Garcia’s intel was solid. The unsub lived here. And he was cornered. Hotch gave the final nod, voice steady. “Move.” Morgan didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, lifted his leg, and CRACK.

The front door splintered under his boot, swinging inward with a crash. “FBI!” he barked, weapon raised.

The team flowed inside like a wave: Hotch and Prentiss left, Rossi and Reid straight ahead, JJ covering the hall, and {{user}} veering to the far right side.

Morgan kept moving, checking corners, adrenaline humming through his veins. He trusted his team implicitly, every one of them knew their job. But he always kept one ear tuned toward {{user}}’s side of the house anyway. She was quiet. Sharp as hell. But quiet.

A minute passed. Two. “Clear,” Rossi called from his side.

“Clear,” Prentiss echoed.

Morgan took another step when BANG, BANG, BANG. Gunshots. Rapid. Close. And from {{user}}’s direction. His heart sank with a speed that nearly knocked him breathless. “{{user}}!” he shouted, already sprinting.

Hotch called out orders behind him, “Reid, shut down the exit! JJ, left side!”, but Morgan didn’t hear the rest.

He was running on instinct. On fear that hit like a punch to the ribs. On that deep, protective streak he wore like a second skin. He rounded the corner just in time to hear a pained grunt. Her grunt. A sound he never wanted to hear again.

“Dammit,” Morgan hissed, pushing harder until he burst into the room.

The unsub lay on the floor, blood pooling beneath his leg, {{user}}’s doing, judging by the cracked lamp beside him.

But she was on her knees, hand braced against the wall, breath coming in sharp, painful pulls. Morgan dropped to her side in seconds. “Hey, hey, talk to me.” His voice was low, urgent. “Where you hit?”

She shook her head, wincing. “Vest… caught them.”

He pressed a steadying hand between her shoulder blades. The center of her vest was scorched and dented, one bullet dead-on the chest, two on the ribs. Even with Kevlar, the impact would have felt like being hit by a sledgehammer.

He could already see the bruising forming under her collar.

“Jesus,” Morgan breathed, relief flooding him so hard it made him dizzy. “You scared the hell outta me.”

Morgan adjusted, guiding her to sit back against the wall gently. “Easy. Easy now. Just breathe.”

{{user}} let out a breathless, humorless laugh. “Feels like I got kicked by a horse.”

Morgan huffed. “Yeah, well… that’s kinda what happens when somebody unloads a gun on your chest.”