Chapter 24
Brody
Sweat beaded on my forehead as I adjusted the heavy bag, testing its weight with a solid jab. The satisfying thud of impact reverberated through my knuckles, grounding me in the familiar rhythm of the gym. Around me, the children’s class had begun, their excited voices and shuffling feet adding to the symphony of sounds that usually brought me peace. But today, like every day since Jenny’s disappearance, even the gym felt hollow.
“Eyes on your partner, not your feet,” Sensei called to the kids, his voice carrying that perfect blend of authority and encouragement. “Remember what we practiced last week—control your movement, control your opponent.”
I watched him demonstrate the stance again, his form perfect despite his age. Twenty children mirrored his movements with varying degrees of success, their faces scrunched in concentration. Jenny should have been among them, her small face fierce with determination, always the first to master a new technique.
The thought sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing through me. I’d trained that kid for years, taught her to stand up to bullies twice her size, but when it really mattered—when monsters came for her—all that training hadn’t been enough. Where was she right now? Was she cold, hungry, scared? Was she even still—
No. I couldn’t let my mind go there.
I turned back to the heavy bag, throwing a combination that made the chain rattle against its hook. Jab, cross, hook, uppercut. The familiar sequence normally cleared my head, but today each impact just fueled my frustration. Not hard enough. Not fast enough. Not enough.
“Brody,” Sensei’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Show the class that combination again. The one with the sweep.”
I nodded, grateful for the distraction. Moving to the center of the mat, I demonstrated the sequence slowly, breaking down each component. “The key is timing,” I explained, my voice automatically shifting to teaching mode. “You want your opponent’s weight on their back leg before you—”
The front door swung open, letting in a blast of cool morning air. I glanced up, expecting a late student or perhaps an early client.
My heart stopped.
A small figure stood in the doorway, swaying slightly. Filthy clothes hung from her thin frame, dark hair matted with dirt and what looked horribly like dried blood on her shirt. Her face was nearly unrecognizable under layers of grime and bruising, but those eyes—I’d know those eyes anywhere.
“Jenny?” The name escaped me as barely a whisper.
The gym went silent. Twenty children and Sensei turned toward the door, frozen in collective shock. The only sound was the rhythmic tick of the wall clock and the soft hum of the air conditioning.
Jenny took one small step forward, her movement painfully uncertain, like a newborn fawn. “Brody?” Her voice cracked around my name, so small and broken that it shattered something inside me.
I was across the room before I realized I’d moved, dropping to my knees before her. Up close, the damage was worse—cuts on her face, dark bruises blooming on her arms, one shoe missing, her foot wrapped in what looked like part of her t-shirt. She smelled of fear and dirt and city streets.
“Jenny,” I said again, afraid to touch her, afraid she might disappear if I did. “Is it really you?”
She swayed again, her eyes unfocused. “I knew you’d be here,” she whispered. “I knew…” Her legs buckled.
I caught her as she collapsed, her small body weightless in my arms. She was burning with fever, her skin hot against mine. Behind me, I heard Sensei’s sharp orders, the shuffling of the class being dismissed, his voice on the phone calling for an ambulance.
“Jenny, stay with me,” I urged, cradling her against my chest. Her eyes fluttered, struggling to stay open. “You’re safe now. You’re home.”
Her hand clutched weakly at my shirt, leaving smudges of dirt against the fabric. “Silent Guy,” she murmured, tears cutting clean tracks through the grime on her face. “He helped me escape. But they—they killed him. I ran, just like you taught me.”
My throat closed with emotion. “You did good, kiddo. So good.”
“They were going to move me,” she continued, her words slurring with exhaustion. “Three days…deadline…something about Bella…”
Ice formed in my stomach. Whatever connection existed between Jenny’s kidnapping and Scarlett’s attack was no longer theoretical—it was confirmed by Jenny’s own words.
“Don’t talk now,” I said gently, brushing matted hair from her forehead. “Just rest. The ambulance is coming.”
Her eyes widened with sudden panic. “No hospitals,” she gasped, struggling weakly in my arms. “They’ll find me there. They said they’d—”
“Shh,” I soothed, holding her more securely. “No one’s going to find you. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” The promise was a vow I’d make good on if it was the last thing I did.
Sensei kneeled beside us, his face a mask of controlled emotion. “Her brothers are still in Memorial Hospital,” he said quietly. “I’ve notified them we’re bringing her in. They’re alerting security now.”
