Chapter 35
Tori pressed her back against the molded plastic chair in the ER waiting room, trying to ignore the kid three seats down who’d been sniffling for the past hour. Each wet, congested breath made her skin crawl with imaginary germs.
Half an hour ago, some guy had stumbled through those doors clutching a baggie packed with ice and his own severed hand. Gator bait, the nurses whispered. He’d dangled raw chicken too close to those prehistoric jaws.
The coffee in her hands had gone cold an hour ago, but she kept holding the cup anyway.
It gave her something to do with her fingers.
The liquid looked like motor oil and tasted worse.
Bitter enough to strip paint. Her stomach cramped with hunger, but the thought of the vending machine sandwiches made her nauseous.
Blade was beside her, arm tucked in a sling. He sat close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body through the thin hospital air. Not touching. They hadn’t touched since Blade had been properly stitched up over an hour ago.
The trauma team had cleared her for shock an hour back.
She’d given her statement to Marsha Bondi right there in the bay, hooked to a saline line, the bullet graze freshly packed.
Two shots fired. Both clean. Self-defense and defense of others.
Marsha had taken it down in that flat, careful voice she used when she already knew the case would hold, and then she’d left Tori with the fluorescent hum and the smell of iodine.
Stryker was stable. Still unconscious, but the doctors said that was normal. Expected. His body needed time to heal from whatever Barclay had done to him during those missing hours.
The adrenaline had burned off somewhere around midnight, leaving behind an ache that went deeper than muscle and bone. Everything hurt. Her forearm where the stalker’s knife had found its mark. The bullet graze. Shoot, even her eyelashes hurt.
She needed to move, needed air that didn’t taste like other people’s germs and bad decisions.
“I’m going outside,” she said, standing.
Blade was already rising. “Mind if I come?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
The automatic doors whispered open, and Florida humidity hit her like a wet blanket. Thick, muggy, soup-like atmosphere that clung to her skin and made her lungs work harder. But it was better than the recycled sterility inside.
The rumble of a motorcycle engine cut through the night. Harlee’s Kawasaki swept into the parking lot, headlight carving a bright arc across empty asphalt. She killed the engine, slid off, and jogged toward them, helmet tucked under one arm.
“How is he?” No preamble. Straight to the point.
“Stable,” Blade said. “CT came back clean. No new swelling. He’s unconscious, but—”
“I need to see him.”
“You can’t. Not yet,” Tori said. “ICU restrictions. We have to wait until they call us.”
Harlee’s face softened. “Right. Sorry. I just—” She shook her head, regrouping. “I have news. Had to deliver it in person.”
Tori’s stomach dropped. More bad news. Had to be. Nothing good ever required in-person delivery at two in the morning.
“Edwards called. He tried to reach you but—”
“I turned my phone off,” Blade said, reaching into his pocket to find it. The screen flashed white as it powered up, and he slid it into his sling.
“Mine’s dead,” Tori said.
“Anyway, when Edwards ran Hoult through the FDLE DNA investigative database, he popped. The file said Hoult had a forensic evaluation for a competency hearing performed by one Dr. Crew.”
Tori shook her head slowly. “I don’t remember that.”
“It was a while ago, and you’ve seen how many patients?”
“Countless,” Tori said.
“Edwards ran a rapid DNA and got the preliminary results.” Harlee paused.
The world tilted sideways. Tori braced herself against the brick wall. Did she want a brother like Hoult? A damaged, violent man who’d stalked her and tried to kill Blade? Maybe not, but she wanted answers.
“Is Jeremy Hoult my brother?”
Harlee’s lips flattened. “There’s zero percent probability that Jeremy Hoult is your biological brother.”
The hope Tori hadn’t even realized she’d been clinging to evaporated.
Gone. Truly gone.
She looked at Blade. He didn’t say I told you so. Didn’t offer empty platitudes about it being better this way. He just watched her with those blue eyes full of shared sorrow, understanding exactly what this lie had cost her.
When he lifted his good arm, she ducked under it and let him hold her despite his injuries. Let herself lean against his chest while the Florida night pressed close around them.
She felt Blade’s phone buzzing in his sling, and he released her to fish it out. Garrison’s name lit up the screen.
“Take it,” she said, wiping a tear with her index finger. “Put it on speaker.”
Blade swiped to answer. “Garrison.”
“I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour. I’ve got updates. Big ones.” Garrison’s voice carried the exhaustion of someone who’d been working nonstop. “Where are you?”
“Hospital. Tori and Harlee are with me. You’re on speaker.”
“Good. You all need to hear this.” Papers rustled in the background. “First, Hoult confessed everything. And I mean everything.”
Tori straightened, pulling away from Blade’s chest. “What did he say?”
“Barclay’s people approached him in prison. He had been obsessed with you ever since that competency hearing years ago. Barclay manipulated him. Fed him every detail from the fake file.”
“So he never thought he was my brother?” The words tasted bitter.
“I’m sorry, no. He was playing a role. Barclay needed a distraction to keep you from listening to Damien, so he activated his patsy,” Garrison said.
“Hoult admitted to the stalking and the attacks on you and Blade. He said Barclay promised him protection, maybe even a way to be reunited with you for good if he played his part.”
Blade’s jaw tightened. “Reunited how?”
“We’re not going there. The important thing is Hoult’s talking. He’s giving us names, dates, everything we need to dig deeper into this conspiracy.”
“What about Barclay?”
