Chapter 14 – Thiago
Fourteen
Thiago
I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want whatever you think this is or could have been. It can’t be. And it won’t ever.
I’m halfway through clearing the second room when I hesitate. Her words replay in my head, followed closely by the commander’s warning in the parking lot. I haven’t shaken either of them off, and now they’re fucking with my focus.
“Again,” Grey snaps from behind me.
I reset and force my attention back where it belongs, sweeping the room, checking every corner, and clearing every angle. Everything has to be clean because hesitation in the field gets people killed.
The irony isn’t lost on me.
I spend my days protecting lives, and another part of my life takes them. I’ve always been able to reconcile the two because Helios doesn’t send me after innocent people. The names they hand me belong to men and women who leave bodies behind, all without losing a second of sleep.
At least, that’s what I’ve always believed.
Then Remi happened.
Helios wants me to see the Cain name and everything attached to it. The violence and bloodshed.
But I’ve also seen Remi with Zara.
I’ve watched the same woman Helios considers dangerous drop to her knees for a little girl, tease her, hold her, and look at her with nothing but love.
Maybe those things can exist in the same person. They exist in me.
“Braga, focus,” Ryan calls from the doorway.
“I am,” I shoot back, already moving into the next room.
This time, I push everything else aside and focus on the drill. I check the corners, clear the angles, and move faster, but the distraction is still there, waiting for the second I give it room.
“Clear,” I call out as I step back.
“About time,” Grey mutters.
I ignore him, grab my helmet, and toss it onto the bench as we cycle out of the drill. Sweat clings to my skin and soaks through my shirt as I rake a hand through my hair and head for the lockers.
Hurried footsteps follow me into the locker room.
“Hey, T, you good?” Ryan asks.
“Yeah.”
He snorts. “Bullshit.”
I don’t respond as I pop open my locker and reach for my towel.
“You’ve been off all morning.” He continues. “You missed a shot on the first run. That never happens.”
“It happened,” I say flatly, wiping the sweat from my neck.
Ryan leans against the locker beside mine, studying me as if he’s deciding how far he wants to push.
“Gym girl?”
My hand pauses over the towel. “What?”
His expression tells me all I need to know.
Fucking Grey.
“Don’t listen to him. He’s just being a dick.”
Ryan’s a decent guy. We’ve gotten close since I joined the unit, gone out for drinks, and done all the usual bro shit, but I’m hoping he can read the room well enough to know that Remi isn’t a subject I want to discuss.
“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Ryan says with a shrug. “But the way he described her, she sounds a lot like the woman from the range. Is she?”
I shut my locker harder than necessary.
Ryan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh shit, she is.” A grin spreads across his face. “Okay, now I get why you’ve been distracted. You two had something going on that night, didn’t you?”
“Drop it.”
“I’m just saying, you practically disappeared with her, and now Grey says you nearly bit his head off for trying to talk to her. Doesn’t take a detective.”
“Ryan.”
He raises his hands. “Yeah, all right. I’m done.”
The look on Ryan’s face tells me he’s not finished thinking about it. I’m about to shut the subject down for good when a voice cuts through the locker room from the speaker.
“All units, listen up. We’ve got a robbery in progress at a downtown bank. Suspects are armed with possible hostages inside.”
Everything changes.
Whatever was happening in my head disappears as the room erupts into motion. We move as a unit, grabbing our gear and preparing to roll out as years of training take over.
By the time we arrive, the scene is already in chaos.
Patrol cars crowd the street, their lights flashing as officers hold civilians back behind barricades.
People spill onto the sidewalk, some crying while others stand frozen, staring at the bank as if waiting for someone they love to walk through the doors.
I step out of the vehicle and take in the scene, filtering through the sirens and shouting as I search for what matters.
“Braga,” our team lead calls, moving toward the perimeter. “Three armed suspects. They came in hot and opened fire. We’ve got multiple hostages still inside, possibly children.”
“How many?” I ask, falling into step with him.
“Unknown. Bank employees and civilians. Last report has them being held near the main floor.”
I curse under my breath as I scan the building, checking every window and reflection for signs of movement.
“Any contact?” Ryan asks from behind me.
“Minimal. They aren’t interested in negotiating yet. They’ve made only one thing clear. They’re willing to start killing hostages.”
