Page 113 of Rescuing Aria
“Current location?”
“Staying with Aria at her apartment above the candle shop.”
Jenny’s eyebrow lifts fractionally. “Risk assessment?”
“Minimal.” I meet her gaze directly. “She’s traumatized but not dangerous. Storm’s been monitoring the situation.”
“Storm has been monitoring the situation,” CJ repeats my words, the slight emphasis suggesting he knows exactly what that means.
“He’s thorough.” I don’t elaborate further. If Storm’s growing interest in Hope mirrors my own complicated feelings for Aria, that’s his business.
“Ten casualties total.” Jenny scrolls through her report. “Marcus, Wolfe, and his men. No civilian losses beyond Marcus Holbrook.”
Ten men. Not a record for a Delta operation, but significant. I remember each face from the compound—securityprofessionals, not street thugs. Men doing a job. Wrong side, wrong employer, wrong time.
“The evidence recovered from Wolfe’s office?” Forest asks.
“Secured in the vault.” I nod toward the floor, where three levels down, steel boxes hold enough information to destroy a dozen reputations in international banking. “Financial records, medical files, surveillance photos. Marcus Holbrook was running a sophisticated organ harvesting operation in developing countries for nearly two decades.”
“And his connection to Wolfe?”
“Half-brothers.” The revelation still feels surreal, too convenient for fiction. “Same father, different mothers. Marcus recognized as the legitimate heir, while Wolfe was abandoned and disowned. Otherwise, no connection. Their businesses were independent of each other.”
“Wolfe’s motive?”
“Revenge, primarily.” I lean forward, elbows on the table. “Wolfe spent years documenting Marcus’s crimes. The second kidnapping wasn’t about hurting Marcus—it was about revealing the truth to Aria. Making her see who her father really was.”
“And did she?” CJ’s gaze sharpens.
Images flash—Aria facing down Marcus in those final moments, spine straight despite the gun aimed at her chest. Her voice unwavering as she rejected his demands, his threats, his manipulations.
“Yes. She saw everything clearly. Too clearly.”
CJ nods, understanding what I’m not saying. The trauma of those revelations won’t fade easily. The psychological impact of learning her father murdered her mother, trafficked in human organs, and built her entire life on blood money isn’t something that heals overnight.
“The official story?” Jenny asks, pragmatic as always.
“Already in motion.” CJ stands, signaling the end of the debriefing. “Marcus Holbrook died protecting his daughter from his estranged half-brother, a known criminal. Tragic family drama. Nothing about organ trafficking, nothing about Rebecca’s murder. The public record remains sanitized.”
“With respect…” Something in me rebels at the thought of Marcus’s legacy surviving intact.
“The files remain sealed.” CJ’s tone allows no argument. “For now. Ms. Holbrook has enough to process without the added weight of public scrutiny. What she chooses to do with that information later is her decision.”
He’s right, of course. Aria needs time to grieve, to process, to rebuild before facing the inevitable media circus that would follow such revelations. The truth hasn’t disappeared—it’s just been contained.
“Understood.” I stand, muscles protesting after hours of debriefing.
“She’s going to need more than protection.” His voice drops. “She’s going to need someone who sees her clearly. Not as Marcus Holbrook’s daughter. Not as a client. As herself.”
The insight catches me off guard. CJ doesn’t do personal advice or emotional counseling. He trains operatives to complete missions, not to navigate relationships.
Before I can respond, he’s gone, the door closing behind him with quiet finality.
“You’re compromised.” Jenny waits until his footsteps fade down the corridor before speaking. There’s no accusation in her tone, just a statement of fact. Jenny doesn’t judge. She assesses.
“Yes.” No point denying what we both know.
“How are you handling it?”
