Briggs’ mouth fell open. Outside, the ground began to shake. The sound of rotor blades thundered over the station. Black SUVs roared down the road, sirens wailing—not local, not state—federal. Every agent inside the vehicles knew exactly who had been taken. And they were coming.
The deputies turned to Briggs, fear spreading through them like wildfire. “What did you DO, Chief?”
But the real question was: What would Washington do when they found out how he treated her?
The station lights flickered as the first SUV screeched to a stop outside. Tactical teams poured out in full gear—FBI Hostage Rescue, DOJ Rapid Legal Response, DHS federal compliance officers. It looked less like an arrival. More like an invasion.
Inside, deputies backed away from the entrance. Briggs panicked. “Everyone STAY CALM. No one opens that door unless I say!”
But federal agents didn’t wait for permission. The doors blasted open with a hydraulic ram. A wall of armored agents surged into the lobby. “FEDERAL WARRANT!” a team leader shouted. “DO NOT MOVE!”
Briggs raised his hands, trembling. “This is a misunderstanding! She was impersonating—”
“Director Caldwell?” the team leader finished. Briggs froze. The agents didn’t look confused. They looked furious.
Nia was escorted out of her cell by two agents who treated her with the respect her office demanded. “Director, are you injured?”
“No,” she said. “Not physically.”
“Ma’am,” the team leader said, “by authority of the United States government, this facility is now under federal control.”
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