My heartbeat pounds hard and fast as I look at the bank. This is the part training can’t make ordinary, knowing there are people inside waiting for us to get through those doors before gunmen decide they’ve run out of time.
I adjust my vest and check my weapon.
“All right.” The lead continues, turning to face us. “We go in, take control, and get those people out. Clean and fast. No mistakes.”
My attention shifts to the bank’s entrance. The glass doors are shattered, and beyond them, the interior is almost pitch-dark.
“Lights are out,” Ryan says.
“They want the advantage,” I reply, adjusting my grip. “They know the building. We don’t.”
Our lead nods. “Then we take it away. Night vision on. Stay tight.”
I lower my visor, and the darkness gives way as the interior comes into view.
“Stack up.”
We move into position behind him, weapons raised, each of us covering our assigned sector.
“On me.”
We breach the shattered entrance, glass crunching beneath our boots as we funnel inside. The sirens and shouting outside fade behind us, replaced by my team’s controlled breathing and the muted sounds from my comms.
We find the first casualty before we make it far. A security officer lies face down near the entrance, blood pooled beneath his head. I drop to the floor beside him and check for a pulse.
“Nothing,” I say, pushing myself back to my feet. “Security is down.”
“Copy. Keep moving.”
The lobby opens in front of us. Desks are overturned, papers cover the floor, and blood streaks a white column before trailing across the tile.
Whatever threat they made outside wasn’t empty.
“Clear left,” I say, sweeping my sector.
“Right clear,” Ryan answers.
We advance through the lobby, checking every angle and blind spot as we move. My pulse remains steady, my body falling into the rhythm drilled into me over years of doing this.
Movement draws my attention to the left corridor.
“Contact,” I warn.
A shot rings out, shattering what remains of the glass behind us.
“Cover,” our lead barks.
We break formation and take cover as rounds tear above our heads. I position myself behind a concrete pillar and lean out just far enough to search for the shooter.
“Left side, behind the column,” Ryan calls.
“I see him.”
I adjust my angle and wait. Another muzzle flash cuts through the darkness, giving me exactly what I need.
I fire.
The suspect drops, but a second later, he starts crawling toward the gun that fell beside him. I fire again before he can reach it, and his body goes still.
“Suspect down,” I confirm.
“Second contact, right,” Grey calls.
Gunfire erupts from deeper inside the bank, and rounds strike the wall close enough to send debris flying across my shoulder.
“Moving,” I call.
Ryan covers me as I shift positions, and we advance together, cutting off the suspect and pushing him back.
“Drop the weapon!” our lead commands.
The suspect responds with another burst of gunfire, and then I see what’s behind him. A handful of hostages are huddled on the floor. Some are bleeding, others are holding on to each other, but every one of them is still alive.
Adjusting my position, I search for a clean angle that won’t put any of them in the line of fire. We need to end this without another casualty.
I step into the opening he gives me and take the shot, sending him crashing to the floor.
“Clear,” I call, scanning for movement.
“Clear,” Ryan echoes.
“Hold positions,” our lead orders.
I control my breathing and keep my attention on the room. Two suspects are down, but one remains unaccounted for. That’s when I hear it.
A child is crying somewhere beyond the lobby, the broken sound carrying from a corridor opposite the group of hostages.
“There,” I say, motioning toward the dim hallway.
We move together, following the cries deeper into the bank.
When we round the corner onto the main floor, the full extent of what happened here comes into view.
Bodies are scattered across the floor. Some people lie completely still, while others are curled in on themselves, trembling, their hands covering their heads.
“Police.” Our lead’s voice is firm. “Stay down and keep your hands where we can see them.”
No one moves beyond a few frightened glances our way, and the crying continues.
There’s still one armed suspect in here, and judging by the bodies around us, he hasn’t hesitated to use his weapon. I sweep the room, searching every doorway and shadow before my gaze falls on a small figure crouched near the far side of the room.
Caramel-colored curls.
No fucking way.
I look more closely, and recognition hits me, knocking the air from my lungs.
“Zara?” I whisper.
“Braga?” Grey questions.
I don’t answer right away. I force myself to check our surroundings again before my attention snaps back to Zara
She’s crouched on the floor, blood coating her skin and clothes. One of her tiny hands is wrapped around someone else’s, their body mostly hidden behind a broken piece of furniture.
They aren’t moving, and a sickening thought tears through me.
What if that’s Remi?