Page 64 of Undercover Hearts

No more time.

Michelle pressed the emergency signal on her communicator—three rapid pulses that would trigger immediate tactical intervention. The planned precision had collapsed, but the primary objective remained: secure evidence, apprehend leadership, extract safely.

"Phoenix Ridge Police Department," Michelle announced, her voice carrying clear authority as she raised her empty hands in a tactical stance. "This operation is now under police control."

Chaos erupted. Security personnel reached for weapons. Alina lunged for an alarm panel. Isabella disappeared toward a rear exit, Sienna close behind her.

Michelle seized the moment of confusion to lunge at the nearest security guard, executing a precise disarming maneuver that left her with the guard's weapon. In one fluid motion,she kicked open the documentation center door, finding Jenna already engaged in a struggle with Mina, who had seized her arm upon hearing Michelle's declaration.

"Police!" Jenna identified herself, breaking Mina's grip with a defensive move before snatching a letter opener from the desk. "Down on the ground, now!"

Michelle tossed the confiscated weapon to Jenna, who caught it with ease, immediately shifting to the proper stance as she covered Mina.

The sound of tactical teams breaching the perimeter filtered through the chaos—breaking glass, splintering wood, authoritative voices announcing police presence throughout the property.

"Extraction route compromised," Michelle reported into her communicator as Jenna secured Mina with zip ties. "Moving to secondary exit."

Jenna joined her at the door, weapon ready, financial evidence secured in her jacket pocket. "Sienna and Isabella?"

"Fleeing toward the east exit," Michelle confirmed. "Lieutenant Hodges has teams in position."

They moved in tandem through the chaos, years of training evident in their synchronized movements. Around them, PWC members were being secured by tactical officers, the organization's carefully constructed facade crumbling under the weight of justice finally arriving.

In the main room, Nicole attempted to destroy evidence, frantically deleting files from a laptop. Jenna intercepted her, securing her hands behind her back while preserving the digital evidence.

"Nicole Padilla, you're under arrest for conspiracy, drug trafficking, and in connection with the deaths of Beatrice Leblanc, Gabrielle Ellison, and Angelica Middleton."

With the formal charges delivered, Jenna handed Nicole to an approaching tactical officer before rejoining Michelle, who had secured their position near the east exit.

"Isabella and Sienna proceeded through here," Michelle confirmed, the tracking device in her watch indicating movement toward the cliffside path. "Tac team two in pursuit."

They moved through the exit, night air cool against their skin as they jogged on the stone pathway cutting along the cliffside. Ahead, flashlight beams pierced the darkness as teams converged on the fleeing suspects.

"This way," Michelle directed, leading them toward the rendezvous point where Detective Rivers waited with extraction vehicles.

They had advanced perhaps twenty yards when Michelle spotted movement to their left, a figure emerging from the landscaping with weapons raised. Kendall Buchanan had circled behind them, her military training evident in her stealth and positioning.

"Drop your weapons," Kendall commanded, her aim unwavering. "Operation over."

Michelle and Jenna froze, weapons still drawn but pointed groundward—a tactical standoff as sirens wailed in the distance.

"It's finished, Kendall," Michelle stated with calm authority. "Your entire operation is compromised. Tactical teams have the property surrounded. Evidence secured."

"Evidence of what?" Kendall countered, her voice eerily composed. "A legitimate women's advocacy group importing educational materials? The charges won't stick."

"The financial records connect direct payments from PWC to the families of Beatrice Leblanc and the others," Jenna replied. "Hush money after they died from your designer drugs."

Something flashed across Kendall's features—surprise quickly masked by cold calculation.

"The women who led this operation may face justice," Kendall said, her weapon never wavering. "But some of us cannot afford that luxury."

Michelle registered the subtle shift in Kendall's stance, the minute adjustment in her aim that professional experience identified as prelude to firing. Without conscious thought, she moved—a rapid calculation of angles and timing that required no deliberation.

"Weapon down!" she commanded, her own gun rising to center mass.

Kendall's finger tightened on the trigger, her decision made. In the split second before she fired, Michelle saw where her aim had settled.

Not on Michelle. On Jenna.