Jenny’s breathing had grown more labored, her small body trembling despite the heat radiating from her skin. The fever worried me—how long had she been sick? How far had she traveled in this condition?
“The ambulance is three minutes out,” Sensei continued, his hand gentle on Jenny’s shoulder. “We should move her to the office, away from prying eyes.”
I nodded, rising carefully with Jenny still cradled against me. Her head lolled against my shoulder, eyes fighting to stay open. “Stay with me, kiddo,” I murmured as I carried her toward the back office. “Just a little longer.”
The office was quiet and dim, late morning sunlight filtering through blinds that were perpetually half-closed. I laid Jenny on the worn leather couch where I’d crashed countless times during intense training periods, carefully arranging her to avoid pressing on visible injuries.
“Water,” she whispered, her cracked lips barely moving.
Sensei was already there with a bottle, helping her take small sips. “Easy,” he cautioned. “Not too fast.”
I pulled out my phone, fingers shaking slightly as I typed out a group message to Scarlett, Drake, and Graham: Jenny’s at the gym. Alive. Ambulance coming. Meet at Memorial.
Responses came immediately, a flurry of texts expressing shock, relief, and urgent questions. I silenced the phone, needing to focus entirely on the child before me.
“How did you find us?” I asked gently, kneeling beside the couch. “Do you know where you were being held?”
Jenny’s eyes were glazed with fever, but her voice steadied slightly. “A warehouse… somewhere with trees. I ran through the forest after—after Silent Guy distracted them.” Fresh tears welled in her eyes. “He was FBI, Brody. He was undercover, and he saved me, and they killed him.”
My jaw clenched at the information. An undercover FBI agent—this was bigger than we’d imagined. “You’re incredibly brave, Jenny,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “But how did you get all the way to the gym?”
“A truck driver,” she murmured, her eyelids growing heavier. “Then walking. The subway… a man tried to grab me, but I got away.” A ghost of a smile touched her cracked lips. “I remembered what you taught me about using their momentum. I broke his knee, I think.”
Pride surged through me, fierce and unexpected. This tiny warrior had fought her way through hell to get back to us. “That’s my girl,” I said softly.
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder. Jenny tensed at the sound, panic flaring in her eyes again. “Don’t leave me,” she pleaded, her hand finding mine with surprising strength. “Promise you won’t leave me alone.”
“I promise,” I said, squeezing her hand gently. “I’ll be right with you, every step of the way.”
Sensei returned from meeting the paramedics at the front door, leading them back to the office. They moved efficiently, checking vital signs, asking brief questions, preparing Jenny for transport. Through it all, I kept her hand in mine, a lifeline she clung to with what little strength she had left.
“Significant dehydration,” one paramedic murmured to his partner. “Possible infection in that foot wound. Temp’s 103.2.”
“We need to move now,” the other responded, adjusting the oxygen mask they’d placed over Jenny’s face.
As they lifted her onto the stretcher, I rose with them, maintaining my grip on her hand. When one paramedic gave me a questioning look, I shook my head. “I promised I wouldn’t leave her. I’m coming with you.”
To his credit, the man didn’t argue. “You her family?”
“Close enough,” I replied, my tone leaving no room for debate.
Sensei squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll lock up and meet you there. I’ve already called her parents—they’re on their way to the hospital now.”
Jenny was barely conscious as they wheeled her out to the waiting ambulance, the bright morning sunlight making her flinch even with her eyes closed. The neighbors from the bookstore next door watched curiously, and I saw Ms. Robb from the bakery cross herself at the sight of Jenny’s battered form.
“Is that the missing girl?” someone whispered as we passed. “The one from the posters?”
I ignored them all, climbing into the ambulance beside the stretcher. Jenny’s hand felt fragile in mine, her pulse fluttering weakly beneath my fingers. The paramedics worked around me, inserting an IV, attaching monitors, speaking in the clipped professional language of emergency medicine.
“She’s a fighter,” one told me kindly as the doors closed and the ambulance pulled away. “Kids are remarkably resilient.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak past the lump in my throat. Jenny was alive—against all odds, she’d survived and found her way back to us. But the dark bruises marring her tawny skin, the unhealthy flush of fever, the haunted look in her eyes when she’d mentioned Silent Guy’s death—those wounds would take longer to heal than any physical injury.
