19. Jon
NINETEEN
Jon
A cold spike shoots through my chest as I tap open the file. Blood pounds in my ears, drowning out the ambient restaurant noise. CJ doesn’t send messages like this unless it matters.
I angle the screen away from Aria, shielding it with my body while the video loads.
Surveillance footage from The Little Matchstick Girl. Timestamp: less than fifteen minutes ago.
A man steps into the frame. No rush. No hesitation. Hoodie up, posture loose, almost casual—like he owns the night. He strolls to the front door, crouches, and presses something against the glass.
My stomach tightens as he straightens, glances directly at the camera, and walks unhurriedly back to a waiting car.
Not an attack. A message.
I’m back. And I know where to find you.
“What is it?” Aria’s voice cuts through my thoughts, sharper than the knife beside the salmon she barely touched.
I lock the screen, already calculating our next moves.
“We need to leave.”
“Is it the shop? Is Ember okay?” Her hand finds my forearm, fingers digging in with surprising strength.
Before I can answer, Marcus returns to the table, tucking his own phone into his suit jacket.
“I apologize for the interruption.” His gaze shifts between us, registering the tension. “Is everything alright?”
“No. Someone just left a package at The Little Matchstick Girl.” I stand, hand automatically checking my concealed weapon. “I need to get Aria somewhere secure while my team investigates.”
“Somewhere secure? My penthouse has security measures that rival the Pentagon.” Marcus’s eyebrow arches with affronted surprise.
“Dad, please.” Aria rises, already gathering her purse. “If Jon thinks we should?—”
“My security team is the best money can buy.” Marcus cuts her off with the same tone he likely uses to silence boardroom dissent. “The penthouse is a fortress. You’re coming home, where I can ensure your safety.”
My phone vibrates with incoming messages. Delta team deploying. Razor and Storm are already on site. Blaze is five minutes out. Mac and Jenny another ten minutes.
“Ember and Ryn are at the shop right now.” I keep my voice steady despite the growing urgency. “My team is moving to secure them and the scene.”
Something shifts in Marcus’s expression—a calculation happening behind cold eyes. “Then by all means, handle the situation at the shop. I’ll take my daughter home where she’ll be safe.”
“I’m staying with Jon.” Aria’s spine straightens.
“Aria—” The muscle in Marcus’s jaw jumps, the only sign that his control isn’t absolute.
“Dad. I’m not going anywhere until I know Ember and Ryn are safe.”
I guide them toward the exit, sending rapid texts while scanning the restaurant. Too many windows. Too many unknown faces.
Marcus’s sleek town car idles at the curb, driver already holding the door open. It’s the safest option. Bulletproof. GPS-tracked. Secure comms already built in.
I hate relying on his resources, but right now, this isn’t about pride. I can retrieve my truck later.
As we slide into the leather interior, I send a detailed alert: Have Aria and Marcus Holbrook.
CJ’s response comes instantly: Storm and Razor on scene. Blaze ETA three minutes. Wolfe signature confirmed. Extraction to HQ planned. Will see you there.
Ice floods my veins. Wolfe’s signature confirmed. Not just Night Pack—Wolfe himself.
I open the secure video feed as Marcus’s driver pulls into traffic. Four camera angles show The Little Matchstick Girl from different perspectives. Storm maintains his position near the main entrance while security protocols are activated around the perimeter.
Inside, Ember moves between candle displays, unaware of the danger. Ryn arranges a crystal-embedded collection near the register.
“What’s happening?” Aria leans closer, breath warm against my neck as she tries to see my screen.
I tilt the phone so she can watch. “Storm and Razor are securing the area. Blaze is almost there for extraction. Jenny and Mac are inbound as well.”
“Extraction?” Marcus leans forward, eyes narrowing. “You make it sound like a military operation.”
“It is.” My attention stays on the feed as Blaze’s vehicle appears at the edge of one camera’s range. “Night Pack doesn’t leave warning notes unless they’re planning something bigger.”
