Back at Siobhan's house, Ethan took a couple of bottles of beer out of the refrigerator. He unscrewed the lid from one of the bottles and handed it to her. Then, he sat comfortably on the sofa with the other bottle of beer.
—You're not polite —Siobhan commented as she removed her duty belt, hung it heavily on the hook on the wall, lifted the bottle, and took a sip. —You don't need to stay. I can defend myself.
—You're now their number one target. You have to be careful.
—I know. I just can't stop being upset. You know? The hospital report came out. Bessie Denton, the woman who was dragged across the pavement, suffered three fractures and her jaw was destroyed.
—Don't worry, we'll definitely catch that gang —Ethan tried to redirect Siobhan's attention. He looked up and saw some photos hanging on the wall. He got up and walked over with curiosity. In the photo, a young version of Siobhan was happily smiling at the camera while holding a Minnie balloon.
—I didn't expect you to have freckles as a kid, but you were still cute —Ethan joked.
—That was when I was in elementary school. After begging for a long time, my parents finally took me to Disneyland. It was the happiest moment of my life —Siobhan sighed softly. —But now, only a few photos remain —she added with melancholy. —It's time for you to go.
Ethan looked at the photo, hesitated for a moment, and said:
—You saw what happened today. They're here for revenge. It's too dangerous for you to stay home alone until this is over. Come stay at my place for a couple of nights, until things settle down.
Siobhan refused without thinking:
—This is my house, the place where I was born. I'm not leaving. I have a gun. I can protect myself.
—Then I can't let you stay here alone. Well, I'm not leaving either. Your couch is pretty comfortable. Mind if I crash here tonight? —Ethan shifted his approach.
—Even if I ever let you stay the night, it won't be for your protection —Siobhan replied sharply. She realized what she had said and awkwardly took a sip from her bottle. —Go. I think you need some rest.
Ethan couldn't say more:
—Alright, I'll head out. I'll see you again later.
—You don't need to come by, but you can call me after your shift ends. I should still be awake —Siobhan said, though her voice still carried a hint of nervousness. She flicked her braid, turned her head, and looked out the window with wide eyes. She knew they might come after her, and it was impossible not to be anxious.
—Alright, no problem. I'll go.
After leaving Siobhan's house, Ethan decided not to return to the station. Instead, he went home, took a quick shower, checked his gear, got into his Ford F150, and drove to a spot less than 50 meters from Siobhan's home. He parked behind some bushes, rolled down the windows, and turned off the engine.
That path was the only way to reach her house. If the biker gang came for revenge, he would see them immediately.
Ethan pulled out his M4A1 rifle after checking everything was in order and placed it conveniently on the passenger seat. The weapons he had bought last time were reported and registered at the station, so there was no issue using them on duty.
Siobhan had always been kind to him since he joined the department. He decided not only to protect her but also her house full of memories—because she wasn't willing to leave, likely out of fear they'd take everything from her.
After preparing, Ethan lit a cigarette and gently tapped the M4A1 with his fingers. Night fell quickly. Occasionally, he stepped out of the truck to stretch; the rest of the time, he waited quietly inside.
Siobhan's house glowed with warm lights, and from a distance, she could be seen busy in the kitchen. Before long, the smell of steak frying drifted in the air. Ethan inhaled it eagerly, then unwrapped a cold sandwich and took a big bite.
He yawned and checked his watch. It was nearly eleven. The road remained quiet, with an occasional truck passing by.
Inside Siobhan's home, only a few lights were on, and the faint sound of a TV could be heard. Ethan smiled as he noticed the fast-paced music playing. He hadn't expected her to enjoy that type of music.
He opened the car door and went off to relieve himself. Looking around absentmindedly, he noticed some distant headlights approaching. At first, he ignored them, but they went dark quickly, and only the muffled roar of a motorcycle remained.
Sensing something was wrong, Ethan zipped up, rushed back, and grabbed the M4A1.
Under the cold moonlight, several Harley-Davidsons rolled in like ghosts. All the riders wore leather jackets and colored bandanas. The leader was the man with glasses who had caused trouble at the celebration earlier.
—This is Ethan. The bikers are here for revenge against Siobhan. Requesting backup —he said into the radio.
It was standard for officers to call for support when facing gang members. Even if he was confident in handling it, he needed to avoid looking reckless.
By the time he switched off the radio, the gang was already close. Ethan didn't bother with a warning—he raised the M4A1 and opened fire.
Flames burst from the barrel. The leader groaned as blood mist exploded from his chest. Then he and his bike hit the ground.
The sudden assault made the rest scatter in panic. Bullets rained down, hitting another man in the head. They hadn't expected an ambush. These small-town cops had been underestimated.
Three remaining men dropped to the ground, rolled, and tried to return fire, but under Ethan's overwhelming firepower, their aim was worthless. Bullets flew wildly.
Once the mag was empty, Ethan ducked behind the F150. The truck wasn't armored, but it offered some cover. He reloaded quickly and noticed the house lights had gone dark.
He whistled loudly.
—Siobhan! I'm by the car! Watch out for crossfire! Three armed men out front!
Once he was sure she was safe, Ethan moved stealthily, weaving around the truck to a thick tree trunk. He crouched behind it and waited.
The bikers, realizing the attack wasn't as large as they thought, started to search. Bullets pinged off the truck. Ethan frowned—insurance wouldn't cover this.
He peeked out. Two men crouched and fired at the F150. A third, bearded, was hiding behind an overturned bike, preparing something.
A Molotov.
Ethan raised the rifle, aimed, and fired. The bottle exploded midair, engulfing the man in flames. He screamed, flailing.
Ethan looked away. He couldn't watch someone burn, not even an enemy.
The last two bikers panicked. One ran into the darkness, the other tried to lift his bike—but Ethan fired again. The man fell, exhaling his last breath.
Silence returned. Ethan slung the M4A1, drew his Beretta, and walked among the wreckage. The smell of burned meat and gasoline made him gag.
Then he heard a groan.
The man with glasses was still alive, barely. Through cracked lenses, he glared at Ethan.
—You committed murder without warning or ID. I'm going to sue you —he gasped.
—Sorry, I got too excited and forgot to announce myself —Ethan replied coldly. —But I doubt that matters now.
The man was silent. He knew this face. He was going to die.
Siobhan appeared, barefoot and limping slightly, her hair damp from the shower. She wore plaid pajamas and a tank top, holding a Glock.
—Are you okay? —she asked, nodding at the man.
—I'm fine —Ethan said. —Thanks. If you hadn't been here...
—It's nothing. You'd have done the same for me.
He stepped aside and saw a Colt M1911 near the wounded man. He kicked it closer.
—What are you doing? —the man whispered in fear.
—Pick it up —Ethan said, voice cold.
—No. What are you doing? Aren't you a cop?
—Do you see a badge anywhere? —Ethan raised the Beretta. —This is your one shot. You sure you don't want it?
The man cursed and reached for the gun. A shot rang out.
Sirens followed.
Ethan holstered the Beretta. This man would never harm anyone again. People like him always came back—and took innocents with them.
Siobhan lowered the Glock, her hands shaking.
—This is wrong. That was an execution —she murmured.
Ethan had wanted to finish him before she arrived. Now it was too late.
But she looked at him with quiet resolve.
—Ethan, you don't have to explain. I made the decision. I didn't stop you. That bastard came here to kill me. He set my house on fire.
Ethan nodded, lit a cigarette, and pinned his badge to his chest. He took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.
At that moment, a police Chevy truck roared in, lights flashing, tires screeching.
The chaos wasn't over—but with reinforcements arriving, the night was filled with new possibilities.