The ambulance wove through morning traffic, siren clearing a path as we raced toward Memorial Hospital. I found myself studying Jenny’s face, memorizing every cut and bruise, cataloging the injuries those men had inflicted on this child. Each mark fed the cold fury building inside me—the Beast stirring, demanding retribution.
Jenny’s eyes fluttered open briefly. Through the oxygen mask, she mumbled something I couldn’t catch.
“What’s that, kiddo?” I leaned closer, ear near her mask.
“Did I leave enough… breadcrumbs?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the ambulance’s noise. “Silent Guy said… to leave breadcrumbs…”
“You did perfectly,” I assured her, though I didn’t understand the reference. “You found your way home.”
She seemed satisfied with that, her eyes closing again as exhaustion claimed her. The paramedic adjusted something on her IV, and Jenny’s breathing eased slightly.
“She’s asking about breadcrumbs,” I told him, hoping he might understand. “Something about leaving breadcrumbs.”
The paramedic’s expression sharpened with interest. “Like Hansel and Gretel?”
He didn’t finish the thought, but the implication was clear. Jenny might have left clues that could lead authorities to her captors—and to the body of the FBI agent who’d helped her escape.
My phone buzzed with an incoming call—Drake. I answered quickly, keeping my voice low.
“How is she?” Drake asked without preamble, the background noise suggesting he was already in his car.
“Alive, but not great,” I replied honestly. “Dehydrated, feverish. She escaped through the woods somehow, made it back to the city on her own.”
Drake’s sharp intake of breath was audible. “Oh damn. That kid is something else. Listen, there’s more happening—Scarlett was attacked at work this morning.”
My heart stuttered. “What? Is she—”
“She’s okay,” Drake reassured me quickly. “Felicia cornered her in the stairwell, but Scarlett fought back. Felicia went over the railing. She’s dead, Brody.”
The news hit me like a physical blow. Felicia dead. The woman who had attacked Scarlett months ago, had nearly had her killed, was gone. I should have felt relief, but all I could think was that we’d lost our best lead to whoever was behind all this.
“There’s more,” Drake continued. “Before she died, Felicia confirmed the connection between Scarlett’s attack and Jenny’s kidnapping. And her assistant, Aria, apparently implicated the CEO before trying to run.”
“Jenny mentioned a deadline,” I said, keeping my voice low as the paramedic checked her vitals again. “Three days. Something about Scarlett.”
A heavy pause on the other end. “A trade,” Drake said finally. “Remember? They wanted to trade Jenny for Scarlett.”
Cold rage washed through me at the thought. “Over my dead body,” I growled.
“That’s what Graham said.” Drake’s voice carried a hint of grim humor. “Look, I’ll meet you at the hospital. Graham’s bringing Scarlett once the police finish taking her statement. Don’t let Jenny out of your sight.”
“I won’t,” I promised, ending the call as the ambulance pulled into the emergency bay.
Everything moved quickly after that—the controlled chaos of the ER enveloping us as Jenny was wheeled inside. True to my word, I never let go of her hand, despite nurses urging me to wait outside, despite doctors’ questioning looks. I was immovable, a sentinel at her bedside as they cut away her filthy clothes, cleaned wounds, inserted more IVs, drew blood for tests.
Jenny stirred only once during the examination, when a doctor pressed gently on her abdomen. Her eyes flew open in panic and she tried to pull away, whimpering in fear. I leaned over, making sure she could see my face.
“It’s okay, kiddo. I’m right here. No one’s going to hurt you.”
She settled at the sound of my voice, eyes focusing on mine with desperate intensity. “Don’t go,” she whispered, the words muffled by the oxygen mask.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised again, my thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of her hand.
A nurse approached with a sympathetic smile. “They’re prepping a room for her upstairs. Pediatric ICU, same floor as her brothers. Her parents have been notified that she’s here.”
I nodded gratefully. “How bad is it?”
“Dehydration, exhaustion, fever from an infected wound on her foot,” the nurse replied, checking Jenny’s IV. “Some defensive wounds on her arms, bruising consistent with restraints. Nothing life-threatening, but she’s been through a lot.”
An understatement if I’d ever heard one. I looked down at Jenny’s face, peaceful now as medications eased her pain and pulled her toward sleep.
“What about…” I paused, unable to verbalize my question. Fear and disgust rolled over me as I tried to get the words out. “Was she?”
The nurse placed a calming hand on my arm. “No, there are no signs of—” She dipped her head sideways with a slight smile.
“She saved herself,” I said, quietly, more to myself than the nurse. “Found her way home on her own.”
