The night was colder than usual, the chill seeping through the car’s windows as Jeremiah and his team sped through the streets. The glow of headlights cut through the dark, illuminating the path to a confrontation he never thought he’d face. Jeremiah’s heart pounded with a mix of anger and urgency, his mind replaying the call from Emily. Her voice, trembling, had ignited something primal within him.

“Lock your door. Ten minutes,” he had told her, his voice steady despite the storm inside.

Now, in the car, his unit—brothers forged in the crucible of battle—sat silent, understanding the gravity of the situation. Each of them had gone through the rigors of combat, but this was different. This was personal.

As they pulled up to the house, the laughter from inside pierced the silence of the night, every peal a taunt. Jeremiah’s hand tightened around the steering wheel before he gave a curt nod to his men. They moved with synchronized precision, slipping out of the vehicle and towards the house, their presence a sudden shadow on the lawn.

Jeremiah didn’t bother knocking. The door swung open to reveal Shane and his friends, their eyes widening at the sight of the men standing before them. The smell of alcohol was thick in the air, mingling with the tension that suddenly permeated the room.

The look on Shane’s face said everything—surprise, fear, and an arrogance that quickly turned to dread. Jeremiah stepped forward, his voice low and lethal. “Emily’s coming with me.”

Shane blustered, trying to reclaim control. “You can’t just—”

Jeremiah cut him off, his words sharp as a blade. “I can. And I will.”