Page 5 of Rescuing Ember

“Look at her go.” My voice comes out softer than intended, filled with awe and more than a little bit of respect. “No hesitation, no thought for her own safety. Just pure instinct to protect.”

I clear my throat, trying to regain my professional detachment, but I can’t shake the feeling that this woman, whoever she is, is extraordinary. The kind of person who reminds you that there’s still good in the world, even in the darkest moments.

The room grows quiet, and I feel the intensity of my team’s gazes. It’s not like me to get personally invested.

Mac leans forward, his massive frame making the chair creak in protest. “Gotta admire the balls on her. Everyone else on that street just stood there, but she jumped in without hesitation.”

Jennifer nods, a hint of admiration in her eyes. “True grit. Let’s hope it doesn’t get her killed.”

Mitzy’s computer chimes, drawing our attention. “Got a hit on our mystery woman. Ember Winters, age 22. Foster care system until she ran away at twelve. No fixed address.”

Mac leans in, squinting at the screen. “Hold up, Mitz. Pan back to the sidewalk. Looks like she was selling something.”

Mitzy’s fingers fly across the keyboard and the image shifts. The camera zooms in on the sidewalk where Ember had been standing. Scattered across the concrete are what look like small, colorful objects.

“Are those—candles?” Jenny asks, disbelief coloring her voice.

“Looks like.” Mitzy nods, her eyes scanning the new information popping up on her screen. “A former foster kid making a living on the street selling candles.”

The incongruity of it almost makes me laugh: a homeless candlemaker taking on armed kidnappers. Sometimes, truth is stranger than fiction.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Mac mutters, shaking his head in admiration. “Girl’s got more than guts. She’s got hustle.”

A newfound respect for Ember Winters grows with each revelation. A foster kid, making it on her own, building a business from nothing—and still willing to risk it all to help a stranger.

“We need to find her,” I say, my voice firm. “Not just for what she might know about the kidnappers, but for her safety. Whoever abducted Aria Holbrook won’t leave loose ends lying about.”

Ember Winters just became a key player in our mission.

“What else do you have on her?” I sense there’s more.

Mitzy’s expression darkens. “Multiple arrests for petty theft and trespassing, all charges eventually dropped. And—a sealed juvenile record.”

“What are we waiting for?” Holbrook, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet, explodes. “You have the van; you know who took her. We need to get my daughter now.”

I turn to him, meeting his frantic gaze. Every instinct screams to move, to act, but rushing in blind is an excellent way to get people killed.

Before I can respond, CJ steps forward, his voice calm and reassuring. “Mr. Holbrook, I understand your frustration, but please, let me explain our process.” He places a gentle hand on Holbrook’s shoulder, guiding him to a chair. “We’re not sitting idle. Every moment we spend gathering intel increases Aria’s chances of a safe return. Right now, we have teams tracking thevan’s route, analyzing the kidnappers’ methods, and building a profile of their organization. We’re laying the groundwork for a successful rescue.”

Holbrook’s shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him. “But… My little girl…”

“Is tough, like her old man,” CJ says with a small smile. “And we’re going to bring her home. But we need to do this right. Rushing in without a plan could put Aria in even more danger.”

I’m impressed by CJ’s ability to diffuse the situation. But there’s more Holbrook needs to understand. I step forward, my voice firm but not unkind.

“Mr. Holbrook, every kidnapping case is a puzzle. Right now, we’re gathering the pieces.” I gesture to the screens around us. “That van, the facial recognition, even the candlemaker—they’re all pieces. Rush in too soon, and we risk missing crucial information that could be the difference between success and failure.”

I meet his eyes, letting him see the determination in mine. “We’re not just rescuers. We’re hunters. And right now, we’re laying the trap that will bring your daughter home safely.”

Holbrook looks between CJ and me, conflict clear on his face. Finally, he nods, a tiny gesture of acceptance.

“Okay,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “Okay. Just—please. Find her.”

Mitzy backs CJ up, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Tracking the van’s movements takes time, sir. But I’ve followed colder trails before. We’ll have a location soon.”

“For now,” CJ adds, his calm presence a balm to the room’s tension, “you need to let us do what we do best. We’re the Guardian Hostage Rescue Specialists for a reason.”

Holbrook deflates, shoulders sagging. “I can’t lose her,” he whispers, voice cracking. “She’s all I have left.”

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