The nurse checked something on a monitor. “Sometimes that’s what it takes,” she said, her voice gentle. “Sometimes we have to save ourselves before others can help us.”
Despite the dirt and bruises, I could see the strength in her. The same fierce determination that had drawn me to her when she first started classes at the gym. Too stubborn to quit, too brave to break, even when faced with monsters.
The words struck a chord, reminding me of Bella’s journey from victim to survivor. Somehow, these two remarkable fighters had found their way into my life, teaching me about resilience in ways I’d never imagined.
As they prepared to move Jenny upstairs, I heard familiar voices in the hallway. Drake’s measured tones, Bella’s higher pitch tight with worry. I glanced toward the door just as they appeared, Scarlett still in the business suit she’d worn to work, a butterfly bandage at her throat the only visible sign of her morning’s ordeal.
Her eyes locked on Jenny’s small form, and I watched emotions chase across her face—shock, grief, fury, and finally a fierce protectiveness that mirrored what I felt. She crossed to the bed in three quick strides, her hand reaching out to gently touch Jenny’s matted hair.
“Oh, Jenny,” she whispered, voice breaking. “What did they do to you?”
Jenny stirred at the sound, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she seemed confused, her gaze darting around the room before settling on Bella. Recognition dawned slowly, then a smile transformed her bruised face.
“Bella,” she breathed, using Scarlett’s gym nickname. “You’re here.”
“Of course I am,” Bella replied, tears spilling down her cheeks as she bent to kiss Jenny’s forehead. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry we didn’t find you sooner.”
“I found you,” Jenny murmured, already drifting back toward sleep. “Left breadcrumbs…”
Bella looked to me questioningly, but I could only shake my head. There would be time for explanations later, once Jenny was settled, once we were sure she was truly out of danger.
Drake stood at the foot of the bed, his expression containing that cold calculation I knew so well. He was already putting together pieces, analyzing Jenny’s condition, processing the new information from her escape. His eyes met mine over Jenny’s sleeping form, and a silent understanding passed between us—whoever had done this would pay. One way or another.
The orderlies arrived to transport Jenny upstairs, and we moved with them like a protective detail, Bella on one side, me on the other, Drake following close behind. My hand never left Jenny’s—a promise kept.
As we rode the elevator to the pediatric floor, Scarlett spoke quietly. “Her parents?”
“On their way,” I replied. “Sensei called them.”
She nodded, wiping away the last of her tears with a determined gesture. “We need to talk—about what happened at the office, about what Jenny’s told you. But not here.”
“Graham?” Drake asked.
“Still with the police,” she answered. “He’ll join us as soon as he can.”
The elevator doors opened onto a floor I’d become too familiar with over the past weeks, visiting Jenny’s brothers as they recovered from their own injuries. Nurses recognized me, offering small smiles of greeting that turned to expressions of shock as they realized who we were wheeling in.
“Is that—?” one began.
“Jenny Thompson,” Drake confirmed. “She found her way to the gym this morning.”
As they transferred Jenny to a hospital bed in a private room with a view of the city skyline, a commotion erupted in the hallway. I turned to see Jenny’s parents rushing toward us, their faces a storm of emotions.
“My baby,” Mrs. Thompson cried, pushing past a startled nurse. “Where is my baby?”
I stepped aside, making room for her to reach her daughter. The reunion that followed—Mrs. Thompson’s tears, her gentle hands afraid to touch but unable to stop themselves, her husband’s choked sobs as he collapsed into a chair beside the bed—was too intimate, too raw for outside eyes.
Bella, Drake, and I retreated to the hallway, giving the family their privacy. None of us spoke for a long moment, each processing the morning’s events in our own way.
Finally, Bella broke the silence. “She really walked into the gym on her own?”
I nodded, still somewhat in disbelief myself. “Just opened the door during children’s class. Said she knew I’d be there.”
Drake’s hand found Bella’s, their fingers intertwining in a gesture so natural it seemed unconscious. “She’s alive,” he said softly. “After all this time, against all odds, she survived.”
Bella leaned against him, the professional facade she maintained at work nowhere in evidence now. “Because she’s a fighter,” she said, pride evident in her voice. “Just like her favorite teacher.” Her hand reached for mine.
The compliment warmed something inside me, though I knew Jenny’s survival had little to do with my teachings and everything to do with her own incredible strength. “She mentioned an FBI agent,” I said, lowering my voice. “Someone undercover with her captors who helped her escape. She called him ‘Silent Guy.’ Said he was killed helping her get away.”
