidly shit could hit the fan. But things were different. They were different, and he knew Taylor could feel it too.
They weren’t trying to keep up with each other anymore, and Johnny wasn’t waking up feeling drained by his buried feelings. For the last few days Taylor had been reassuring him constantly about tiny, insignificant things. “Breakfast was amazing this morning, JP.” “Looking strong, baby.”
And, in some messed up way, it felt good to feel anxious because he realised now that Taylor wasn’t going to lose his shit when Johnny felt that way, and that maybe he didn’t need to be the strong one all the time.
“Alright?” Taylor whispered, squeezing his gloved hand and bringing him back to the present.
Sighing, Johnny squeezed back. “Yeah, I’m good. You sure you’re gonna be okay with Amil and the sarge?”
Taylor grinned. “Oh yeah. We’ve agreed Amil’s going in first. He’ll be like a fuzzy little gremlin rolling in with a pair of bolt cutters.”
Johnny smirked, glancing across the van at Amil, who was in the process of dressing down an alpha who’d dared to get up in his personal space.
They rolled around a corner and cut up onto a narrow track into the woods.
Everyone went silent as low-hanging trees brushed the van windows.
They’d disguised the van as a courier and blacked out all the windows so no one could see inside.
It wasn’t a perfect plan, but the closer they could get to the strike zone without alerting anyone, the better.
The van rolled to a stop, then the sound of heated voices drifted into the back.
“This is it,” Isla whispered, sliding down the visor on her riot helmet. “If they’ve clocked us, we might have to pile out here and run up to the address.”
Taylor let out a breath, tapping the top of Johnny’s helmet with his knuckles. He toed the battering ram at his feet and said, “Don’t worry, me and Big Bee are ready.”
The voices suddenly fell away, the beeps and clicks of walkie-talkies cutting through the quiet before the van juddered and they were on the move again.
Isla let out a shuddering breath. “About thirty seconds,” she whispered, pulling on a face mask. “Mask up.”
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Taylor said, cracking his neck and heaving the battering ram onto one shoulder.
“Stop showing off,” Amil whisper-shouted across from the other side of the van.
Taylor grinned, shaking the battering ram in his direction. “Get some fire in your belly.”
Amil shushed him, waving a hand as he tugged a mask over his chin.
“Go get ’em, tiger,” Johnny whispered, kissing Taylor’s cheek before flipping down his visor. “And don’t do anything dangerous.”
Taylor winked, gripping the handrail above them. “Would I ever?”
“Yes,” Amil hissed. “And if you do, JP has given me permission to use the bolt cutters on your balls.” He cracked the metal handles together as if to prove his point.
There was a rumble of laughter, followed by a lot more shushing as Taylor shot him a disgruntled look. And Johnny had been about to settle back into the rocking motion of the van when something smashed against the side window.
“Strike!” Isla screamed, nearly blowing Johnny’s ear drums out as she threw open the back doors.
It all became white noise and a rush of movement as they piled out of the van, a dozen boots pounding on mud and gravel, thin branches whipping across Johnny’s face as trees crowded the track.
He gripped the back of Taylor’s utility belt, not wanting to lose him amongst the chaos until the very last second.
They cut through the bushes, circling the track and surrounding clearing as another dozen wolves burst from between the trees.
The other half of the strike team. They clashed with the snarling faces and foaming mouths of seven or eight guard dogs, and the clearing filled with deafening barks and howls. Lupine versus canine.
Someone whistled, and suddenly the dogs’ long chains scraped across the ground as they were let loose. They went barrelling back into the woods, sending masses of birds into the air like dark clouds.
“I’m off,” Taylor said, reaching back to squeeze Johnny’s hand one final time before breaking off towards the front. Johnny watched him go, glancing at Isla and Amil as they pulled in tight to his sides.
“There they go,” Wendy said, both of them slowing as Falkington officers rushed past.
They disappeared behind the ramshackle fences, and suddenly there were shouts and screams coming from within the building.
The thud of Taylor’s battering ram reverberated through the air, making Johnny’s heart thump even harder.
He felt sick, physically fucking sick, and he knew with absolute certainty that he was resigning when all was said and done.
This wasn’t his world anymore, it was Taylor’s. And he felt pretty okay about that.
“Police!” came Taylor’s booming voice, the sound of it making sickness in Johnny’s stomach rapidly dissolve as cold, hard adrenaline took over.
There was another thud, a shout from an upstairs window, and as Johnny rounded the corner shards of wood and metal sprayed towards him.
“Police! Stand back!” Taylor commanded, smashing the metal door one last time and sending it flying off its hinges. And fuck, if Johnny didn’t feel just a tiny bit weak at the knees watching Taylor in that moment.
Suddenly a corrugated side door swung open and two scrawny men in dirty clothes came barrelling out.
There was a moment where Johnny’s feet planted themselves, and he felt like he couldn’t move.
The world seemed to shift in slow motion as dread crept into his muscles.
He was scared, he wasn’t so macho that he couldn’t admit that.
But, if Sam and Frodo had taught him anything, it was that true bravery meant you saddled up anyway.
“Here!” Johnny called, dragging his eyes away from Taylor and vaulting over a rotten, fallen tree trunk. Pain shot up his arm as he landed with a slippery squelch.