Page 4 of Exposé

I raised a brow.

It had been a while since I’d set foot in a place like that. Work kept me buried—eyes scanning reports, fingers hammering out searches, always chasing the next lead. The world moved fast, and I had to move faster. Nightclubs weren’t part of the equation.

Red and blue strobes flared in my rearview, splashing color against the crumbling houses ahead. I groaned, easing the car toward the curb, hand drifting toward my identification.

Two unmarked units barreled past in the other lane, their speed rattling my side mirror, their sirens off.

What the hell?

Three more patrol units tore past, followed by two black armored trucks, their heavy tires growling against the asphalt. As they neared the intersection, their lights cut out. One group veered right, disappearing into the darkness, and the second turned right onto the next street ahead.

My grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles white against the leather. My heart pounded, each beat slamming in my chest, my pulse a steady drum in my ears.

“Wait, a minute...”That’s Elmgrove Street.

I pressed down on the accelerator—the engine revving as I swerved back onto the road, trailing the vehicles that had taken the first turn.

How did this person know?

Inside intel?

A cop, maybe?

I eased to a stop at the corner of Elmgrove, killed the lights, and sank into the shadows. The convoy ahead stopped, engines idling in front of an old brick building. Sticker house numbers lined the doorway beside a storm door tilted at an awkward angle, the bottom hinge the last thing holding it up.

That’s the house…

Armed officers poured out of the armored trucks, moving with practiced aggression toward the front porch. Heavy black boots crashed over empty flowerpots, sending ceramic shards skittering across the pavement. A straw broom, more for decoration than use, toppled in the chaos.

Windows shattered as long black breaching sticks, tethered to thick yellow tow straps, smashed through the glass. Another officer stepped up with a battering ram, driving it through the front door with brutal force. Wood splintered, the frame groaning under the assault.

Near the perimeter, one officer stood with his rifle angled toward the ground, scanning for movement. I reached into my laptop bag, pulling out a pen and notepad, my hand already moving as I cataloged every detail.

Chaos erupted. Tactical teams fanned out across the yard, securing the perimeter with precision. The battering rams slammed into the rotting wooden door, each impact rattling the frame. Rifles snapped up, their muzzles punching through fragile glass, sending jagged shards cascading onto the porch.

“Clear! Clear!”

The front-line officers peeled away as the armored vehicle’s flood lights flared, bathing the scene in stark white for a heartbeat before surging forward. The thick yellow tow straps went taut. With a sickening crack, the entire front wall tore free from the house, wood and brick crumbling like paper.

My breath caught. My grip on the notepad slackened.

They didn’t hesitate. Weapons up, they stormed the wreckage, disappearing into the devastation.

“Get down on the ground.” The officer’s words shot through the night. “I won’t say it again.”

Air stuck in my throat as I braced, my muscles locked tight, waiting for bullets to fly.

My pen touched the paper, the silence in my car deafening, a stark contrast to the cacophony outside of it.

Two officers in military-style gear emerged from the wreckage, each gripping a lean man by the elbows, his arms twisted at an unnatural angle. They doubled him over, forcing him toward the front yard with practiced efficiency. His stained tank top bunched up over his belly, the white ends of cable ties jutting out like antennae from his wrists.

Behind them, another team escorted a second suspect—a stout man doubled over, his breath ragged, one shoe missing. His jeans sat twisted on his hips, the button undone, the fabric bunched at his thighs as if he’d scrambled into them the second the door burst open.

My pen flew over the page, documenting every detail the old-school way, each word capturing the raw reality of the moment.

The officers dumped the stout man next to the skinny one, their bodies slumped, breathing heavy.

Inside, shattered windows pulsed with light, the ruined home illuminated as officers moved room to room, their silhouettes cutting through the glow.

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