It was said that the CIA had once used fingernail removal combined with hydrochloric acid as an interrogation technique. Toilet cleaner, which contained diluted hydrochloric acid, worked just fine in a pinch.
In reality, Douglas Stevenson had cracked the moment his first fingernail was torn off. Everything Bryan did afterward was just to verify whether he was telling the truth.
Jack had heard of many CIA torture methods, but the only one he had personally witnessed before was waterboarding. Today had been a learning experience.
He wasn't remotely worried about legal repercussions. The three kidnapped girls all came from powerful backgrounds. Even Castle—technically the "poorest" among them—was exceptionally well-connected, with friends in every echelon of New York's elite.
No one in the FBI would challenge him over this. If anything, higher-ups might even commend him for his decisiveness. Human rights were never truly universal.
Once NYPD arrived to clean up, Jack took Bryan and Beckett straight to the farm address Stevenson had provided.
While Jack had full confidence in both his and Bryan's combat abilities, this wasn't a simple shootout—it was a hostage rescue.
Three girls were being held. Two men alone couldn't possibly cover them all. On the other hand, too many people increased the risk of mistakes.
Jack had worked with the FBI-SWAT team in New York many times before. While they weren't quite an extension of his own arm, they were trustworthy.
—
Two hours later, just as Jack's team reached the farm, Jubal arrived with a six-man SWAT unit and the entire fugitive task force. They also brought Jack's personal gear.
New York State Troopers had secured the surrounding roads, while two NYPD helicopters hovered overhead, standing by.
Castle had come along as well. Though his eyes were still bloodshot, he looked significantly better after resting.
After donning his tactical gear, Jack turned to find Castle staring at him anxiously. He grabbed Beckett and pulled her aside.
"Keep an eye on him. If necessary, cuff him. If he tries to run in, shoot him in the leg."
Castle was the biggest wild card here. Bryan, on the other hand, was already suited up in a bulletproof vest, armed with the backup pistol Jack had given him.
Castle, for once, didn't crack a joke. He grabbed Bryan's shoulder with pleading eyes. "Please… promise me you'll keep Alexis safe."
Bryan nodded silently, then gestured to the SWAT team and fugitive task force. "These guys do this for a living. They've trained for hostage rescues over and over. They know how to handle every possible scenario."
"I know. I know Jack and his team have been through worse. I just can't stop thinking about…" Castle trailed off, unable to say the words.
Jack finished checking his rifle and punched Castle lightly on the shoulder. "Stay optimistic. It's been less than twenty-four hours. The kidnappers haven't even called for a ransom yet. They're still alive."
Castle's lips trembled, but he didn't voice any further pessimistic thoughts.
Still, Jack wasn't reassured. He had seen Castle's protagonist aura work in bizarre ways before. Just in case, he leaned in and quietly instructed JJ to keep a very close eye on him.
Jack was serious about this. It wasn't just Alexis' life on the line—there were two other girls involved.
If it had only been Alexis, Jack wouldn't have been worried at all. He would've dragged Castle along, figuring his plot armor would help guide them to a lucky outcome.
But the story had already gone off the rails. Castle's protagonist aura might protect his daughter—but what about Kim? If she ended up dead because Castle did something reckless, there wouldn't be a force on Earth that could stop Bryan from tearing him apart.
Jack didn't care for cosmic coincidences. Right now, he needed control.
—
"The drone's back." Jubal approached, holding a tablet. "That's our SUV—the black Yukon."
Jack studied the satellite map, comparing the drone footage and marking key points.
The main farmhouse was an old brick building, and the kidnappers' vehicle was parked right out front. Next to it stood a large barn, which drone scans confirmed was empty—it had likely been abandoned for years.
According to NYPD records, the farm had been foreclosed on five or six years ago and had remained unclaimed ever since. It was the perfect hideout.
Jack divided the teams:
Half the SWAT unit would enter through the front with him as the main assault force. Hannah and the SWAT snipers would cover from the east and west sides. Clay and Aubrey would flank from the overgrown backyard, securing the rear exit.
With the plan set, they moved out. Jack led the charge, a SWAT breacher right behind him with a battering ram, and Bryan bringing up the rear.
Then—
Jack and Bryan both halted at the same time, their gazes locking onto something on the farmhouse's porch.
A brand-new security camera. Completely out of place.
A very bad feeling crept up Jack's spine.
"GO! GO! GO!!!"
Jack roared, throwing caution aside. He didn't care about hiding his unnatural strength anymore. Pivoting his body, he exploded forward like a battering ram, slamming his shoulder into the farmhouse door.
The door, hinges, and part of the frame shattered under the impact. The SWAT breacher hesitated mid-swing, momentarily stunned.
Bryan surged past him, right on Jack's heels.
"FBI!"
Since their presence had already been compromised, speed was now the only thing that mattered. Jack didn't follow normal room-clearing protocols—he moved with purpose, ignoring irrelevant areas and heading straight for the places most likely to hold hostages.
"Clear!"
"No one here!"
"Clear!"
The first floor was empty.
The second floor—empty.
The basement—empty.
Except for one body.
—
"You're sure there aren't any secret rooms or underground bunkers?" Castle demanded, trailing after Jack into one of the bedrooms.
"We checked everything—including the barn." Jack pointed at the pile of discarded clothing on the floor. "But I do know for a fact that the girls were here."
He gestured toward three coats. "Bryan already confirmed that the yellow one is Kim's."
Castle's gaze locked onto the green one. "Alexis' coat." His voice trembled. "Their jackets are here, but they're gone. What does that mean?"
Castle's panic was mirrored in Beckett's expression as she instinctively grabbed his arm.
"It means a lot of things," Jack said, eyes flicking toward the security camera. "Whoever we're dealing with isn't just a bunch of amateur kidnappers. This farm was just a holding site. The real mastermind already moved them."
Then, pulling open a trapdoor in the floor, he muttered, "And that's not even the strangest part. Come look."
A wave of iron and acid hit them as they descended.
Strapped to a chair, bloodied and lifeless, was Roger Hansen—the man they thought was in charge.
His body was drenched in dried blood. A bullet hole marked his forehead.
Bryan crouched beside him, checking the wounds.
"He was tortured," Castle noted, voice hollow. His eyes fixated on Hansen's fingers. "His nails… they're all gone."
"And whatever they used on him wasn't just pulling them out," Jack murmured. The fingertips had been corroded, turning black and yellow.
Beckett's eyes went wide. "You two—"
"We found him like this," Jack cut in, already knowing what she was thinking. They had just done something similar to Stevenson hours ago.
"It's a CIA technique," Bryan confirmed grimly.
Castle's voice cracked. "You're telling me—another CIA operative did this?"
Jack turned to Bryan. "Any of your contacts?"
Bryan shook his head. "I only asked them to do research. If they acted, I would know."
His expression darkened as he handed Jack a small paper-wrapped object. "But this is what I don't understand. Care to explain?"
Jack unwrapped it, revealing a burner phone.
Scrawled on the paper was a single message:
"Jack, they're in Paris. Come alone. I need your help."
______
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