Chapter 3
Then — a sudden roar shattered the calm.
The motorcycle engine screamed as it sped toward them. The man on the back raised his weapon.
Gary immediately threw himself over Allysa, shielding her from the bullets. Bernard ducked, covering his head, while Celine and Miguel hit the ground, drawing their pistols and firing back at the speeding motorcycle.
The old man was hit — and so was Gary.
"Augh!" he grunted, collapsing to one knee.
Allysa's eyes widened in terror. "Patrick! Are you alright?!" Her voice trembled with fear.
"Yeah… don't worry about me," he gritted his teeth, pressing his hand tightly over the wound.
He grabbed his radio. "Jonathan, SOS! Come in!" His voice broke through the pain.
Celine rushed to his side. "Patrick, are you okay?!"
Miguel stayed alert, scanning the street for more attackers. Celine pulled her med kit from her pack and pressed a bandage against Gary's bleeding side, holding it firm.
Allysa's hands shook as she watched him. Bernard's voice broke the silence — frightened and shaky.
"What the hell just happened?!"
Miguel turned to him, cautious but calm. "Sir, are you alright?"
"Yes… I'm fine," Bernard muttered, his eyes darting around in shock.
Moments later, the sound of screeching tires announced Zion's arrival. He pulled up in the black Chevrolet Tahoe, positioning it as cover. He stepped out, pistol raised, scanning the area.
"What the hell happened?!" he demanded, a mix of concern and confusion in his tone.
Celine shot him a glare, her expression saying Are you serious right now? as she kept pressure on Gary's wound.
"We got attacked, genius!" she snapped.
Allysa and Celine helped Gary to his feet while Alejandro checked the old man's pulse. After a brief moment, he looked up.
"He's dead."
The words hit hard. Allysa froze, staring at the man she had just tried to help.
Zion, Celine, Bernard, and Gary all fell silent — their morale sinking.
"…Shit," Gary whispered, staring at the lifeless body on the ground.
In the distance, sirens wailed. Civilians scattered in panic, leaving the street littered with trash and broken glass. Moments later, LAPD units arrived — Crown Vics and Ford Explorers, lights flashing blue and red.
An officer stepped forward, weapon lowered but cautious.
"LAPD! Everyone stay where you are!" he shouted, his flashlight cutting through the chaos.
Gary raised his hands slightly, his voice strained.
"We're security — private detail! One injured, one deceased civilian!"
An officer approached cautiously.
"Holster your weapons, sir."
Celine lowered her pistol, hands shaking.
"He's hit! He needs a medic now!"
Paramedics pushed through the tape.
"We got him!" one said, kneeling beside Gary. Blood soaked through his side as the medic checked the wound.
"Entry, right abdomen — pressure here. Stay with me, sir."
Gary gritted his teeth. "I'm fine… just patch me up."
The lead officer stepped closer to Allysa, who looked pale, frozen.
"Ma'am, are you hurt?"
She shook her head. "No… just shaken."
"Alright, we'll need your statement. You too, sir," he said, nodding toward Bernard, who was still trying to process everything.
Meanwhile, another officer crouched beside the old man's body. He exhaled quietly and called out,
"One DOA. Coroner en route."
Celine wiped her bloody hands on her pants, staring at the empty street.
"Who the hell were they?"
Miguel's voice was low, tense.
"Doesn't matter now. They're gone."
A detective arrived, badge glinting under the lights.
"Detective Ramirez, LAPD Major Crimes. Nobody leaves. We're gonna need every one of your statements and IDs."
Gary nodded, steady but cold.
"Understood."
Just as the detective was about to question them, a black-suited woman stepped out from behind one of the patrol cars. She wore a dark hat and a long jacket with "DOCI" printed across the back. Her presence alone demanded attention.
"Detective Ramirez, I'll take it from here," she said — her voice calm, but carrying authority.
"Yes, ma'am." Ramirez straightened and gave a respectful nod before stepping aside.
The woman approached, flashing her badge.
"Department of Crime and Investigation. Director Audrey Clayton," she introduced herself, her tone firm and precise. "I'll be taking all of your statements."
Director Audrey's sharp gaze moved across the group — Gary, Celine, Zion, and Miguel. For a brief moment, none of them spoke.
Gary's eyes narrowed slightly as a thought crossed his mind.
"Cassandra Kane…" he murmured silently, recognizing the handler of EIS. He gave a small nod to himself.
Cassandra Kane turned her attention to the shaken pair.
"Ms. Allysa, Mr. Bernard — what happened?"
Allysa's voice trembled, her hands still unsteady.
"I was just… helping an old man, and suddenly — two people on a motorcycle started shooting at us."
Cassandra calmly jotted notes on her pad.