Drake’s expression sharpened. “An undercover agent? Did she say anything else about him?”
“Not much,” I replied. “She was pretty out of it. But she kept mentioning ‘breadcrumbs’—apparently he told her to leave a trail.”
“Smart kid,” Drake murmured. “If she left markers, it could lead authorities right to where she was held.”
A doctor approached, clipboard in hand. “You’re with the Thompson girl?” he asked, his gaze taking in our unlikely trio—Bella in her business attire, Drake’s casual elegance, my gym clothes still damp with sweat from the morning’s training.
“We are,” Scarlett confirmed. “Is she going to be alright?”
The doctor nodded, consulting his notes. “Remarkably, yes. Dehydration, exhaustion, an infected cut on her foot that we’re treating with antibiotics. She has some defensive wounds, bruising, and signs of malnutrition, but nothing life-threatening. Physically, she should recover fully within a week or two.”
“And mentally?” Drake asked, always cutting to the heart of things.
The doctor’s expression grew more reserved. “That’s harder to predict. She’s been through a traumatic experience—the extent of which we don’t yet know. But she’s young, she has a supportive family, and from what I’ve observed, quite a few people who care about her.” He glanced toward the room where Jenny’s parents still hovered at her bedside. “All those factors improve her chances for a full emotional recovery.”
A nurse approached, speaking quietly to the doctor before moving on. He nodded, then turned back to us. “Someone here, says he is a federal agent needing to interview her?”
“We’ll handle it,” Bella said, her corporate authority surfacing. “Jenny’s parents have appointed us as protective advocates for their daughter. No visitors without our approval.”
I had no idea if such a thing existed legally, but Bella delivered the line with such conviction that the doctor merely nodded, making a note on his clipboard.
“I’ll inform security,” he said. “In the meantime, try not to overwhelm her when she wakes. She’ll need plenty of rest.”
As he walked away, I exchanged looks with Drake and Bella. “What was that all about?”
“Did you call anyone yet? I know I didn’t. Something’s fishy.” Bella stood sternly.
“We handle it professionally,” Drake finished, though his eyes held the same cold fury I felt. “We can’t afford to tip our hand, not when we’re so close to unraveling this whole thing.”
Bella touched my arm gently. “Jenny needs you to be her protector now, not her avenger. There will be time for justice later.”
She was right, of course. Jenny’s safety had to come first—everything else, including my burning desire to find these ass holes, had to wait.
A familiar voice called Scarlett’s name, and we turned to see Graham striding down the hallway, still in his corporate attire though his usually immaculate appearance was slightly disheveled. He reached us in a few quick strides, his expression tight with concern.
“Is she—?” he began.
“She’s going to be okay,” Scarlett reassured him, accepting his brief embrace. Even here, they maintained a certain professional distance, though the emotion in Graham’s eyes when he looked at her was unmistakable. “Her parents are with her now.”
Graham nodded, then lowered his voice. “We need to talk. All of us. I just spoke with the detective handling Felicia’s death. Before Aria was taken into surgery for her broken leg, she said something about ‘the boss’ expecting confirmation by tonight. Whatever they’re planning, it’s happening soon.”
Drake checked his phone, a brief frown crossing his features. “Still no word from April. She hasn’t responded to any messages about Jenny.”
Something cold settled in my stomach. “That’s not like her.”
“No,” Graham agreed, his expression grim. “It’s not. And with Reeves now also missing”
He didn’t need to finish the thought. We all knew what it meant—April’s constant worry about Rory’s strange behavior, her growing closeness to Reeves, her absence this morning when she never missed work. The picture it painted was as clear as it was terrifying.
“I’ll stay with Jenny,” I said, my decision already made. “You three get ahold of Christian and the others and find April.”
Bella squeezed my hand, understanding in her eyes. “We’ll find her. And when we do, we’ll end this. All of it.”
As they moved away, already deep in quiet discussion, I turned back toward Jenny’s room. Through the window, I could see her sleeping peacefully, her parents maintaining their vigil at her bedside. I took up position just outside the door, legs planted firmly, arms crossed. My own personal guard duty.
Jenny had fought her way home against impossible odds. Now it was my turn to ensure she stayed safe while the others hunted down the remaining threads of the conspiracy that had nearly destroyed all our lives.
Whoever came looking for her would have to go through me first. And this time, I would be ready.