Alicia had initially thought things would calm down.With Councilman Liam stepping in to help—repaying a life-saving debt—Rian's troubles would be manageable, even if the body count was high.
But the moment she arrived on scene, her knees nearly buckled.
Every shot… was a headshot.
Bullet after bullet, drilled straight between the eyes.
He hadn't spared anyone. No warnings. No hesitation.
This wasn't just a rescue.It was a one-man extermination mission.
Okay—yes. These were organ traffickers. Every one of them deserved to rot in hell.From a legal standpoint, she could stretch it as self-defense during a hostage rescue.
But… the ten former Navy SEALs?
Now the military was going to get involved.
Yes, they were discharged. Technically civilians.But they were still veterans. If they ended up dead in a violent shootout, the Department of Veterans Affairs was absolutely going to investigate.
They had to determine whether these men were killed because of something from their time in service—or what they did afterward.
Jesus, Rian… you have no idea what kind of mess you've stirred up.
Shooting a random gangbanger in South Central would've been a smaller headache than this.
Those SEALs—maybe they deserved to die. But you still shot ten elite ex-soldiers. That alone could get the brass breathing down our necks.
And worst of all?
You killed Quentin White.
Quentin freaking White.
Billionaire. Insurance mogul.
Alicia's blood turned to ice.
It didn't matter that Quentin was in bed with organ smugglers.The kind of wealth he had came with powerful friends. Political connections. Maybe even the President on speed dial.
The only small mercy?
Quentin wasn't part of any Judean financial cabal or other untouchable elite group.
Even Councilman Liam looked stunned when he stepped onto the Canglong.This wasn't what he had envisioned when he launched the "Supercop" idea.
He'd expected Rian to take out some black-market organ dealers. Big news, but clean. Heroic.
Not a hundred corpses—including a billionaire.
Three days ago, Liam had been drinking champagne and sharing jokes with Quentin at a charity gala.
Now?
Quentin was lying in a puddle of his own blood, his forehead blown open.
Liam had known about Quentin's daughter—kidney failure from birth.Now he realized what had happened.Quentin had made a deal with Isis to procure a donor… and Isis had delivered.
And now, the LAPD's full-throttle pursuit—the wild chase through downtown, the high-speed convoys—suddenly made sense.
All of this… had been to save a girl Quentin tried to harvest for his own daughter.
Liam sighed.
The Federal Health Insurance Group is about to go through hell.
One of the nation's top ten insurance companies. And its chairman had just been gunned down trying to buy a child's kidney.
Scandal, lawsuits, a shareholder civil war—it was coming.
Damn. I'd better sell my stock in that company while I still can.
FBI Field Director Samuel stood silently at the edge of the deck, watching the cleanup.His eyes narrowed.
Impressive doesn't even begin to cover it.
If Rian didn't have such an airtight alibi… I'd bet my badge he was behind the "Crimson Revolver" massacre, too.
A clean trail of corpses. All with perfect headshots. That's not a coincidence.
There aren't many shooters in this city who kill like that.
Alicia snapped out of her thoughts.
"Rian," she said grimly. "Turn over the weapons you used in this operation."
He nodded.Reluctantly, he handed over his beloved pair of TTI Vipers, as well as the AR-15.
As for the suppressed Uzi?
He gave them the location where he'd ditched it.
That was the extent of the firepower he'd used.
The grenades?He said he'd picked them up off the corpses—salvaged on-site.
"Alright," Alicia said. "Starting tomorrow, you're on administrative leave."
"But given how complicated this case is, if we need you back for statements or follow-up, you're expected to respond immediately. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
The rest of the incident was out of his hands now.
Amelia tried to catch up with him—but Councilman Liam blocked her.
He needed to speak with her—after all, her footage and interviews would be a cornerstone of the "Supercop" campaign he had planned.
Rian stepped onto a fast boat and piloted it back to shore.
When he arrived, a patrol car was already waiting.
Henry climbed out, face full of relief.
"Man, I knew you'd make it back!"
Their time working together hadn't been long—but Henry genuinely cared.
"Sorry for worrying you, Coach."
Rian clapped his shoulder with a tired smile.
"I heard… you dropped a hundred guys?" Henry asked once they were in the car, eyes wide.
"Not that many," Rian said casually. "Just ninety-three."
"Jesus! And that's any better how?"
"Dude… are you sure you don't want to see a therapist? I know a guy. Real discreet. Helps a lot of officers."
Henry looked genuinely concerned.
Post-traumatic stress. Survivor's guilt.Hell, in the West, it was almost expected after a firefight.
But Rian?
He didn't feel a thing.
"There's no need," he said, eyes calm."Those people weren't humans."
"They were animals."