His shoes pounded against the carpeted floor as he sprinted down a side hallway, his suit jacket flying behind him as he ran with the kind of desperate speed that came from knowingsomeone's life depended on his next few decisions. Racing down the stairwell, he burst through the door into a hall that offered a tile floor.
"She's in the kitchen," Sadie's voice reported through his earpiece. "Moving deeper into the service areas."
Stopping at the swinging double doors leading to the kitchen, he stood to the side and peered through the round windows in the door. The view revealed a scene of chaos. The kitchen staff had raced out when the alarm sounded, leaving the kitchen in a mess. Several large rolling carts with trays were overturned, and the food remnants were smeared across the wet floor. The sprinkler system had activated, sending cascades of water from the ceiling that mixed with lingering smoke, creating a hazy, treacherous environment.
The industrial space stretched before him like a maze of stainless steel counters, many in the middle of food prep. Massive cooking equipment and hanging utensils created both obstacles and potential weapons.
Steam rose from hot surfaces where water met heated grills and stovetops, adding to the disorienting atmosphere. The acrid smell of smoke, wet surfaces, and burned food, mixed with the institutional odors of a commercial kitchen.
His breathing remained controlled despite the sprint through the hotel corridors, and his heartbeat remained steady, even with adrenaline coursing through his system. This wasn't just another military objective—this was about the woman who had become his entire world in a very short time.
“At main kitchen door,” he radioed.
“Right behind you,” Cole replied.
“Approaching loading dock,” Todd confirmed.
Frazier radioed, “Side kitchen door.”
Casper slowly opened the door and crept through.
"—waited so long for you to see me, really see me as more than just your brother," a voice echoed off the steel surfaces. Casper felt ice flood his veins as he recognized Doug Malone's distinctive tone, now distorted by obsession and manic energy.
Moving carefully across the wet, slippery floor, Casper used the massive prep tables and industrial equipment to mask his approach. Water dripped steadily from above, creating a constant percussion that helped cover the sound of his movement through the labyrinthine kitchen.
“Why didn’t you love me? Why won’t you love me now?” Doug pleaded. “Wake up, Rose. Wake up!”
Positioning himself behind a large commercial refrigerator, Casper assessed the tactical situation. Through the haze of steam and falling water, he could see Doug holding Willow's limp form against his chest near the industrial dishwashing station. Her evening gown was torn and soaked, her head lolling back against his shoulder in drugged unconsciousness, but he could see the slight rise and fall of her chest. Blood ran down her face from a forehead laceration, and Casper felt his control slipping.
“Easy,” Cole said in his ear. “Focus.”
Sucking in air through his nose, he let it out slowly, clearing his mind of everything except tactically taking Doug down.
Doug held a chef's knife, one of many that had been scattered across the prep counters when the chaos began. The blade gleamed wickedly in the emergency lighting, water droplets sliding down its edge as Doug's hand trembled with barely controlled excitement.
Sadie, having tapped into the hotel security cameras placed in the kitchen, said, “Target is armed with a kitchen knife. Willow appears unconscious.”
“I have visual. She’s drugged but alive. Frazier, Todd, report,” Casper spoke quietly while maintaining his focus.
"Covering the loading dock," Frazier whispered. "No exit that way."
“Coming in from the side,” Frazier reported.
Cole confirmed, “Moving to your right. No visual yet.”
Casper emerged from behind the refrigerator, his hands visible but his body ready to spring into lethal action. Water dripped from his hair and soaked his suit as he faced Doug across the treacherous kitchen floor.
"Let her go, Doug," he said, his voice carrying deadly calm that cut through the sound of falling water. "There's nowhere left to run."
Doug's head snapped up, his grip on the knife tightening as his eyes darted around the kitchen's multiple exits. "Stay back! You don't understand… she was never yours. Rose belonged to me first. I was there when she needed someone to talk to. I was always there."
As Doug began backing toward the loading dock exit, dragging Willow with him across the slick floor, her eyes suddenly fluttered open. Even through the steam and haze, and soaked with her wet hair slicked around her face, Casper could see her glassy, unfocused expression. But she moved as though fighting to consciousness through whatever drug Doug had used.
"You can't have her," Casper said, taking a careful step forward on the treacherous wet floor. "Kitchen's surrounded, Doug. Put the knife down."
Doug's breathing became erratic, steam swirling around him as he backed into a prep station loaded with hanging utensils that clattered ominously. "You don't know what you're talking about. She needs me. She's always needed me."
"Willow," Casper called gently, his voice cutting through Doug's rambling and the sound of falling water. "It's me. Casper. I'm here."
