Steve struggled with the bonds on his wrists and ankles. There was no play there, and no prospect that he would be able to break free. The muscles in his shoulders and the top of his back throbbed with a fearsome ache, locked into an unnatural position for who knew how long, and his hands and feet were almost completely numb. His frustration grew with each passing minute, and it felt like he'd been locked up in the dark and suffocating container for eternity.
He'd tried to find a way to escape. Tried calling out for help, kicking at the metal to get the attention, but his efforts were met with nothing but silence. Eventually, he stopped trying. He decided to save the energy for later, certain that an opportunity would come. Pushing himself up, he rested his back and head against the unforgiving metal wall of his prison, wondering how quickly the evening had taken a turn.
A surge of anguish coursed through his veins as he thought of his friends, his team, and the devastating explosion that had torn through somewhere in Waikiki. How had Makoni found out about the team's whereabouts? How long he'd been watching them, waiting for the perfect moment to strike? The questions lingered, but the answers held little relevance in the face of the reality he now faced.
Makoni had pressed that detonator button, and innocent lives had likely been claimed as a result. Whether his friends had survived or not remained a torturous mystery. The uncertainty clawed at his soul, consuming him alive. Just like the guilt that pressed upon him heavily.
If Makoni's sole intention was to exact revenge upon Steve, then he couldn't escape the responsibility for every casualty left in the wake of that monster. Each life lost was a reminder of his troubled past. Of devastating consequences that seemed to follow every single decision in his life.
The pain of loss, the soul-sucking feeling that accompanied it, was something Steve could never grow accustomed to. He'd lost Freddie, then his father, Joe. And now the looming possibility that his ohana might be gone as well made him physically ill. The thought of such a devastating loss threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn't bear the idea of it.
He took a deep, calming breath in through his nose, filling his lungs completely with a count of four. Then he held his breath for four seconds before slowly exhaling through his mouth, counting to four again. He held his breath for another four seconds, then started the whole process again. Combat breathing. Something he'd been taught a long time ago, and it never failed to manage stress and keep his focus in high-pressure situations.
After four cycles, he could feel his composure returning. He refused to surrender to despair, to let the darkness consume him completely. He drew strength from the flickering embers of hope.
That's when he heard voices coming from the outside. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but someone was out there. Steve saw the opportunity.
"Hey!" he called out. "Hey! Anyone there?"
Nothing. He could still hear the weak echo of discussion.
"Hey!" he tried again, louder. He sat up straight and scooted closer to the entrance, adjusting his position to kick the wall. Once. Twice. Three times. "Let me out of here!"
The voices went silent. Then, footsteps approached, getting louder and closer every second. Steve tried to estimate the number of people, but he couldn't say.
"Over here!" he shouted again.
The footsteps stopped at the doorway and a metallic creaking reverberated through the enclosed space, followed by the jangling keys and the struggling latch. Then there was a haunting squeal of rusty hinges as the door swung open, filling the container with soft natural light. It was almost sunrise if the lightening color of the skies was anything to go by.
The door got filled by a silhouette of a tall and bulky man. By the hateful look in his eyes, he wasn't here to help him. More likely to shut his mouth up.
Steve readied himself for what was about to come.
The man lunged with his fist closed from a foot away. Whether because of his inexperience with live hostages or the abundance of energy cursing through him, Steve silently thanked him for his foolishness. All the man wanted to do was sink the fist into Steve's face, and he dropped his guard in order to throw as much effort as possible into the lunge.
Steve launched sideways, rolling out of reach. At the same time, the man tripped over Steve's leg, recoiling from the sudden shift in energy but unable to halt his momentum in time. He sprawled past Steve, slamming his shoulder into the metal wall.
Steve rolled along his back and sprung to his feet, ankles still locked together.
The constriction of the cable ties sent terror coursing through him, but he quashed it. He was horrendously disadvantaged — but that hadn't stopped him before.
Despite the stumble, he managed to maintain the balance. He turned, his face carrying a shocked expression. Most likely he hadn't expected a tied-up man to put up a fight.
A quick movement of his hand caught Steve's attention. Surely enough, a split second later, the man's fingers were locked around the knife handle.
Steve swore. He hadn't counted on that. He'd simply assumed Makoni's men would keep him alive until their boss changed his mind. This one either didn't care, or he had his own agenda. Either way, it didn't matter in the heat of combat.
As the man made to lunge again with a knife, Steve leaned his head back and swung a headbutt into his face, throwing everything in the blow. Steve's skull connected with the man's jaw hard enough to fracture the bone.
Steve's vision swam and pain erupted in his head, but he paid it no attention. The man, surprised by such a vicious blow and in loads of pain himself, recoiled and let go of the knife. It clattered on the floor between them.
Aware that whoever the man had been talking to would be inside within seconds, Steve didn't lose time. He felt animalistic urgency spur him into action. He dropped down and rolled onto his back, seizing the knife by the handle, spinning as he did so.
He sawed viciously at the cable ties — it only took a second to sever the thick plastic. With his hands free, he lashed out at the inches of space between his ankles, cutting those bonds too.
Just like that, he was free.