On screen, Storm enters the shop. Ember’s face transforms—confusion melting into the hard focus I recognize from our previous encounters with danger. She immediately moves to Ryn, placing herself slightly ahead of the younger woman—protective instinct kicking in.
Blaze enters the frame, shoulders set, expression severe.
His tall frame and confident movements make him unmistakable even on the low-res feed.
Ember rushes to him, abandoning caution as he folds her into his protective embrace.
The St. Michael medallion—his sister’s gift—glints briefly as he presses his lips to her forehead, whispering something that makes her nod.
Ryn stands a few feet away, arms wrapped around herself, looking suddenly small and alone without Ember’s sheltering presence.
Then Razor enters from the back, his stride quick but controlled as he reaches her side.
He doesn’t touch her—respecting boundaries—but positions himself as a shield, head bent toward her as he speaks.
Her shoulders lower slightly as he stays close, providing the security she needs without demanding contact she might not want.
“What was in that package?” Aria’s voice has gone hollow.
I switch camera views to where Mac establishes a small perimeter around a plain brown package leaning against the door.
He lifts it in gloved hands, his movements methodical—the instinct of someone who’s handled explosive ordnance for decades.
His gruff demeanor doesn’t waver as he examines all sides before carrying it to a portable containment unit.
A quick glimpse of the box reveals what triggered CJ’s alert—a stylized wolf’s head stamped in black ink on one corner. Wolfe’s signature. His calling card, just like before.
“Guardian HRS protocols include secure transport and technical analysis of potential threats.” I keep my voice clinical, detached. “The package will be examined in a controlled environment.”
“Guardian HRS has grown more efficient since I last employed them.” Marcus watches the operation unfold, his assessment as much for his own benefit as mine.
The backhanded observation barely registers as Blaze escorts Ember toward an armored SUV. Razor does the same with Ryn. The shop’s lights go dark as Storm activates security protocols, sealing the building.
“They’re safe.” Aria’s shoulders drop a fraction. “Where are they taking them?”
“Guardian HQ.” I meet Marcus’s gaze directly. “Which is where we’re heading too.”
“Absolutely not. I have no intention of placing my daughter in your facility when my own security is perfectly adequate.” His fingers curl into a fist on his knee.
“Dad, please. If Ember and Ryn are going there, that’s where I need to be.” Aria’s hand finds mine in the darkness of the car.
“This isn’t open for discussion.” Marcus’s tone cuts like a blade. “Mr. Knutt, I appreciate your organization’s assistance with the shop, but my daughter will be under my protection.”
The feed on my phone shows Blaze’s vehicle pulling away, Ember visible in the back seat. Another SUV follows with Razor and Ryn.
“Mr. Holbrook.” I keep my voice level despite the tension knotting between my shoulder blades. “Night Pack specializes in penetrating high-security locations. They’ve compromised government facilities, corporate headquarters, and private residences.”
“Not mine.” The certainty in his voice borders on arrogance.
“They’ve been watching your daughter for weeks.” I turn my phone so he can see the newest image CJ has sent through—three photos found in the package. Aria behind the counter. Ember making candles in what should have been a secure back room. Ryn walking to her apartment, marked with a red X.
Marcus’s expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes—the first genuine fear I’ve seen from him. Not surprising. After what Night Pack did the last time, after what his half-brother nearly accomplished…
“Guardian HQ was designed specifically to counter organizations like Night Pack.” I press the advantage. “The facility changes access protocols every twelve hours and maintains active counter-surveillance measures at all times.”
“I want my daughter with me.” He’s not standing down.
“Dad, please. I need to be with Ember and Ryn.”
“These people are not your responsibility.” Marcus’s voice softens when he addresses his daughter, a manipulation so subtle she probably doesn’t even recognize it.
“They’re my friends.” She sits straighter, chin lifting. “And my business partners. I won’t hide in your penthouse while they’re in danger because of me.”
“Because of you?” Marcus’s eyes narrow. “What makes you think this has anything to do with you?”
The question hangs between us, loaded with implications.