“Singing like a canary, trying to cut a deal. But we have Damien’s blackmail book, so we may not need to make one.
” The satisfaction in Garrison’s voice was unmistakable.
“Barclay says he can lay out the entire command structure of the Nexus Initiative, which is what he calls his organ trafficking ring.”
“What about the other victims?” Blade asked. “Kaufman. Kagay. We never closed the loop on how they connected.”
“Looks like Scott Kaufman was on the payroll of a shell company that is connected to the Chiron BioInnovation Center. It’s buried deep, but it’s there. He knew enough about the technology and the money to be dangerous, and eventually Wells decided he was more dangerous alive than dead.”
Blade asked, “Judge Kagay and the records clerk?”
“That’s a little simpler. Small county, one criminal court judge. For thirty years, every case that touched Barclay’s operation went through Kagay’s desk, and every single one went his way.”
Tori thought about Sasha Robie, the murdered records clerk, and how easily that could have become Kiara.
“I can’t believe it,” Tori said. “Wells and Barclay destroyed anyone in their paths.”
“Yes, and the investigation isn’t over either.
Barclay mentioned a medical examiner and at least one other officer,” Garrison said.
“I’m sure more names will rise to the surface.
We also have names of the shell companies used to launder money.
We’re executing federal warrants in six states as I speak. ”
“Six states? How big was this thing?”
“Bigger than we thought. We found encrypted communications on Sebastian Wells’s laptop proving he used a federal backchannel to contract the hit on Dr. Forest while in custody.
He even scrubbed his own DNA profile, though I haven’t heard how he pulled it off.
We’re still sorting through the data, but it’s over. The ring is finished.”
The tightness in Tori’s chest loosened, but her focus shot to the next danger waiting in line. “What about Kiara Kerns?”
Blade looked at her with something that might have been gratitude.
“The frame Barclay threatened? That one’s going to take some time,” Garrison said. “She’s in the clear, but the digital forensics are complex. We’re trying to locate whoever hacked into the records department and who programmed the dead-man’s switch.”
Harlee nudged Blade and pointed to herself.
“I know tech experts who can help,” Blade said. “ATF Agent Harlee Bay here with me, and you might know Jett Nu.”
“Nu? The one who creates the intelligence software?” Interest sparked in Garrison’s voice. “Are they available?”
Harlee gave a thumbs-up.
“They’ll be happy to make themselves available,” Blade said.
“Perfect. We’ll make sure Kiara gets cleared. I’ll coordinate with your people tomorrow—today, actually.”
This wouldn’t make up for everything Kiara was going through. The accusations, the betrayal she felt, the career uncertainty. But it was a start.
“What happens now?” Tori asked. “With the investigation?”
“We keep digging. There are still loose ends. Other victims, financial trails, accomplices we haven’t identified. But the core conspiracy is broken. Barclay and Wells were the architects.”
“And my brother? My real brother?”
“That’s still an open question. We know Nikos Jr. existed. We know he was taken that night. Finding him . . .” Garrison paused. “That’s going to be a different kind of investigation. One that might take time while we jump through the legal hoops.”
Tori nodded, even though Garrison couldn’t see her. Time. She’d waited her whole life already. She could wait a little longer.
“Get some rest,” Garrison continued. “All of you. We’ll reconvene in the morning with fresh eyes and clear heads.”
The call ended, leaving them standing outside the hospital. Harlee had her phone out, probably texting Jett about the digital forensics.
“You didn’t have to ask about Kiara,” Blade said quietly.
“Yes, I did.” Tori looked up at him. “She didn’t deserve what happened to her. None of us did, but her especially.”
The automatic doors whispered open behind them. A nurse emerged, her scrubs wrinkled after a long shift.
“Family of Stryker King?” she called.
They turned as one. Family. Not by blood, maybe, but by choice. By shared trauma and stubborn loyalty and the kind of love that survived bullets and betrayal.
“He’s awake,” the nurse said.
“Wait.” Harlee’s voice cut through the humid air before they could reach the automatic doors. “I didn’t get to finish before Garrison called.”
Tori stopped midstride and swung toward Harlee. The woman’s gaze snapped from her face to Blade’s and back again.
“I did something without asking.” Harlee’s fingers twisted around her helmet strap. “After we got your DNA sample, I ran it against genealogical databases. All of them. Looking for any biological matches.”
The blood drained from Tori’s face. “You should have asked.”
“I know. I’m sorry. But I took a shot, and it paid off.”
Tori’s heart stopped for a beat. Then slammed against her ribs so hard she could hear it in her ears. The parking lot tilted sideways. She gripped Blade’s arm to keep from falling.
“What did you find?”
Harlee’s voice went soft. “I found a full biological sibling.”
Real. Not Jeremy Hoult’s manufactured delusion. Not another lie from Barclay’s playbook. A real family somewhere out there, carrying the same DNA that had survived that horrible night.
“Where?” The word scraped out, and she wasn’t even sure it was the right one.
Harlee pulled an envelope from her jacket and held it out.
Tori took the envelope and stared at the thing like it might explode. Everything she’d wanted to know sat right there in her hands.
Blade’s smile reached his eyes for the first time in days.
“Don’t you want to open it?” Harlee’s brow pinched.
Tori tucked the envelope against her chest. “Later.”
“But—”
“My real family is inside that hospital, waiting for me.” Tori looked at Blade, then tapped the envelope. “This . . . this can wait.”