Echoes of Courage [SHORT FREENBECKY AU STORY] COMPLETED

Chapter 8: The Desperate Search

◦•●◉✿✿◉●•◦

That same day

(Freen's plan in action)

Freen’s eyes remained fixed on the house as the team quickly huddled around her, each officer ready for the next steps. The tension was palpable, every second feeling like an eternity as they contemplated their next move.

"We need to get inside," Nam said, breaking the silence. "There’s no telling what he might be doing to her right now."

Freen nodded sharply, her mind racing. "We’ll split up. Nam, you and Omega circle around the back, look for any other entry points. Irin, stay close to me. We’ll go in through the front. No one makes a move until we’re sure we know where Becky is."

Irin tightened her grip on her weapon, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on her. She hadn’t found anything obvious during her initial sweep, but the gut feeling that something was wrong still lingered.

"Got it," Nam replied. "We’ll keep our comms open. If we find anything, you’ll know right away."

As Nam and her team disappeared into the shadows, Freen, Irin and Freen's team moved back towards the front door. Freen’s heart pounded in her chest, they couldn’t afford to make any mistakes—Becky’s life depended on it.

Freen motioned for Irin to stay close as she cautiously approached the door, her senses on high alert. She had to play this carefully; any misstep could send Nop into a frenzy.

Before they reached the door, Nam’s voice crackled over their earpieces. "Freen, we found something. There’s a cellar door on the side of the house, hidden under some old crates. It’s locked, but it could be where he’s keeping her."

Freen’s breath caught. "Hold position," she ordered, her mind already formulating a plan. "We’re coming to you. We’ll breach together."

They moved quickly but quietly to Nam's team location. The cellar door was old, rusted, and padlocked—an obvious attempt to keep it concealed. Freen exchanged a look with Nam, her expression resolute.

"We’re going in," Freen said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can you guys pick the lock?"

"I can do it," One of the men named Roger raised his hand, already pulling out a set of tools. "Give me a minute."

As Roger worked, Freen’s thoughts raced. If Becky was down there, they had to be prepared for the worst. Nop could be armed, dangerous, and desperate. She checked her weapon, feeling the weight of it in her hand, and steeled herself for what was to come.

A soft click signaled that the lock was undone. Roger slowly lifted the cellar door, revealing a dark, narrow staircase leading down into the unknown.

Freen exchanged a glance with the team, each of them tense and ready. "Irin, stay with me," Freen instructed. "Nam, you take the rear. We move in quietly, and we move fast."

The team descended the stairs, the darkness swallowing them as they entered the basement. The air was thick, damp, and carried an unsettling stillness that made the hairs on the back of Freen’s neck stand up. She could barely make out the faint outline of a small, dimly lit room at the bottom of the stairs.

As they reached the last step, Freen signaled for the team to fan out. She carefully scanned the room, her eyes adjusting to the low light. The basement was small, cluttered with old furniture and boxes, but there was something else—a heavy, oppressive silence that sent a shiver down her spine.

Then, she saw it—a metal door. Freen’s heart skipped a beat. That had to be it.

She gestured for the team to follow her, her pulse racing as she approached the door. The closer she got, the more she could make out—a faint, muffled sound, barely audible through the thick metal.

Freen motioned for the team to stop, her hand hovering over the door handle. She glanced back at Nam and Irin, their faces tense with anticipation.

"We’re going in on three," she whispered. "Be ready for anything."

They nodded, their grips tightening on their weapons.

"One… two… three."

She shoved the door open, and they rushed inside. The small room was dimly lit by a single light from the small window. In the corner, huddled on the floor, was Becky. Her wrists were bound, her face pale and streaked with tears. She looked up at them, her eyes wide with fear and desperation.

Freen's heart broke at the sight, but there was no time for hesitation. She moved swiftly, kneeling beside Becky and pulling out a knife to unlock the cold metal shackles that bound her wrists, but it made their situation hard.

As she slid the small knife into the tiny keyhole of the shackles, she realized just how complicated and cruelly designed they were. The lock was intricate, designed to resist any attempt at escape.

Freen's frustration grew with every passing second as she worked the lock, her hands sweating under the pressure. “Come on, come on…” she muttered under her breath, trying to keep her growing panic at bay.

Nop had made sure the shackle was as intricate and difficult as possible, a cruel testament to his need for control.

Nam and Irin were nearby, keeping watch while the rest of the team scoured the basement for anything useful. The tension in the room was palpable, every creak and rustle heightening their senses. Nam, standing at the door, glanced back, her concern clear.

“Freen, how’s it going?” Nam asked, her voice tense with urgency.

“This lock… it’s more complicated than I thought,” Freen muttered, frustration edging into her tone as she struggled with the mechanism. She could feel Becky’s gaze on her, filled with desperation, and it only made her work faster.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” Freen whispered, her voice firm despite the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

Irin who had been quietly keeping an eye on them, stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she noticed Freen’s struggle. “Let me see if I can help,” she offered, crouching down beside her.

Freen nodded, moving slightly to give Irin a better view. “It’s a tricky one. Nop wasn’t messing around.”

Irin inspected the shackle, her expression grim. “He must have spent a lot of time making sure these couldn’t be easily removed,” she said, her voice laced with anger. She reached for another set of tools in her own pocket, ready to assist.

“Irin, take the left side, I’ll work on the right,” Freen suggested, her focus still on the lock. “We need to get her out of these as fast as possible.”

Irin nodded, moving to the other side of Becky to work on the second shackle. Together, they worked in tandem, each focusing on their respective locks.

Freen’s heart raced as the seconds ticked by, feeling the pressure of time weighing heavily on her shoulders.

◦•●◉✿✿◉●•◦

to be continue.....

A/N: Uh-oh, will they manage to free Becky? 😳