Chapter 56 – Warrior Instinct
Los Angeles, California – Brothers' Night Out
Grant was driving his SUV through the busy streets of Los Angeles. In the passenger seat, Alex was fiddling with his phone, probably reading some news or academic article, while Hailey and Luke were in the backseat, discussing which bar or restaurant they should go to first.
"We could go to that rooftop bar that opened last month," Hailey suggested.
"And spend fifty bucks on a cocktail? I prefer a place with cheap beer," Luke retorted.
Alex, without taking his eyes off his phone, said:
"If we were going to drink cheap beer, we could have stayed home."
Grant laughed, shaking his head.
"Doesn't change anything, huh? It's like I never left high school with you guys."
Hailey smiled.
"It's been a while since we've been together, Grant. Since you joined the Army, we've barely had these moments."
Luke agreed.
"Yeah. Before, you always hung out with us, drove us around when we needed a ride, and now you're back as a badass secret agent."
Grant smirked.
"I'm not a secret agent, Luke. I just changed careers."
They laughed and continued talking as Grant drove through the bright streets of Los Angeles. The city was alive, bustling, full of people coming and going.
Until everything changed in a second.
Grant was stopped at a traffic light when his trained eye caught something strange in the convenience store across the street.
Four men ran out of the store, armed with automatic rifles, heading straight for a black sedan parked near the entrance.
Instinct took over.
"Stay still and get down," Grant ordered, his voice firm and controlled.
Hailey, Alex, and Luke immediately sensed danger.
"What's going on?" Hailey asked, her voice tense.
"Robbery. And they're armed."
Grant pulled his Glock 19 from under his jacket and slowly opened the door.
"Stay down and don't get out of the car."
Luke looked at him, eyes wide.
"Wait... what are you going to do?"
"What needs to be done."
He moved quickly.
Foot firmly on the asphalt, gun drawn, aiming precisely.
"POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND GET ON THE GROUND!" he bellowed, his voice projecting with authority.
The four robbers turned at the same time.
Hesitation.
Then they raised their rifles.
Grant didn't wait.
With the calm and precision of someone who had dealt with real threats in war zones, he pulled the trigger.
PAM! PAM!
Two accurate shots.
The first robber fell immediately, hit in the chest.
The second was hit in the shoulder and fell screaming.
The other two opened fire.
"GUNSHIRE!" someone in the street shouted, and the crowd began to run frantically.
Grant dove behind the back of the SUV, using the car for cover.
Rifle bursts hit the asphalt, sparks flying.
He took a deep breath, maintained control.
He adjusted his stance. He took aim.
PAM! PAM!
The third robber was hit in the leg, falling immediately.
The last was still trying to run to the getaway car.
Grant raised his sights and fired.
Shot in the knee.
The robber screamed, falling facedown to the ground.
In less than 15 seconds, Grant had neutralized four armed men.
The sound of sirens filled the air. The Los Angeles police arrived quickly.
Grant placed his gun on the ground, raised his hands, and slowly knelt.
"Private security. The gun is legal. I have the papers."
The officers pointed their guns at him, but soon realized the threat had already been neutralized.
One of the sergeants approached, tense.
"Where did you learn to shoot like that?"
Grant looked at him.
"Army."
The sergeant crossed his arms.
"What did you do in the Army?"
Grant hesitated for a second.
Delta Force was still a secret unit.
Then he answered simply:
"Rangers."
The sergeant smirked.
"I served in the 82nd Airborne."
Grant nodded.
"Respect."
The officer extended his hand.
"Thank you for what you did today. You saved lives."
Grant shook the officer's hand.
"I just did what had to be done."
Hailey, Alex, and Luke got out of the car, still shaken.
Hailey was the first to hug him.
"Oh my God, Grant, you could have died!"
Alex looked at him, still processing everything.
"It was the most insane thing I've ever seen."
Luke, still pale, looked at the bodies on the ground.
"It's official... my brother is a real-life John Wick."
Grant laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension.
But deep down, he knew his warrior instinct would never go away.
Chapter 57 – Station Reconnaissance
Wilshire Division Station – Los Angeles, California
The silence in the monitoring room was absolute as the officers watched the street security camera footage. The footage showed four armed suspects exiting a convenience store, running toward the getaway car.
Then, a lone man stepped out of an SUV. Firm posture. Determination. Lethal precision.
They watched unblinkingly as Grant drew his Glock 19 and neutralized the criminals in a matter of seconds, all with the coolness and efficiency of someone who'd done it countless times.
Sergeant Wade Grey, a veteran and station chief, crossed his arms and looked at the group of officers around him.
"Will someone explain to me what the hell we just saw?"
Captain Zoe Anderson, impeccably suited, stepped forward.
"What we saw, Sergeant, was a top-notch professional in action."
Officer Tim Bradford, one of the station's most experienced TOs, looked at the screen and nodded.
"We've seen ex-military personnel responding to crimes before, but this… this is different."
"It's Delta Force tactics," commented Sgt. Wade Grey, staring intently at the video.
Lucy Chen and John Nolan exchanged glances.
"Wait a minute… you think he's not just an ex-Ranger?" Nolan asked.
"Judging by his movements, his calculated shots, and the way he uses cover? Yes. I bet this guy was Delta."
Officer Talia Bishop analyzed the video again.
"Grey, are you sure? Delta Force is highly classified."
"It's just a guess."
They went back to watching the video.
Every detail. Every movement.
Grant never hesitated, never wasted a shot, and never left himself exposed for more than a split second.
Captain Anderson crossed her arms.
"Does anyone have this guy's name?"
The officer in charge of witness identification checked the records.
"His name is Grant Tucker-Pritchett. He works for Sentinel Security."
"Sentinel?" Tim Bradford asked. "That explains a lot. They don't hire just anyone."
John Nolan, Lucy Chen, Bishop, and Bradford exchanged glances.
They had already closed the case; the criminals were either in the hospital or in prison, but now the discussion revolved around who this guy was and where he learned to fight like this.
Captain Anderson took a deep breath.
"Well, Grant Tucker-Pritchett may not be in our jurisdiction, but I'd love to know more about him."
Sergeant Grey nodded.
"He saved lives today. But something tells me this wasn't the first firefight he's faced."
Meanwhile, in another room…
Grant sat in a chair in the police station, calm, his arms crossed. He didn't seem nervous or worried. He'd been questioned before—in war zones, by commanders, by intelligence agents.
Being questioned by LAPD officers? That was a piece of cake.
One of the detectives entered the room.
"Mr. Pritchett, thank you for your cooperation. As a Sentinel security guard, your paperwork is up to date, and your weapon is fully licensed."
Grant simply nodded.
The detective looked at him for a moment before asking:
"Where did you learn to shoot like that?"
Grant smiled slightly.
"Army."
The detective raised an eyebrow.
"What unit?"
Grant stared at him for a second before answering.
"Rangers."
The detective didn't look convinced.
He smirked and simply said,
"Okay. You're free to go."
Grant stood up, grabbed his things, and left the station.
Outside, the Los Angeles night air felt lighter.
But he knew that somewhere inside that station, someone was trying to find out more about him.
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