My Assistant Cried Rape And Named My Husband — But My Husband Is A Robot Chapter 04
When the cruisers pulled up in front of the building, it was a scene.
The night-shift security guard poked his head out, staring.
The detective stepped out and started assigning positions.
A few minutes later, he drew his sidearm and walked over to me.
“What kind of lock is on your door?”
“Smart lock. Fingerprint entry.”
“You’re going to help us open it.”
I held out my hand. “Fine. But it has to be my finger.”
The detective looked at me, then refused, flat.
“No. In case you trigger some remote alert and warn whoever’s inside.”
He turned and waved to the team behind him. “Battering ram. Up front.”
I couldn’t even find words. It’s a smart lock. Do you really need a battering ram?
Whatever. Somebody was going to pay for that door.
The elevator was too slow. The whole team pounded up the stairwell to the sixth floor.
Two SWAT officers held me by the arms, my cuffs jingling with every step.
At my door, the detective ran through his final positions.
Two officers stacked on either side of the frame, rifles raised, red-dot sights throwing tiny scarlet points on the doorjamb.
Behind them, an officer hoisted the battering ram, both hands on the grips, ready.
The detective raised three fingers. A silent countdown.
Three. Two. One.
BAM!
The SWAT team punched through like arrows.
“POLICE! FREEZE!”
“HANDS UP! ON THE GROUND! NOW!”
The living room lights were on. The smell of cooking still hung in the air.
Behind the island of the open kitchen, a tall man stood with his back to everyone.
There was a spatula in his hand.
He didn’t react to the shouting.
The detective roared louder:
“I said GET DOWN! HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD! Or we WILL open fire!”
No response.
The two lead officers exchanged a glance and moved in.
One locked an arm behind his back and twisted; the other slammed down on his shoulder.
And in that instant—
—