Police in Los Angeles

When Jack, Angela, and Hannah arrived at Room 365 on the third floor, the place was a mess. There was a large hole in the plasterboard wall to the right of the door where drug dealers had entered the bedroom. Lucy was on the floor, shot in the chest and her fate uncertain. Two burly men were wrestling with Tim, while a Latina woman sat trembling on the living room sofa, holding a newborn baby.

Jack hesitated to shoot, fearing he might hit Tim or the woman. Just as he was about to draw his baton and step forward, Angela and Hannah each pulled out a taser and skillfully incapacitated the two men.

"Lucy!" Bruised and battered, Tim scrambled over to Lucy, tearing open her bulletproof vest.

"Cough, cough... I'm okay." Lucy, regaining consciousness, coughed violently and pulled out a bulletproof insert from her chest, with a deformed bullet embedded in it.

"Vance Marcus ran. He admitted to being the one who hurt my wife." Tim, seeing Lucy was okay, grabbed his gun from the floor and rushed out. Jack, worried for his safety, quickly followed.

"Officer Bradford, don't rush. Marcus won't get away; reinforcements are already downstairs," Jack tried to calm Tim as they ran, knowing that the tables had turned and they now held the advantage. They needed to be careful of a desperate counterattack.

Unfortunately, just as they feared, as Tim reached the other end of the stairwell and peeked down, a burst of bullets grazed his scalp, ricocheting dangerously off the walls. Ignoring the bullets, Tim vaulted over the railing and landed on the second-floor stairway, firing at Marcus, who was reloading his Uzi.

Tim made a critical error—he hadn't checked his ammo after picking up his gun. His first shot hit Marcus's bulletproof vest, making him stagger back. But when Tim tried to fire again, his Glock was empty.

Marcus raised his reloaded Uzi, ready to kill Tim, but Jack arrived just in time, firing his powerful .357 Magnum six times. The bullets penetrated Marcus's vest, creating six large exit wounds.

"Fuck you, Bradford. You nearly got us both killed," Jack cursed, collapsing on the stairs, blood pouring from his calf.

The earlier bullets had missed Tim but ricocheted off the walls, one of them hitting Jack's right calf. Thankfully, it had missed the bone and lodged in the muscle.

Seeing Jack's injury, Tim quickly applied a tourniquet below his knee, feeling guilty. He had indeed lost his head to revenge, not the behavior of a seasoned soldier. "Sorry, kid. It was my fault. Thank you."

Jack didn't hold a grudge, especially when he saw Officer Zoe and Sergeant Black leading a team of SWAT and police officers into the hallway. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was finally over.

"Jack." Zoe's concern was evident as she saw Jack's injured leg. She pushed past Tim, wanting to check on him herself.

"Inspector Anderson, I'm fine. It didn't hit the bone. Have you found Officer Bishop? Her injuries are severe." Jack emphasized the formality of her title, reminding her of the need for discretion.

Zoe realized her mistake. Any hint of their relationship could ruin both their careers. "Bishop has been taken to Central Hospital. Is there anyone else injured upstairs?"

"Lucy took a hit to the chest, but her vest stopped it. There's also a woman who just gave birth and her newborn. You handle them; I'll take Jack to the hospital," Tim said, helping Jack stand on one foot, draping Jack's arm over his shoulder.

Zoe nodded, still concerned, "I'll come to the hospital later to see you."

---

With a clink, a .40 caliber bullet from an Uzi lay in the stainless steel tray. Dr. Grey put down her forceps, her eyes smiling above her mask.

"You're lucky, Jack. The bullet went in less than two centimeters. No stitches needed, just leave it open to drain, and you'll be walking in about a week."

Jack, fully conscious from the local anesthesia, forced a smile despite the lingering pain. "Thank you, Dr. Grey. I've always been lucky, you know that."

Dr. Grey expertly bandaged the wound, adding a playful bow, and leaned close, her breath brushing his face. "You can leave tomorrow. Come back in three days for a dressing change. That's an extra service."

The older nurse laughed like a hen. "Why not keep him here longer? I can arrange for him to stay in your private room for lunch breaks, no interruptions."

Jack, feeling the side effects of his injury creeping in, briefly fantasized about a romance with Dr. Grey. But memories of chaotic personal lives from medical dramas held him back.

As Dr. Grey wheeled Jack out of surgery, waiting officers stood and applauded. The applause was for Jack, not the doctor who performed a minor procedure.

"Alright, I'm returning the hero to you," Dr. Grey said, waving goodbye.

"Hey, nice job. I heard about today. You were amazing, and yesterday too. I never got to thank you for saving me," John, also in a wheelchair, congratulated Jack. A woman around John's age but still striking pushed his chair. Jack noticed a certain look in her eyes when she gazed at John.

Before Jack could reply, Hannah rushed over and hugged him, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Without you and Angela today, Talia and I might not have made it."

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