《The Hijack》


 1:The Unwanted Meeting

    Morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Hudson Calloway''s penthouse, casting golden lines across the neat, minimalist decor. The only sound in the still bedroom was the reliable tick of the clock on the wall. Hudson sighed as he rolled under the blankets, his hand creeping out to his phone on the bedside stand.


    7:32 AM.


    He drew in a breath and ran a hand through his dark messy hair before sitting up. Another day, another job.


    Hudson climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom, and the cold water jolted him awake. The man he saw staring back at him was as sharp as ever¡ªbroad shoulders, chiseled jaw, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to be bored most of the time. He seemed to be what you''d assume of the son of a successful businessman¡ªwell-groomed, neat, and burdened by expectations he never asked for.


    As he walked out of the shower surrounded by steam, he heard his phone ringing on the counter. It was not necessary to go seek the identity of the caller. He knew that already.


    He grabbed it with a sigh.


    "Hudson." His father, William Calloway, spoke to him in a harsh tone. He played at life as a game of chess and considered his son just another piece to be moved.


    Good morning, Dad." Hudson breathed as he grabbed a white dress shirt and slipped it into place. His dad never expressed anything sweet- nothing was even said.


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    "Today, you''re going to meet her." The tone was abrupt, as if negotiating a business arrangement, not his son''s upcoming engagement.


    Hudson was caught mid-button. "Excuse me? "Eleanor Whitmore. I''ve already talked to her father about the plans. You''ll take her to the Grand Hotel of Midnight to dine. At seven."


    Hudson shut his eyes for a brief moment, suppressing the annoyance boiling inside him. It was not a suggestion but a command.


    And what if I say no?" he inquired, though they both already knew the answer.


    His father hesitated before he replied, his tone firm but even. "Then you can say goodbye to your inheritance."


    Hudson clenched his jaw. This was typical. It was never love, never for him. Just another business deal with a handshake and a whiskey.


    "Okay." He fastened his cuffs, his voice neutral. "I''ll be there."


    "Good." The line fell silent afterward.


    Hudson put down the phone, breathing out slowly through his nose. He knew the day would come sometime¡ªhis dad had been readying him for it for years¡ªbut it still wasn''t so much a life decision as signing a contract.


    Slipping into his watch and grabbing his suit coat, he gazed out the window at the city skyline that seemed to stretch on and on.


    A marriage of convenience. A future he never wished for.


    But he could never have dreamed how much worse the evening was to get.

 2:A Dinner for Strangers

    The Midnight Grand Hotel stood as a quiet monolith against the skyline, its high-rise building wrapped in a golden glow of light. It was the kind of place where fortunes were made and lost in a glass of whiskey, a refuge for the elite who gathered in whispered cliques to shape the world to their benefit.


    Hudson Carter stepped out of his shiny black car, barely giving a moment''s notice to the stunning glass entranceway towering above him. His driver, a man of advanced age who had worked for the Carter family for decades, caught his eye in the backview mirror and nodded in recognition.


    "Good luck, sir."


    Hudson breathed out. "Yeah. I''ll need it."


    As he stepped through the doors, the aroma of high-end cologne and newly trimmed roses enveloped him. The gentle buzz of conversation blended with the distant sound of a pianist playing softly in the reception area. Waiters in pristine uniforms glided through the crowd, their trays laden with glasses of wine and dainty hors d''oeuvres.


    All that did not count to him.


    His dad had made his move, so now it was his turn to play along.


    The restaurant was upstairs, a cozy refuge with floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a stunning view of the city below. Naturally, it was already booked¡ªhis father never left anything to chance.


    And next to the window, sitting was Eleanor Whitmore.


    She was definitely lovely. Her dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulder in flowing waves, and the emerald-green sheath dress she had on was plain and elegant. But it was her eyes that hit him the hardest¡ªkeen and clever, they mirrored his own fatigue back at him.


    She was just as unhappy with it as he.


    She turned her head to one side as he came nearer, giving him a polite but reserved smile. "Hudson Calloway, I suppose?"


    Hudson grinned as he pulled out his chair and sat down. "That''s me. And you are Eleanor."


    "In person," she added, setting her wine glass aside. "Let me take a guess¡ªyou were blackmailed into this little arrangement too?"


    Hudson smiled a bitter smile. "It''s not exactly volunteered, actually. My father gave me two choices: marry you or lose my business. And I''m not yet prepared to give up my firm, so here I am."


    Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "Ah, so you''re driven by the money."


    "Oh, pretend like you didn''t know any better," replied Hudson, rocking back in his chair with amusement. "You''re not exactly here for pure altruism."


    Eleanor released a gentle sigh, stirring the wine in her glass before taking a slow sip. "My father wants a union of your empire and mine. I''m certain yours does too."


    Hudson snorted. "Of course. Because where profit is concerned, love just doesn''t cut it."


    There was a moment of silence between them. The candlelight flickered on the table, creating whimsical shadows on the spotless white tablecloth.


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    Then Eleanor took a deep breath and leaned forward, hand on chin. "If we''re honest, I have to say¡ªI thought about standing you up tonight. About just leaving and making my father''s life miserable."


