Page 13 of Her Faithful Protector

“Ava, talk to me.” I tap her cheek. “It’s me. Jack.”

“Jack…”

That soft voice.

The last time I heard it, she was saying goodbye. Now, she’s calling out to me because she needs me. It’s different but equally painful.

“Take a breath. Just breathe,” I try to calm her down as I scoop her up and rush into the Red Mark building. Once I’m in the lobby, I immediately call out for Sam.

Ava chokes as she sobs silently. As if trying to swallow a clog in her throat, she struggles out, “They took my baby.”

“Where did this happen?”

“I went to the hospital. Then they took him.” She gasps for air, her breathing labored.

Perhaps her struggle to get here has taken its toll, but her breathing becomes even more strained. And then she faints.

Sam finally arrives. “Jesus, Jack! What the hell?”

I lay Ava on the floor, ready to give her mouth-to-mouth to help her breathe, but my brother has a better idea. He returns with an oxygen tank. I know there’s a training facility here, and Red Mark personnel are often pushed to their limits, so it’s no surprise that the office is equipped with medical apparatus.

“Sweetheart…relax,” I reassure her, placing the mask over her nose and mouth. “Breathe slowly.”

“Call Dr. Tripp!” Sam instructs one of the staff.

“Your doctor?” I question.

“We have our own medical team now.”

The oxygen seems to provide some relief for Ava. Once herbreathing stabilizes, Sam suggests, “Come with me. We have a bed upstairs. She’ll be more comfortable there.”

The dog follows us faithfully as we take an elevator up.

“Jack…” Ava murmurs as I cradle her in my arms.

“I’m here.”

She rests her head against my chest, her curls brushing my chin. Her body smells of baby powder, evoking an unexpected surge of emotion—something that has never entered my reality. It’s as if I’m enveloped in a realm of abstract tenderness, purity, and innocence.

Ava nuzzles into my shirt.

Disbelief washes over me, erasing my doubts about her presence in my life. Even though more than a year has passed, she’s still part of me, and her responses affirm our unbreakable connection. We are picking up where we left off in Bozeman despite the punishing circumstances.

I hold her tight, feeling the weight of her body against mine. As she hooks one arm over my neck, her need for closeness moves me deeply. How does one console a mother who has lost her baby? There’s no comparison, but the closest I can come is to imagine the pain of losing her now. With this empathy, I hope to offer her a sliver of comfort.

“Quinton,” she huffs. “He had a fever.”

“We’ll find him,” I assure her. “I promise, we will. For now, you must get better first.”

Sam whispers to me, “Her baby?”

“Someone took her son, Sam! He’s only seven months old!” My fury wells up at the thought. I’ve accepted that evil is part of life, but I wish it would stay the hell away from children and stop making mothers cry.

“No way, he’s far too young to be separated from his mother!” Sam’s voice remains low, but anger is written all over it.

I, too, am fighting the eruption of my rage. Quinton maynot be my son, and I may not have met him or know who his father is, but he has become a part of me, just like his mother. Whoever is responsible, whatever the reason may be, if it affects Ava and her child, I’ll take it upon myself to fight the battle.

As I lay Ava on the bed, she whispers my name. Her lips gradually turn rosier, but her breathing becomes labored once again. Sam hands me the oxygen, and I quickly place the mask back on her face.

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