Chapter 34 Stephanie
STEPHANIE
The first thing I feel is cold. Not the kind that nips at your skin but the kind that sinks in, heavy and damp, and makes you want to curl in on yourself.
My body feels sluggish, like my limbs have been weighed down, and my head is thick with the ghost of a chemical haze.
“Mom! Mom, wake up!”
Jackson’s voice cuts through the fog like a blade. I force my eyes open, my vision swimming before his tear-streaked face comes into focus.
His small hands are gripping my shoulders, shaking me with a desperate strength only fear can give.
The moment my brain catches up, I sit up fast, pulling him into my arms.
He’s trembling so hard I can feel it in my bones, and it tugs at my heartstrings.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m here.” My voice comes out softer than I expect, but steady, because I have to be strong for him right now. “You’re okay, Jay. I’ve got you.”
But the truth is, I’m not okay. My heart is pounding, my skin prickling with the realization that I have no idea where we are—or what’s going to happen to us.
The room is dim, almost pitch black, the only light a thin sliver from under a door somewhere to my right.
The air smells faintly of mildew and old wood, and the floor beneath us is hard, cold concrete.
If I had to guess, we’re in some kind of basement.
My shoulder aches from lying on it, and my wrists… I flex my hands.
No rope. No zip ties.
That’s something.
Jackson’s breathing is ragged against my neck, and it slowly grows a bit more steady as I rub his back with slow, soothing strokes.
I wonder how long I was out—how long Jackson has been scared and alone in this room because I was unconscious and couldn’t protect him.
And then, quickly on the coattails of that thought, I wonder if the monsters who took us drugged him too.
“Do you remember what happened?” I ask him quietly, brushing his hair back from his damp forehead as I lean back just enough to look at his face.
He nods, his eyes wide and glassy. “I was asleep in my room,” he says in just above a whisper, like he’s frightened that if he speaks too loudly, something bad will happen.
“And then I heard this noise in the hallway. I thought it might be you, so I tried to fall back asleep. But then my door opened, and these ninjas came in…” His voice catches, and his lip trembles.
“Ninjas?” I ask. “What makes you think they were ninjas?”
“They were dressed in all black and carried little swords,” he says, sniffling, then he draws his wrist across his face to wipe his runny nose.
My sweet boy. I can only imagine what it must be like for him to process what’s happened tonight.
Of course ninjas would be the closest thing he could come up with to identify our kidnappers. He’s seen ninjas on TV.
And if these men were dressed in black and armed with knives, he could easily mistake the blades for tiny swords as he tried to make sense of things.
“What else, bud?” I encourage. “What else do you remember?”
“They told me I needed to come with them, but I said I wasn’t supposed to go with strangers.
And then… then…” He swallows hard, his eyes growing round with fear, and he starts to tremble again.
“They c–carried you out of your room. I called out to you, but you were still asleep.” He starts to sniffle harder again, his eyes welling with fresh tears.
“I a–asked where they w–were taking you, and a man t–told me I had to c–come with you if I ever w–wanted to see you again!”
I can hear the monumental effort it takes for him to get it out before he breaks down, and then fresh sobs rack his tiny body as he throws his arms around my neck and buries his face against my throat.
“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.” I hold him tight, my heart breaking. He must have been terrified. And I wasn’t awake to make him feel safe. Pulling him into my lap on the cold, hard ground, I rock him gently. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” I ask when his tears start to calm again.
Jackson shakes his head, but I can tell from the small tears along the seam of his shirt that they weren’t entirely gentle, either.
“And they didn’t make you breathe anything?” I ask, a lump in my throat. I don’t want him to know how scared I am, but the thought of him unconscious like I was…
“No,” he says quickly. “When we got outside, I tried to call for help. But they just… grabbed me and pushed me in the car. I yelled and tried to bite the one who grabbed me, but they didn’t care.”
Pride and fear twist together in my chest. My boy.
I cradle him against me, closing my eyes for a moment as relief trickles in.
He’s here with me.
He’s alive.
He’s alert—but that reassurance is paper-thin against the dread pressing down on me.
And then, like a spotlight snapping on in my mind, I know.
The flower shop—that man, Tanaka.
Something about him unsettled me from the start, but there’s no doubt in my mind that the exchange between him and Gio was little more than a thinly veiled threat.
He saw the way Gio reached for me… and called it a wonderful new development.
I thought if I pushed Gio away, I could keep Jackson safe, but it was too little, too late.
And now Gio probably doesn’t even know we’re missing.
