"Police! Supernatural Enforcement Division! Open up!" The shout is clear, even through the closed windows of the SUV.
Silence follows. Then, another shout: "We have a warrant! Open the door or we'll force entry!"
More silence.
I hold my breath, watching as Logan and the tactical team position themselves around the door. One of them hefts a battering ram, ready to swing.
The ram swings forward, connecting with the door in a resounding crash. Once, twice, three times—and then the door gives way with a splintering crack.
Logan is the first one through, his gun drawn. The others follow close behind, their movements swift and coordinated. And then they're gone, swallowed up by the darkness of the house.
I strain my ears, desperate for any sound, any clue as to what's happening inside. But there's nothing—no shouts, no gunfire. Just an eerie, oppressive silence.
The officer across from me shifts, her hand moving to rest on her own weapon.
Fun update: Hand is broken. Updates will be sporadic! Apologies!