    Hudson grinned, his smile unmistakable. "Why didn''t you?"


    Eleanor smiled ironically. "Because, unfortunately, my bank accounts are still tied up in my family''s empire. And I rather like the life I lead."


    Hudson gave a nod of confirmation. "Ah, so we''re both in golden cages. How poetic." She tapped a perfectly manicured nail against her wine glass and regarded him sternly. "So tell me, Calloway. If we do proceed with this absurd arrangement, how do you see it playing out, exactly?"


    Hudson exhaled softly, his glass lifted but untouched. "We meet expectations. We get married, we make our fathers happy, we give smiles for the pictures. But in private? We live our own lives."


    Eleanor hummed reflectively, weighing his words. "No love. No real commitment."


    Hudson smiled. "Did you really think otherwise?"


    For an instant, she glared at him before finally shaking her head. "No. I suppose I didn''t."


    And then¡ª


    BANG!


    A loud gunshot echoed in the hotel.


    The restaurant''s erstwhile-refined atmosphere shattered instantly. Chatting ceased. The pianist''s fingers hung frozen over the keyboard.


    Then the screams erupted.


    From the ground floor, close to the reception, screams of panic rang out. The body of a security guard crashed onto the marble floor with a nauseating thud. More shots rang out¡ªhasty, relentless.


    Hudson gripped the glass tighter, his gaze flicking in the direction of the sound.


    "What the hell¡ª" Eleanor''s voice faltered. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the table.


    Hudson was on his feet.


    "Don''t move!"


    A voice sounded through the hotel''s speakers¡ªdeep, commanding, and charged with a disturbing stillness.


    Hudson''s glance shifted to the balcony that opened into the lobby. That was when he noticed them¡ªblack-clad men in tactical clothing, heavily armed, fanning out like specters. A dozen or more of them, locking down doors, overpowering guests.


    Then¡ª


    SLAM.


    The principal doors clanged shut behind with a foreboding sound. The electronic mechanisms activated.


    The hotel had become an isolated prison.


    Hudson''s jaw tightened. Shit.


    Eleanor''s voice was little more than a whisper. "This isn''t a robbery, is it?"


    Hudson was quiet, his thoughts already racing as he weighed the options.


    No exits. No way out. A hostage situation. And he and Eleanor were trapped right in the middle of it.

 3:The Call To Arms

    The city of Aston was always awake.


    Even at midnight, sirens wailed in the distance, blinding lights flashed on glass skyscrapers, and the rumble of cars never ceased. But to Elias Vance, none of it mattered.


    Not tonight.


    His apartment was a dim room that faced the city. It was plain and contained no unnecessary items scattered about. There were a few photographs on the wall: one of him when he was younger, standing with his ASPD unit, and they were proud. Another, older photograph was of a woman with a faint but genuine smile. The corners of this photograph were worn, as if it had been handled too many times.


    Elias pulled on a black T-shirt over his wide shoulders, his long silvery hair sweeping loosely down the middle of his back. He brushed it out with his fingers, exhaling hard as he scowled into the mirror in the bathroom.


    Blue eyes, piercing. A look that had witnessed much.


    The knuckle scars and the tension in his jaw indicated that he was a man who had been in danger for far too long.


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    ASPD''s Special Response Unit was not for the faint of heart. They were not the ones writing parking tickets. They were the ones who entered first when things got ugly¡ªthe last to leave when the smoke had cleared.


    Elias had stood for longer than most.


    His phone was vibrating on the table.


    He grabbed it and read the name that was being displayed on the screen. Captain Ross.


    "Vance, get back to HQ. Now."


    Elias furrowed his eyebrows. "I just finished a shift. What is it?"


    Ross replied curtly, with tension in each sentence. "We''ve got a problem. The Grand Hotel of Midnight has been overrun."


    Elias''s spine stiffened. "Hostages?"


    "Hundreds."


    He gripped the phone harder.


    "I''m on my way." He grabbed his ASPD jacket and threw it over his shoulders in a hurry. He already had ideas of what was to come.


    A Hijack in the heart of a city? It was no small-time operation.


    The individual who did that wasn''t just stating something. They were communicating a message.


    Elias was ready to give one back.

 4:The Briefing

    The ASPD headquarters were buzzing with activity.


    Elias Vance strolled through the central hall, among officers dashing between desks and speaking in short, tight sentences. Wall screens displayed live security feeds of the Grand Hotel of Midnight¡ªstuttering, distorted video of frightened civilians taken hostage at gunpoint. The feed kept breaking in and out, static hissing as the hotel jammers disrupted communications signals.


    Captain Nathan Ross stood at the head of a long table in the war room with his hands on the table. His weathered face was tense, and frustration lines etched his forehead. Behind him, senior officers and tactical analysts looked over blueprints of the hotel and whispered to each other.


    Elias came in, his rain-soaked silver hair still moist from the rain. He greeted no one.


    "Give me the situation." His voice was even, steady.


    Ross glanced up at a slight angle. "It''s bad, Vance. Bad."