The door handle rattles, and my heart freezes inside my chest. Jackson stiffens, clutching at the loose cami of my pajama top.
Collecting him against me, I slowly rise to my feet and steer my son gently behind me, positioning myself between him and the door as it creaks open.
A tall, slender man steps in, and even in the dim light, I recognize him instantly.
The sharp cheekbones, the slicked-back black hair, the slow, deliberate way his eyes travel over me.
My skin crawls.
“Stephanie,” he says, his voice smooth and unhurried, like we’re old acquaintances meeting by chance. “How wonderful to see you again.”
I plant my feet, my voice low but firm. “You need to let my son go.”
His mouth curves into something that isn’t quite a smile. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
He steps farther into the room, his presence filling the cold, dark space.
Jackson presses closer against me, his hands clinging to the fabric of my shirt, but I can feel the slight shift in his weight as he peeks out from around me.
“Hello,” the man says, his eyes darting down to Jackson as his sinister smile widens.
“What do you want from us, Mr. Tanaka?” I demand, doing anything I can think of to remove his attention from my son.
“Oh, please, call me Kenji,” he insists. “I have a feeling we’re going to get to know each other very well.”
His eyes dart down to take in my thin cami and sleep shorts, his eyes lingering on the points of my nipples that press against the fabric in the cold.
I’m not wearing a bra, and suddenly, I feel far too exposed.
“If you even think about coming closer, I promise you’ll regret it,” I warn, my hands finding Jackson’s arm behind me so I can shield him more thoroughly.
Kenji hums as if my threat amuses him, but he doesn’t step closer. Instead, he leans casually against the door jamb, looking perfectly at ease with my discomfort. “You know, I took something of an interest in you after our little encounter in your shop the other day.”
“If this is your way of asking me out, I think I’ll have to pass,” I snap before I can stop myself.
His eyes narrow for a fraction of a second—as if assessing whether I’m serious or taking a crack at him—before they smooth over again.
“You misunderstand,” he explains, as if I’ve offended him for thinking such a thing.
His gaze flicks back to Jackson, then me again.
“You see, I know a man who would do anything to keep you and your son safe. And I saw how he reacted to you in your shop the other day. He practically threw himself at you to come to your aid. And that kind of devotion…” He tsks as he pushes off the doorframe and spreads his hands like it’s a fact of nature. “It is very useful to me.”
The blood in my veins feels like ice.
He’s talking about Gio, confirming my worst fears—because if he thinks he can use us as bait, he’s sorely mistaken.
And it might cost me and Jackson our lives when he figures that out.
“You don’t believe Gio will come for you, do you?” he observes, malicious amusement playing across what otherwise might be mistaken for a handsome face.
Kenji steps closer, and my instinct screams at me to shove him back, to keep him away from my son.
But Jackson moves first, stepping out from behind me as he plants himself at my side. His chin is up, his voice steady in a way that startles me. “If Gio knows where we are,” he says, “then you’d better let us go if you want to survive.”
My breath catches. My seven-year-old just threatened a man I’m confident has killed people before.
Kenji laughs—the sound genuine, almost delighted. “Ah, he has spirit. I like that.”
I put a hand on Jackson’s shoulder, easing him back behind me. “You won’t touch him.”
Kenji tilts his head, looking at me like he’s trying to decide whether I’m brave or stupid. “That depends on Gio. Doesn’t it? If he comes for you… perhaps no harm will come to the boy. If he does not…” He trails off, letting the silence finish for him.
Before I can respond, hurried footsteps pound down the stairs outside the door, and another man slips inside the room a moment later.
He’s shorter, stockier, and he leans in to murmur something in Japanese.
Kenji’s expression shifts instantly.
His spine straightens, his voice sharp as he snaps something back in the same language.
Then he turns to me, his eyes cool again.
“It seems I am needed elsewhere.” He steps toward the door, pausing only to give me one last look.
“Try not to do anything stupid before I return, Stephanie. I might be a generous host now, but do anything to cross me, and you’ll find out how unpleasant your stay can get. ”
Then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
The second the lock turns, I crouch down in front of Jackson. His eyes are still blazing from what he said, but I can see the fear beneath it.
“You can’t talk to him like that,” I whisper, brushing his cheek. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“Yes, I do,” he says fiercely. “But I also know Gio’s going to find us. And if that guy’s so worried about it that the only way he can trick Gio is to use us as bait, then he should be scared of what’s coming.”
I stare at Jackson, my heart twisting in a hundred different directions.
My brave, stubborn, beautiful boy.
I just hope to God he’s right.