In a fair fight, Steve fancied his chances even though the man was close to Steve's height but twenty pounds heavier. But now he was unarmed. Steve barely paid him any attention as he spun on the spot, anticipating the inevitable response to the commotion.
Just in time…
Another beefy man was halfway into the container with a handgun at the ready. Steve had no choice but to hurl the knife and hope for the best. If he hit nothing, it would provide an ample distraction to close the distance and turn the confrontation into a brawl.
In the end, nothing further was necessary. In the blink of an eye, the man's head snapped back and he ricocheted off the far wall, life sapping from his limbs. Steve ground to a halt, stunned by what he saw. The serrated blade was lodged halfway into the guy's skull above his right eye. His eyes stayed open as he slumped to the floor, blank and glassy. The handgun skittered away and stopped just a few feet outside of the container.
Steve lunged, ready to run for it, but yet another man halted his movement by getting between Steve and the gun. Steve crashed into him, his momentum sending both of them to the floor in a brawl. The guy landed on top, cradling Steve's legs with his own as his fists rained down on Steve's face with surprising speed.
Steve could feel fresh blood pooling in his mouth as some of them connected anyway. He threw his head sideways with the last one and came back with a punch of his own, right at the side of the man's head. Not enough to put him down.
Sensing movement behind him, Steve managed a half turn to see the man with a broken jaw standing above him. A split second too late.
The man crashed the butt of a handgun into Steve's head with all the power he had. Steve's head snapped to the side, his senses rattled. Using the distraction against Steve, the man below turned and shot up to his feet, landing a vicious kick at Steve's stomach in the process.
Steve grunted, reaching out for the man's leg but his hand connected with nothing but thin air. Meanwhile, another kick crashed into the small of his back, this time from a man with a broken jaw.
His body convulsed with pain as the relentless blows rained down on him. Each strike felt like a hammer hitting his battered form, threatening to shatter his resolve. Laying there, he desperately tried to protect himself, to retaliate, but the two remaining assailants didn't give him another opportunity.
The world spun around him, his vision blurred. Blood mingled with the metallic taste in his mouth as his body screamed for respite.
Summoning the remnants of his energy, Steve mustered a surge of adrenaline-fueled strength. Despite the agony pulsating through every nerve ending in his face, he summoned the strength to construct a mental fortress against the pain. With sheer determination, he attempted to rise to his feet, desperately striving to escape the clutches of his assailants.
But one of the men threw a deceptive head kick, feinting one way before lurching back in the other direction and swinging a shin like a baseball bat at Steve's face.
And just like that… Lights out.
Danny stood on the rocky cliff just minutes east of Honolulu, his tired eyes fixed on the horizon. The first glimmers of dawn began to paint the sky with hues of orange and pink, signaling the imminent arrival of a new day. The sunrise was breathtaking, its beauty magnified by the vast expanse of the ocean. The shimmering waters seemed to dance in harmony with the emerging light, as if nature itself had conspired to create a moment of serenity.
However, the rhythmic crashing of the waves below failed to provide any relief from the chaos of the night, and the sight held a stark contrast to the empty wreck of Steve's Silverado being pulled out of the ocean thirty feet below.
The realization that Steve wasn't inside the vehicle when it was driven off the cliff did little to ease Danny's mind. It didn't mean his best friend was alive.
Anxiously, he watched as the divers worked, now at the surface, hoping the wreckage would provide answers to the multitude of questions plaguing his mind.
His head throbbed with every beat of his heart, his temple pulsating in time with the crashing waves. Together with the sharp twinge in his chest with every breath it served as a painful reminder of the explosion that was surely already the main topic on every news channel in the country.
As the sun climbed higher, casting its golden rays across the vast expanse, the weight of the whole situation gnawed at him. The casualties left in the wake of the attack. The seriousness of such a violent act carried out in public. The urgency to find those responsible before they struck again. The fear it would spread across the community.
But how could he focus on any of that, knowing Steve was in trouble? Possibly even–
He forced the dark thoughts out of his head. There was no body, which meant Steve could be alright. As long as that was the case, Danny wouldn't give up hope.
"Detective?"
He turned to face a middle-aged woman approaching him with a plastic bag in her hand. "Our divers found this in the water, too," she said, extending the bag toward him. "I thought you might want it."
Danny let out a sigh. There was a phone in the bag. Steve's phone.
"Thanks." He took it, staring at the device as if it held all the answers.
"I'm not sure if you'll be able to retrieve anything from it," she said. "Good luck."
"I'll take this to the lab and see. You got anything else?"
She shook her head. "Just the rock we found under the driver's seat. It appears to have been used to keep the gas pedal pressed down after the driver exited the vehicle."
"Uh-uh."
"CSU team will get to work as soon as the truck is on the land, but I'm afraid it's highly unlikely they'll find any fingerprints if it's been down there the whole night. The saltwater and water movement can quickly degrade–"
"Any organic materials, including fingerprints," Danny finished. "I know. Check anyway."
"We will."
"Let me know if you come across anything else," Danny said and turned to leave, holding onto the hope that perhaps Steve's phone would provide him with clues to where to start the search for his missing partner.
*to be continued*
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