"Alright," she said, then shifted her sharp gaze to Gary. "And you… you're with a private security service, correct?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied steadily, hiding the pain in his voice.
"Which licensed agency?" she pressed.
"Shield Services, ma'am," he answered with a composed tone.
"I'll verify that later," Cassandra said curtly, closing her notebook. Then, turning back to Allysa, her tone softened slightly.
"Ms. Allysa, do you mind if we question your security personnel privately?"
Allysa nodded faintly.
"Sure, ma'am."
Cassandra gestured for the four — Gary, Celine, Zion, and Miguel — to follow. They moved a few paces away, stopping near a sleek black DOCI cruiser parked by the curb.
"Alright," Cassandra began, her tone firm and commanding.
"Tell me exactly what happened."
Gary spoke first, his expression hard but calm.
"Handler, we were attacked directly after exiting the area." He gritted his teeth, hand still pressing his wound.
"Did you catch the motorcycle's plate number?" Cassandra asked.
Miguel shook his head.
"Negative, ma'am. As Celine and I fired back, we noticed — there was no plate number at all."
Celine added quickly,
"Yes, ma'am. We didn't see anything identifiable."
Cassandra nodded, processing their words.
"Understood. I'll have HQ run a full report. But from what I've seen… I'm confident the Monarchy is behind this." Her voice was calm, yet carried an edge of certainty.
Then her tone hardened.
"Your objective remains the same — protect Allysa. At all costs. Do I make myself clear?"
All four straightened, their voices in unison.
"Yes, ma'am."
Meanwhile, inside the ambulance, medics from the Los Angeles Medical Team (LAMT) checked Allysa over. She sat on the stretcher while a nurse leaned in, clipboard in hand.
"Ma'am — are you hurt anywhere?" the nurse asked.
Allysa gave a small, steady smile.
"No — I'm fine, thank you."
"If you need anything, we'll be right here," the nurse said, then stepped back.
As the nurse moved away, a tall figure approached — broad-shouldered and strikingly feminine. She hurried over, half alarmed, half relieved.
"Sissy!"
Allysa brightened.
"Nathalie?"
"Yes, you little twerp — are you okay, my baby sister?" Nathalie demanded, worry threading her voice.
Allysa's voice cracked a little.
"Yeah… I'm okay, Nathalie."
Nathalie squeezed her hand like she might never let go.
"Thank God you weren't hurt. You made me so worried — but slayyyy, still looking beautiful as ever." She winked, teasing.
"You never change, Nat," Allysa smiled, almost laughing.
Nathalie's grin turned mischievous.
"So where's that no-good fiancé of yours?"
"Nat, we talked about this — he's fine. He's a good fiancé," Allysa said, trying to sound calm.
"Oh please. Don't make me punch him in the face," Nathalie teased, half-serious.
"Hey — no, don't. He's fine. He's just over there being interrogated with the cops," Allysa replied, pointing toward the group outside.
Bernard sat nearby, being questioned by the police about the attack. A few feet away, Alejandro, Scarlet, Patrick, and Jonathan approached the ambulance.
Allysa managed a soft smile as she saw them.
"Hey, you guys are here. Are you done being interrogated?" she asked calmly.
"Yep — all done, ma'am," Miguel replied firmly.
Allysa turned her gaze to Gary.
"Hey, Patrick… thank you for saving me back there. That was really selfless of you," she said in a low, calm tone.
Gary gave a faint, pained smile.
"Just doing my job, ma'am… Allysa."
Before the moment could settle, Nathalie stepped forward, her usual confidence on full display. She eyed Gary up and down, smirking.
"So this is the man who saved you, little sis?" She gave a playful sway of her hand. "Ohh, good-looking too."
Zion, Celine, Miguel, and Allysa all exchanged looks — half amused, half speechless. Zion whistled under his breath.
"Oh look, he's become a magnet."
The group burst into light laughter.
"Tell me, Mr. Good-Looking Security," Nathalie teased. "What's your name?"
"Patrick Weston," he replied flatly, still holding his side.
"Ohh, cold as ice, huh?" Nathalie teased again, grinning as the others laughed. Even Gary let out a short, bitter chuckle.
"Alright, enough, sis — stop flirting with the security," Allysa said, laughing softly.
"Eughhh," Nathalie exaggerated dramatically. "He's your knight in shining armor. Actually, no — he's mine." She winked and nudged Allysa teasingly.
"Alright, that's enough," Gary said with a tired, bitter smile.
Jonathan grinned mischievously.
"My good man, you're literally a magnet at this point."
"Yeah," Scarlet added, her voice teasing. "A literal magnet for girls to get pulled in."
Scarlet and Jonathan high-fived in perfect sync.
"Yeah!" they said together, laughing.
Even Allysa shook her head, smiling. The moment — after all the chaos — finally felt a little lighter.
