Page 1 of Jenna's Protector

ONE

Carter

I flipthrough the case files of three girls who have disappeared, frustration gnawing at me. No leads, no witnesses, no resources. Just broken homes, pretty faces, and troubled pasts—girls nobody would miss.

A runaway, a druggie, and a thief.

The system failed them, and now they’re gone.

Sitting at my dingy, rusted government-issue desk, I rub my temples, trying to ease the headache that’s been building all morning. The budget constraints are suffocating, making it nearly impossible to gather the resources I need for this case.

Correction. There’s nonearly impossibleabout any of this. It’s simply,exhaustingly impossible.

Leaning back, I pinch the bridge of my nose and blow out a frustrated breath. All I have are empty leads and fruitless dead ends.

The office around me is a testament to the lack of funding—cracked linoleum floors, flickering fluorescent lights, and walls stained with years of neglect. The musty smell of old papers and dust fills the air, mixing with the faint scent of stale coffee from the pot that’s been sitting for hours.

Max, my loyal German Shepherd, sits by my side. His expressive eyes watch me intently. I reach down and scratch behind his ears.

“At least I’ve got you, buddy.”

He wags his tail in response, a small comfort amongst the chaos.

I grab my phone, needing to talk to someone who can help me make sense of this. I dial my brother, who works for an organization with extensive resources—resources I don’t have but would kill to utilize in this case.

Sadly, that is not the way of things.

“Hey, troublemaker, what’s the crisis this time?” My twin brother picks up, his voice dripping with its usual sarcasm.

Max’s ears perk up at the sound of Blake’s voice. An eager whine escapes his dark muzzle, followed by a quick thumping of his tail—Max loves Blake and hasn’t seen him in a while.

“Another one’s gone missing. Fifteen years old. No leads. I’m hitting a wall here.”

“Man, that sucks. Look, I don’t know if this will help or not, but I was talking to the team the other night, telling them about your disappearances, and I might have something for you.” Blake’s voice is steady, but concern weaves through each word.

“Might?” I sit up straight, suddenly alert and eager for any scrap that might give me a direction on where to go next. “Shit, that’s a whole lot more than I have right now.”

“You need to talk to Forest.”

“Forest?” I frown. “Forest, who?”

“Dude, I’ve told you about Forest. The creator of Guardian Hostage Rescue Specialists?” When I don’t respond, Blake continues. “The dude is otherworld smart. Operates on a whole other plane of existence than us mere mortals.”

I won’t say it to Blake, but that’s a bit over the top, even for me.

“Hero worship much?” I don’t do that kind of shit.

“Whatever, dude,” Blake continues, non-plussed. “He overheard my conversation with the guys and said he might have some information that could help.”

“Shit, I’ll take whatever he has.” I sigh, feeling the weight of my frustration. It’s not the solid lead I need, but it’s better than the shit-for-nothing I’ve compiled on the girls’ disappearances. “Give me his contact info, and I’ll call him. Thanks.”

“I’m not saying it’ll help, but Forest doesn’t poke his nose into something without a reason.”

“Would be wonderful if this was a case you guys were working instead of me. Got hit with budget cuts again. I’ve got piss-poor resources and a lack of staff.”

Which is all to say: I’ve got Max.

My dog.

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