MIKE
I froze for a second, not expecting anyone else to be here, let alone an FBI agent. Patrick and I slowly turned, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up as we faced the man who had just spoken.
"Agent Mike?," FBI Fin said, his voice carrying a mixture of surprise and suspicion. He was standing a few feet away with three other agents flanking him. His eyes darted to the surroundings, clearly aware that things weren't exactly normal.
I recognized Fin instantly. He was one of the few agents from the FBI that I'd worked with during a mission two years ago. We'd been forced to cooperate to take down a cartel, but ever since, our paths hadn't crossed. Now, seeing him here, in Siren's base, was... unexpected.
"Agent Fin," I replied, trying to keep my composure. "What are you doing here?"
He looked just as shocked as I was.
"That's what I should be asking you," he shot back, his eyes narrowing as he sized up the situation.
 
I scanned their outfits, noticing the tactical gear they were all wearing—everything from bulletproof vests to high-end weapons. They were clearly suited up for something big, as if they were preparing for an all-out assault. My warning about Siren wasn't just a precaution, it was a reality.
"You really have no idea what you're walking into, do you? Siren isn't just a criminal. He's more than that. I stepped closer to Fin, lowering my voice, making sure only he could hear me. but then the tension spiked as someone from the other side of the compound caught sight of us. The man immediately tapped his wrist, almost too smoothly—like he was sending a signal. I could feel the weight of the situation shift in an instant. Both Fin and I exchanged quick, knowing looks, the kind you don't need to speak for everyone to understand.
Fin's voice came low and sharp, laced with frustration.
"Shit," he muttered, under his breath. He didn't need to say more; I knew what he meant. We'd been compromised.
The sudden crack of gunfire echoed through the air, sharp and unforgiving. The bullet hit the wall just inches from where I'd been standing, and I instinctively dropped to the ground, pulling Patrick with me. The sound of the shot still ringing in my ears, I pressed myself flat against the dirt, heart racing.
Fin was already moving, his body low to the ground as he sprinted for cover. His team was right behind him, but I could see the confusion in their eyes—this wasn't supposed to be how it went down. Not for the FBI. They weren't expecting a firefight.
I motioned for Patrick to keep his head down while pulling out my own weapon.
"Call the team," I whispered, voice tight. "Tell them to be ready."
Patrick quickly pulled out his phone, hitting the speed dial for the others. His eyes darted around, searching for the enemy's position while I scanned the surroundings, trying to pinpoint where the shot came from.
Freya glanced around, her face tense with concern.
"Mike, are you sure we're ready for this?" Her eyes darted over the area, scanning for any signs of movement. The urgency in her voice was clear—this wasn't just another mission. It felt like a trap, and I could tell she wasn't completely convinced we should be moving in like this.
But I knew. There was no other choice.
"Everyone, back up the FBI," I commanded, my voice steady but firm. while it is still unclear why the Elites were trying to ambush Siren now.
As we walked inside. Suddenly the wall shot up, rising higher than any of us could reach, a sense of realization hit me like a brick. We were trapped. The entrance was sealed off, and there was no immediate way to escape.
"Did they just lock all of us in? "Freya, her voice sharp with disbelief, stared at the massive wall that now separated us from the outside. " she asked, her words hanging in the tense air.
I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I surveyed the area, trying to assess our options. The thick metal wall was the clear sign that Siren had anticipated our move. The trap had been set, and we were walking right into it.
"They're not just trying to hold us back. They're making sure we can't leave." Patrick looked around, examining the structure, but there was no visible way to lower the wall from our side. 
I looked at the others. The FBI agents were tense, weapons drawn, scanning the perimeter as the atmosphere shifted. We were no longer in control of the situation. This was Siren's game now, and we had just entered her territory.
I gripped my gun tighter, mentally preparing myself for whatever was coming next.
"Stay close," I ordered. "This is their game now, but we're not out of moves yet."
A few moments passed in heavy silence before I heard the faintest hum—a sound coming from the far corner of the room. My eyes snapped to the source.
"We're not alone," I muttered under my breath, stepping forward.
The sound of gunfire echoed through the building,  creating an unsettling rhythm in the chaos. The FBI had taken the high ground, moving up to the second floor to handle whatever resistance was waiting there, while my team and I remained on the first floor, carefully navigating through the darkened hallways.
We moved silently . The only sound I could hear now was the quiet padding of our boots on the concrete floor and the faint buzz of electricity overhead.
Then, through the hallway windows, I spotted a figure. A man. He was standing just outside the pool area, his silhouette framed by the dim lights. He wasn't making any attempt to hide
I motioned for my team to halt, and we crouched down behind cover, watching him from the shadows. I could see the faint glint of a weapon in his hand, though he hadn't made any aggressive moves yet.