After a few minutes of light banter, Bernard finally finished giving his statement to the police. He walked toward the ambulance, where Allysa sat on the edge of the stretcher.
She stood up as he approached.
"Hey, love — you're done being interrogated?" she asked warmly.
"Yeah," Bernard said with a tired chuckle. "It was tough, especially with those cops." His tone was calm yet affectionate.
Behind them, Gary, Celine, Nathalie, Miguel, and Zion stood near the curb. Gary's eyes lingered on Bernard and Allysa — the way she smiled at him, the warmth in her voice. A quiet ache flashed across his expression before he quickly looked away.
Miguel noticed. Standing just behind him, he reached out and gave Gary a light tap on the shoulder.
"Hey, dude… you alright?" His voice was calm, tinged with concern.
Gary blinked, snapping out of his daze.
"Oh — yeah, I'm alright, man. Nothing to worry about." He forced a small smile, trying to brush the pain aside.
Zion, sensing the tension, jumped in to break the silence.
"I gotta say, that was hell," he muttered, stretching his arms.
Celine smirked.
"It wouldn't have been if you actually acted fast, fatass." Her voice was teasing, laced with sarcasm.
Zion turned sharply, pretending to be offended.
"Give me a break, will you, Celine? Gary told me to stay in the Tahoe in case we got attacked." His tone was playful but defensive.
"All I hear are excuses," Celine shot back with a grin.
"Hey— no, I didn't—!" Zion raised his voice, ready to argue, but Miguel stepped in, patience thinning.
"Hey, hey — you two. Enough pointing fingers," he said, calm but firm. "There's no point."
Celine rolled her eyes but backed down with a sigh. Zion shrugged, muttering under his breath. The group fell into an uneasy silence — the distant sirens fading into the background.
Gary glanced once more at Allysa and Bernard, his chest tightening, before he turned away.
As Gary walked away, Miguel's eyes followed him quietly.
"Miguel, what's wrong with him?" Celine asked, her voice calm but edged with worry.
Miguel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I don't know, Celine. Maybe he's just lost a lot of blood… or maybe something else." He shrugged, keeping his tone even.
Zion glanced between them, thoughtful.
"I've noticed it too," he said. "Our boy Gary's been different ever since we got assigned to this mission. I wonder what's going on with him."
Miguel nodded slowly.
"Whatever it is, it might just be exhaustion. He's been through a lot lately. Let's give him some space — we'll find the right time to talk to him." His voice carried calm reassurance, like a steady anchor for the group.
Celine looked down for a moment, her voice soft.
"Alright… but still, I'm worried about Gary."
The three stood in quiet understanding, watching Gary's silhouette fade.
Miguel broke the silence, his voice low and measured.
"Excuse me, Ms. Allysa, we need to move before the media arrives."
"Wait… where's Patrick?" Allysa asked calmly, glancing around.
"He's being treated, ma'am. He'll be back soon," Zion replied quietly, his tone calm but reassuring.
Without another word, they made their way back to the Crown Victoria and Tahoe, slipping past the growing crowd of flashing cameras and murmuring onlookers.
A few meters away, a black, darkly tinted limousine was parked just in front of the crime scene. Inside, Frontier sat in the back, his dark suit and mask visible through the window, though no one outside could see him. Beside him, Audrey Clayton removed her artificial mask, revealing her composed features.
"Director Cassandra Kane," Frontier's deep voice rumbled.
"Frontier," Cassandra replied, her tone calm yet authoritative. "How's the report on Washington?"
"It's all set, ma'am. The Washington District Headquarters are fully briefed on our plans," he answered, his voice even and precise.
"Mr. Chrisley approves of the president's security measures?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am. He agrees completely," Frontier replied, still calm.
"Very good," Cassandra said, her voice impressed yet still commanding. "You did well."
She leaned slightly closer, her tone remaining calm but sharp.
"Also, Frontier — I want a full report sent to HQ. I need to know who's behind these failed assassination attempts."
Frontier reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of evidence.
"It's a .45 ACP bullet that hit the old man," he said, holding it up.
Flashback: Frontier's eyes scanned the scene silently. From a distance, no one noticed him as he observed the road. In his mind, the motorcycle sped forward, bullets flying. One struck the old man. Frontier's gloved hand hovered over the wound, blood seeping through, as he analyzed the trajectory and damage without a word. His mask concealed his face, but his intense focus betrayed nothing.
"And… it's most likely from a Glock 21," he continued, his voice deep and measured. "A semi-automatic, commonly used by the LAPD, street gangs in L.A., and, frankly, just about anyone in the United States."
Cassandra's eyes narrowed slightly, processing the information, while Frontier's calm intensity filled the limousine like a shadow waiting to strike.
"Frontier, run a full investigation on this. Hunt him down," Cassandra said, her voice calm but firm.