My phone vibrates with another message from CJ: Penthouse security protocols received. Analysis indicates significant vulnerabilities. Recommends immediate transport to HQ.
I study Marcus’s face in the dim car interior, noting the slight tightening around his eyes, the calculated mask of paternal concern that doesn’t quite reach those cold depths.
“You know why Wolfe is targeting Aria.” The words come out harder than intended.
“You’re treading on personal ground, Mr. Knutt.” Marcus’s face goes rigid, eyes narrowing dangerously at me.
“This turned personal when he kidnapped your daughter.” I hold his gaze without flinching. “When he built an entire criminal organization to get revenge on you.”
“What are you talking about?” Aria looks between us, confusion clear on her face.
“You didn’t know.” It’s not a question. I mentally curse myself for blurting it out. “I’m so sorry. I thought you knew.” The realization that she doesn’t know strikes hard. Marcus’s eyes flash a warning, but it’s too late to retreat.
“Damien Wolfe is your father’s half-brother.” The words land in the car like stones dropped into still water. “That’s why he targeted you. Why he kidnapped you. It wasn’t random.”
“What?” Aria’s gasp cuts through the tension. Her hand pulls away from mine as she stares between us. “Dad? Is this… Wolfe is your brother?” The shock in her voice makes me turn. The color has drained from her face, eyes wide with disbelief and betrayal.
Marcus’s eyes close briefly, a rare moment of visible weakness. When he opens them, something shifts behind that calculated mask—resignation, perhaps. Or simply the recognition that this secret can no longer be contained.
“Half-brother.” He nearly spits the word. “We share a father. Nothing else.”
“How could you keep this from me?” Aria’s question comes out raw, wounded.
“I assumed Ember would have told you.” I reach for her hand again, but she pulls away. “She was there when Wolfe admitted it. If she was truly your friend, she would have.”
“Well, she didn’t, and it wasn’t her place or responsibility. You should’ve said something.” Aria’s jaw clenches as she turns to her father. “Everyone knew except me? Your own daughter?”
Marcus’s expression hardens. “It wasn’t relevant to your recovery.”
“Wasn’t relevant?” Her laugh holds no humor. “The man who kidnapped me did it to hurt you specifically, and that wasn’t relevant?”
“You got the empire, the power, and the name.” I echo Wolfe’s words from the files we compiled after the last encounter. “And he got scraps and shadows.”
Marcus’s jaw tightens. “You seem well-informed.”
“He told us during the last rescue operation.” My fingers squeeze Aria’s hand reassuringly. “Called her ‘the perfect tool to dismantle everything my dear brother holds dear.’”
The car slows at a red light, city shadows playing across Marcus’s face. For a moment, he looks decades older, wearied by old sins and long-buried history.
“Guardian HQ.” He finally concedes, voice tight with controlled anger.
I nod once, sending confirmation to CJ. The light changes, and the driver adjusts course based on coordinates now appearing on his navigation system.
Aria’s fingers remain intertwined with mine, her grip betraying the fear she’s working so hard to contain.
“It’ll be okay.” The reassurance feels hollow even as I say it.
“Will it?” Her voice barely rises above a whisper. “He’s back, Jon. After everything… He’s back.”
I have no answer that isn’t a lie, so I simply tighten my grip on her hand.
Marcus watches this exchange, reassessing the nature of my relationship with his daughter. Whatever he sees displeases him, but he remains silent, his attention turning to the phone now vibrating in his hand.
As the car carries us toward Guardian HQ, I can’t shake the feeling we’re missing something crucial.
Marcus knows more than he’s saying. This blood feud between half-brothers runs deeper than we’ve uncovered.
Wolfe is targeting not just Aria but Ember and Ryn as well.
Somewhere beneath it all runs a current of old hatred that makes this more than just business.
My free hand checks my weapon again, a grounding ritual learned through years of combat. Whatever’s coming, whatever Wolfe has planned, one thing is certain—he won’t get to Aria.
Not while I’m breathing.