ʚɞ 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐬 - 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 ʚɞ

16 | birds of a feather

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Tim and I sat in the cold, dimly lit room, trying to draw strength from each other's presence. My mind was a whirlwind of worry and fear, and every minute that passed felt like an eternity. Tim's bruised face and tired eyes haunted me, a constant reminder of the precariousness of our situation.

The door burst open suddenly, startling us both. In walked Petrovich, his face twisted into a cruel smile. "Enjoying your reunion?" he sneered.

Before I could muster a response, the sound of a loud crash echoed from somewhere within the building. Petrovich's eyes darted towards the door, confusion and annoyance marring his features.

"What the—" he began, but he was cut off by the unmistakable sound of gunfire and shouts echoing through the hallways. My heart leaped with hope, but I also felt a surge of fear for whoever was storming the building.

Petrovich turned back to us, his eyes narrowing. "Stay here," he barked, then rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I turned to Tim, my pulse racing. "Tim, do you think it's them? Do you think they've come to rescue us?"

Tim nodded, a spark of hope in his weary eyes. "It has to be. I knew Grey wouldn't leave us hanging."

We both strained our ears, listening to the chaotic sounds outside. The door burst open once more, and this time, a familiar figure stood framed in the doorway, gun in hand.

"LAPD! Hands up!" Sergeant Grey commanded, his voice authoritative and unwavering.

Relief washed over me like a tidal wave. "Sergeant Grey!" I cried, tears of gratitude spilling from my eyes.

Behind Grey, Angela Lopez and Nyla Harper moved into the room, their weapons drawn and expressions fierce. "Are you both okay?" Lopez asked, her eyes scanning us for injuries.

"We're alive, thanks to you," Tim replied, his voice thick with emotion.

Grey moved swiftly, cutting our bonds and helping us to our feet. "We need to get you out of here. It's not safe yet."

As we hurried down the hallway, the reality of our rescue began to sink in. I clung to Tim, both of us drawing strength from the presence of our colleagues and friends. The building was a maze of chaos, with LAPD officers securing the area and apprehending Petrovich's men.

Outside, the bright sunlight was blinding after the dim interior of the building. I blinked, trying to adjust my vision, and spotted the familiar blue and red lights of police cruisers. We were safe.

Grey led us to an ambulance where medics were waiting. "Get them checked out," he ordered, his usual stern demeanor softened by concern.

As the medics fussed over us, checking our vitals and treating our injuries, I finally allowed myself to relax. Tim held my hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "We made it, Lucy. We're going home."

I nodded, a small smile breaking through my exhaustion. "Yeah, Tim. We're going home."

The plane ride back to Los Angeles was quiet, each of us lost in our thoughts. Tim sat beside me, his hand never leaving mine. Despite the ordeal we had been through, I felt a sense of peace knowing we were finally safe.

As the plane descended towards LAX, Tim turned to me, his eyes filled with emotion. "Lucy, I need to tell you something."

I looked at him, my heart skipping a beat. "What is it, Tim?"

He took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. "When I thought we might not make it out of there, the only thing that kept me going was you. I realized that I can't imagine my life without you."