"Yes, ma'am," Frontier replied, his deep voice measured and steady. The limousine glided off, the windows tinting back to dark as it disappeared into the road.
Back with the Tahoe and Crown Victoria, the vehicles were parked in a tight convoy formation. LAPD officers formed a barricade, keeping the media at bay and allowing Allysa to enter first.
"Move out, everyone! Move!" one cop barked.
"Ms. Allysa, what happened?" shouted reporters. "We need the full context of what happened!" Others yelled questions, cameras flashing and microphones extended, but Allysa ignored them, stepping into the Chevrolet Tahoe without a word.
Inside, Zion and Miguel occupied the front seats, alert and scanning, while Bernard, Allysa, and Nathalie settled in the back.
"Convoy 1, this is Convoy 2. Keep moving," Miguel said over the radio.
"Roger," Gary replied calmly, pressing the gas pedal. The Tahoe eased forward, escorted by a single LAPD unit, making its way down the streets of Los Angeles toward Santa Monica Boulevard.
Inside Convoy 2, silence hung thick. Allysa rested her head against Nathalie, holding her close. Bernard watched the streets passively, while Miguel's eyes never left the surrounding area. Zion drove with steady precision.
"Sis… are you okay?" Nathalie asked warmly.
"Yes, Nat… I'm fine," Allysa replied softly.
"Nathalie, you didn't tell us you were going there," Bernard said, curiosity threading his voice.
"Is it not allowed?" Nathalie countered, her voice quiet but edged with slight defensiveness.
"I didn't say anything about 'not allowed,'" Bernard replied, his tone slightly higher than usual.
"It sounds like it, David," Nathalie murmured, her tone calm yet distinctly feminine. Bernard muttered something under his breath, unamused.
Allysa remained quiet, clearly stressed, while the others in the front kept watch through the rearview mirrors.
Meanwhile, in Convoy 1 inside the Crown Victoria, Gary drove with Celine sitting beside him. The night passed in tense silence, punctuated only by the hum of the engine.
"Gary… are you alright?" Celine asked softly, scanning him with concern.
"Yes, Celine. Don't worry about me," he replied, his tone cold but calm, eyes fixed on the road.
"Gary, can you stop hiding it? I know deep down you're not fine," she said, her voice rising slightly.
"Celine, no need to raise your voice. And why would I hide anything, especially from you?" he said evenly, his focus unwavering.
"Gary… we've been partners for three years. You taught me deception, how to wear disguises… and you can't hide that from me. I can spot a liar the moment I see one," she said, her tone firm but worried.
Gary's jaw tightened slightly, the faintest hint of something unspoken flickering in his eyes as the road stretched ahead.
---
Somewhere in West Hollywood, L.A.
The sun burned bright, the sky an endless, clear blue. From the hilltop mansion, the city glittered like a distant, living map. Inside, light spilled over marble and mahogany; maids moved quietly through the dining room. At the head of the long table sat a man in his fifties, wrapped in a silk bathrobe, a hulking bodyguard standing like a shadow behind him.
One of the guards stepped forward. "Sir — the two men are here," he reported.
"Ted, let them in. In my honor," the man said, voice loud and self-satisfied.
"Yes, sir," Ted replied, calm and practiced.
Two figures in black motorcycle jackets walked into the room. One carried himself with swagger; the other kept his gaze steady and careful.
"Mr. Monarch," the first said, pride thick in his voice. "The mission's done. Just like you ordered."
"Well done, Jack and Dave. Come here — I'll get your paycheck." Monarch's grin was all teeth as they approached. He handed them a heavy envelope and laughed, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. "For your hard work. Ha—ha."
"So, our man is still in position?" Monarch asked, a polite curiosity undercutting the menace.
"Yes, boss. He gave us perfect coordination," Dave answered, chest puffed with quiet pride.
"Mr. Monarch — thank you." Jack scooped up the stack of bills, careful and satisfied. "If you need another hit, you know where to find us."
"Hahaha. I will," Monarch said, still amused. "You're dismissed. I have more important matters." His tone clipped the conversation like a blade.
"Yes, sir," Jack and Dave said in unison, the envelope heavy in their hands as they left.
Ted hesitated, then cleared his throat. "Uh… boss?"
Monarch turned, indulgent.
"Why didn't you just kill Allysa?" Ted asked, voice low and uncertain. "Not to offend, sir — they had the chance. Why let her live?"
Monarch's face darkened, the amusement sliding away. "You must know, Ted. I already have someone inside her circle. He will bring her to us. And her father…" His voice dropped, sharp and cold. "Her father will show himself to us, and he will pay for exposing the Monarch family."
The room seemed to lean in on that promise. The laughter was gone, replaced by a stillness that felt very much like danger.
The end chapter 3