Counterterrorism in America

Bryan's tone grew increasingly severe. With each word, he stepped closer to the scrawny man, who backed away nervously. Suddenly, Bryan turned and addressed the rest of the group in the room.

"Forget 10%. Now it's 20%. And if you're unhappy, I'll keep raising it. Or better yet, I could end this negotiation right now, let GIPN storm in here, and send you all to the gallows. Oh, wait—France doesn't have the death penalty anymore. Well, I suppose we'll just shoot you for resisting arrest."

The men around him clenched their jaws in fury. They wanted to kill this arrogant bastard on the spot, but none of them dared act on it. They knew full well what GIPN—France's elite tactical unit—was capable of. If they went to war with that kind of force, they'd be wiped out in minutes.

After a tense pause, the bearded man Bryan had identified as Mark finally spoke up.

"Enough with the threats. Just tell us how much you want."

Bryan had been observing this man closely. Though the group seemed to operate without a clear hierarchy, everyone instinctively deferred to Mark during moments of decision.

"20% on top of the current rate," Bryan stated calmly. "And that's for the next year. After that, we'll renegotiate."

Mark muttered a curse under his breath and nodded to the scrawny man, who reluctantly retrieved a box from a nearby cabinet. Mark took out two stacks of cash and threw them onto the table. Bryan picked up the money, weighed it briefly in his hands, and smiled before tucking it away.

"Good. I'm satisfied with the outcome of this negotiation. Someone else will come by next month to collect. Be ready."

Meanwhile, Owen's search was growing increasingly desperate. Despite the numerous rooms he had checked, neither Amanda nor Kim were anywhere to be found. Most of the rooms were either empty or occupied by unconscious girls in various states of drug-induced stupor.

Finally, he encountered a glimmer of hope: Cynthia. She was tied to a bed, with needle marks on her arm. Though unconscious, she was still alive.

"Cynthia? Wake up!" Owen called as he gently slapped her face. When that didn't work, he grabbed a nearby cup of water and splashed it on her. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open.

"Cynthia, can you hear me? It's me—Amanda's brother. Where are Amanda and Kim? Do you know where they are?"

Cynthia's gaze was unfocused. She mumbled incoherently until Owen pinched her under her arm, jolting her awake.

"Amanda... and Kim... I don't know... They separated us. I've been in this room the whole time..."

Owen's heart sank. He untied Cynthia and helped her sit up. She was weak and disoriented, but he needed her to stay quiet and hidden.

"Listen, I need you to stay here. Don't make any noise. I'm going to find Amanda and Kim. I'll come back for you soon."

Cynthia whimpered in fear, clutching at Owen's arm, but he gently pulled away and slipped out of the room.

Back in the dining room, Bryan leisurely sipped his coffee. He appeared ready to leave but suddenly paused, as if remembering something.

"Oh, before I go... One more question. Those girls you kidnapped—where do you sell them?"

"That's none of your business," Mark growled.

"Well, that's not a very friendly response. It's making me uncomfortable."

"You're not going to try raising the price again, are you?"

Suddenly, gunshots echoed through the building.

Bang! Bang!

Everyone froze. Bryan seized the moment to step behind the scrawny man and pull the gun from his waistband.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

More shots rang out in rapid succession. Bryan fired clean, precise shots, hitting each of the men in the room but avoiding lethal areas. He wanted them alive—at least for now. They might still have valuable information about the girls' whereabouts.

With the situation under control, Bryan disarmed the remaining thugs, tossing their weapons aside. He positioned himself strategically behind Mark, using him as a human shield. The men groaned in pain, bleeding from their wounds, but they were effectively incapacitated.

Moments later, several armed gang members burst into the room, only to be met with a hail of gunfire from Bryan. Caught off guard, they crumpled to the floor before they could even process what was happening. One of the wounded men on the ground tried to reach for a hidden weapon, but Bryan shot him in the other leg, leaving him writhing in agony.

More gang members charged in, including the bald enforcer from earlier. One by one, Bryan gunned them down, using the captured gang leaders as cover. The ambush was a massacre, leaving the room littered with bodies.

In the corridor, Owen was engaged in his own firefight. He took out two men with precise shots before taking cover around a corner. More gangsters appeared, rushing toward him. Owen grabbed the arm of one attacker, using him as a shield while firing at the others.

Bang! Bang!

Once the immediate threats were neutralized, Owen pressed his gun to the head of the man he was holding and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked—empty. Without hesitation, Owen discarded the empty weapon and grabbed another from one of the fallen gangsters.

Hearing footsteps approaching from a nearby staircase, Owen readied himself. He waited until the moment was right, then stepped out and fired, hitting the assailant in both legs. Before the man could recover, Owen finished him off with two more shots.

He scavenged additional weapons from the bodies and checked his surroundings. The dark hallway led to a hidden room he hadn't noticed earlier. Inside, he found stacks of white powder—heroin.

Next to the drugs lay scattered syringes, likely the very tools used to keep the kidnapped girls under control.

Owen clenched his jaw in fury. He was running out of time, and he still hadn't found Amanda.

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