    He pointed to the blueprints. "Grand Hotel of Midnight¡ª32 stories, completely cut off. Early reports indicate more than eighty hostiles, weapons at the ready. They have explosives, automatics, and¡­" He paused.


    The eyes of Elias narrowed. "And?"


    Ross exhaled. "They executed the front desk staff on arrival. No negotiations. No demands yet. Just bloodshed."


    The room descended into a somber silence.


    Elias stared at the screens. The security tape ran and ran from different parts of the hotel¡ªpeople lounging in the lobby, civilians kneeling on the marble floors, and masked men walking down the corridors with guns.


    This was not a simple takeover. These were professionals.


    "Is the ID of the group known?" Elias asked.


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    Ross shook his head. "Not yet. No declaration of responsibility. No taped chatter. It''s like they just appeared out of nowhere." Elias''s jaws clenched. That was impossible. Individuals such as this did not just turn up. Somebody had planned this, to the last minute.


    "What about Internal Security?"


    Ross winced. "Hotel security was eliminated in the first five minutes. We lost all internal communications afterwards. Cameras are operating barely. The entire place is booby-trapped¡ªany direct attack, and they''ll begin executing hostages."


    Elias scanned the layout of the hotel. Thirty-two stories, eighty-something hostiles, civilians all over.


    A complete siege was not possible.


    "Who''s inside?" he said.


    Ross''s eyes darkened. "VIP guests. Politicians, company executives, celebrities. But one name was predominant."


    He displayed a photograph on the screen. Hudson Calloway.


    Elias''s brow wrinkled. "The son of the billionaire?"


    Ross. "Calloway Enterprises is a leading company in this city. His father has that kind of influence where he can make the government change if he wants to. If something were to happen to Hudson.".


    The effects would be catastrophic.


    Elias said nothing. "It doesn''t change the job."


    Ross exhaled. "I knew you''d say that. We go in stealthily and quietly. Your squad will go in through the roof and descend. We''ll take out the high-priority targets and occupy one floor at a time."


    Elias read the map once more. "Five-man team?"


    Ross inclined his head. "You, Reynolds, Torres, Deke, and Carter. Best we''ve got."


    Elias sighed and stretched his fingers. "When do we leave?"


    Ross met his gaze.


    "Now."

 5:Slaughter

    The helicopter blades passed through the night air, the constant beat soft against the cacophonous wind. The Grand Hotel of Midnight loomed below, a glass-and-steel skyscraper, its formerly welcoming lights now flashing erratically.


    Inside the helicopter, Elias Vance and his five-man ASPD team were silent, all of whom gazed at the equipment in their hands. In their black tactical vests were a few spare magazines, communications gear¡ªif only because the jammers inside the hotel complex would make the gear useless, anyway¡ªand small SMGs strapped around their waist.


    Elias gazed at his rifle, then at his comrades. Reynolds, Torres, Deke, Carter¡ª hard men who were used to city combat. They had been trained for this.


    And still¡­something wasn''t right.


    Eighty-plus terrorists, zero demands? Too clean. Too perfect.


    The instant they touched down, it would become hell.


    Ross''s voice was heard in their earpieces. "ETA: 30 seconds. Stick to plan¡ªrooftop insertion, descend level by level. No heroics.".


    No heroics.


    Elias gripped his rifle more firmly. No way that was ever happening.


    The helicopter banked, reducing its speed as it approached the hotel rooftop. The helipad was empty, save for the neon "MIDNIGHT" sign flashing in the distance.


    "Move! Move! Move!"


    The ropes dropped. One by one, the team rappelled down, boots thudding on the rooftop in practiced silence. Elias landed last, scanning the perimeter. No resistance. No snipers.


    Too easy.


    Torres pointed ahead. "Roof access secure. In position."


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    They took up positions in front of the stairwell door, rifles high. Elias gestured. Torres kicked the door wide.


    And then¡ªhell broke loose.


    A metallic sound clinked.


    Grenade.


    "MOVE!" Elias cried.


    The world exploded. The blast ripped through the doorway, shrapnel slicing through the team.


    Deke was blown apart instantly.


    Reynolds fell, his leg in awful shape, screaming.


    Gunfire bursts from the shadows, muzzle flashes lighting the stairs.


    An ambush. They were waiting.


    Elias dove to the ground, rolled over, and shot blindly into the smoke. Bullets ricocheted off the walls. Torres dropped to the ground, blood spattering the concrete.


    Carter, struggling for breath, leaned against the railing, holding his throat¡ªhis blood flowing through his fingers.


    Reynolds attempted to crawl off, but a figure emerged from the smoke wearing a mask and¡ª


    BANG.


    One shot to the head.


    Elias was alone.


    His ears were ringing and blood on his lips. His tactical team, the ASPD''s best, was eliminated within less than one minute.


    This wasn''t a hijacking.


    This was a massacre.


    Emerging from the smoke was a figure¡ªa man wearing a dark vest, with his rifle slung loosely over his shoulder. Not hurrying. Unhurried.


    The man cocked his head, looking amused.


    Then he spoke.


    "You should have kept out of this, officer."


    Elias''s vision blurred.


    The last he remembered seeing when all went dark¡ª


    A boot slamming into his head forcefully.