"Let's move," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "We'll approach from the side. Keep it quiet."Sian, Dereck, and Freya nodded in unison, understanding the gravity of the situation. We shifted slowly, creeping toward the pool area. My instincts told me something was off—this man wasn't just a guard or random thug. He was too calm, too composed for that.
As we got closer, the sound of his movements became clearer—he wasn't alone. I noticed another shadow moving in the distance, possibly a lookout or backup.
I signaled Freya to take point. She was good at getting in close without making a sound. Sian and Derek followed, positioning themselves on the opposite side of the area to cover any escape routes.
We were almost there, close enough to reach him before he realized we were upon him. But then, as if he'd sensed us, he turned his head ever so slightly, his eyes scanning the area.
I raised my hand, signaling the team to hold still.
Time seemed to slow as the man approached Dereck and Patrick from behind. I immediately aimed my gun at him, my finger ready to pull the trigger, but before I could act, something unexpected happened.
A sharp motion from behind me, and my gun was suddenly flying through the air. I cursed under my breath and spun around just in time to see Freya, who was locked in a struggle with a woman, her opponent clearly skilled, and I could see the strain in her face as she fought to maintain control. Freya wasn't someone who easily lost ground in a fight, but this woman was pushing her to the limit. hold unyielding.
"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice low and cold as I took a step forward, trying to position myself between the masked figures and my team.
But no response came. The masked man just stood there, seemingly unfazed by my challenge, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his tactical vest. I knew something was off about this entire operation—this wasn't just another guard or mercenary. These people had been trained to handle situations like this.
The punch came fast, faster than I anticipated. I barely had time to react as the man's fist collided with my jaw, sending a shock of pain through my skull. My head snapped to the side, but I fought to regain my footing, refusing to let the blow take me down.
I could hear Dereck groaning in the distance—his voice strained, and it made my stomach drop. My heart raced as I turned to see him staggering, clutching at his side where blood began to seep through his fingers.
"Dammit!" I muttered under my breath, but there was no time to focus on him. I had to fight back.
Patrick was on the ground, struggling to regain control of the situation, but the damage had already been done. He was out of the fight for now. The masked men moved with purpose, cutting off any hope of escape. 
I focused back on the man in front of me. He was already coming at me again, but this time I was ready. I ducked to the side, narrowly avoiding another swing that would have knocked me out cold.
I closed the distance between us, landing a hard punch to his gut, pushing him back. The man staggered but quickly regained his stance, a smirk creeping onto his masked face, as if this was all part of the game.
"Is that all you've got?" he taunted, his voice muffled but laced with a hint of mockery.
I gritted my teeth. I wasn't about to let him get under my skin. With a quick shift of my weight, I tackled him to the ground, pinning him beneath me. My fist landed squarely on his face
"Stay down!" I hissed through clenched teeth.
But before I could land another blow, one of his teammates grabbed me by the arm, pulling me off of him with an iron grip. I struggled, twisting my body to break free, but it was no use—these guys were too strong, too skilled.
An hour had passed, and the weight of the situation was becoming unbearable. I could feel the strain in the air, thick with frustration and defeat. My team—my family—was losing. This was the first time any of us had faced something like this, and I could see it in their eyes: the self-doubt, the blame, the disappointment.
Dereck was on his knees, blood dripping down his side, his face pale with pain. Patrick wasn't much better, barely able to stand, his breath ragged. Freya, even with her usual tough demeanor, was struggling, her movements slowing with each passing minute. And then there was me—trying to hold everything together, but even I could feel the crushing weight of failure pressing down on me.
I had always believed in my team. Hell, I knew they were capable of anything. But here we were, cornered, with no clear way out. The masked men were too organized, too skilled. Their attacks were relentless, and the more I tried to keep us together, the more it felt like we were falling apart.
I watched their faces, each one a mirror of the same helplessness that gripped me. I could feel their thoughts, their guilt. They were blaming themselves for not being strong enough, for not being able to fight back, to save each other. I could see it in the clenched fists, in the desperate attempts to push through the pain. But this wasn't their fault.
 "Wrap it up, Siren wants us." said a man as he walk closer to our opponents. It was a voice I knew, a voice that sent a chill down my spine. My vision blurred for a moment, and as I turned, I saw a man standing there, a figure too familiar to ignore. But before it sinks in, The world shifted, reality bending just out of reach. I tried to focus, but it was like trying to grab onto smoke. The man, the voice I recognized, smirked at us. But before I could even react, before I could process the threat, a sharp sting in my neck made everything go black.
I tried to move, tried to scream, but my body felt like it was being weighed down by cement..
Then, before the darkness swallowed me whole, I heard it. A voice, almost casual, as if it were just another conversation.
"We were supposed to kill them, aren't we?"
It was the woman who had been fighting Freya

Kill us?