Page 62 of Rescuing Aria
Forest steps forward, placing his hands flat on the table.
“We never recovered a body,” he says quietly. “We assumed. The fire. The blast. But this?” He looks at the screen. “This doesn’t feel like someone picking up the pieces. This feels like orders.”
“From Wolfe?” The weight of it settles like concrete.
If he’s alive—if Night Pack’s rebuilding—then this isn’t unfinished business.
It’s the beginning of something worse.
“There’s more.” Mitzy swipes to a new image—a photograph taken in what appears to be a high-end shopping district. “This was captured yesterday in San Francisco.”
The image shows a tall man in an expensive suit, face partially obscured by sunglasses. But even with the disguise, there’s something familiar in the bearing, the way he carries himself.
“Facial recognition is inconclusive,” Mitzy continues. “But gait analysis gives us an 87% match.”
“Damien Wolfe.” The name falls from my lips like a curse.
Forest straightens, his gaze sweeping the room. “As of this moment, we operate under the assumption that Damien Wolfe is alive and rebuilding Night Pack’s operations. All previous targets should be considered at potential risk.”
“Aria, Ember, and Ryn…” I meet Forest’s eyes directly. “Previous targets.”
“They won’t get near her again.” Blaze is already on his feet, fists clenched against the table, tension radiating off him in waves.
He doesn’t say Ember’s name. He doesn’t have to. It’s written in the tight line of his shoulders, the muscle ticking in his jaw.
“If Wolfe’s moving pieces, this isn’t about leverage—it’s about revenge,” Blaze says. “He’s sending a message. We need to answer it.”
“We will.” Forest meets his eyes, something unreadable flickering across his features.
Jenny continues outlining preliminary security protocols, but my mind races ahead. If Damien Wolfe is alive, if he’s rebuilding Night Pack, then Aria isn’t just dealing with her father’s controlling nature tonight. She’s potentially walking back into the crosshairs of a man who nearly destroyed her life.
The briefing concludes with assignments for increased surveillance and intelligence gathering. As the team files out,Forest remains, his stoic presence a gravitational force in the room.
“Jon.” Forest’s voice pulls me back to the moment. “A word, please.”
I comply, years of military discipline kicking in automatically. Forest is a legend in our world, a man who built Guardian HRS from nothing into a premier private security and hostage rescue organization globally.
“Your relationship with Aria Holbrook.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question. “How serious is it?”
“Excuse me?” The directness catches me off guard.
“Don’t insult either of us by pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about, loverboy.” His tone remains neutral, but his eyes don’t miss a thing.
“Wasn’t pretending. Just caught off guard.” I weigh my response carefully. “It’s—significant.”
“I see.” Forest leans back, fingers steepled. “And Marcus Holbrook’s awareness of this significance?”
“Limited.” I meet his gaze steadily. “Aria’s choice, though that’s changing tonight. She asked me to join her for dinner with him.”
Forest nods slowly, as if confirming something to himself. “Marcus Holbrook is not just a wealthy man. He’s powerful. The kind who makes problems disappear.”
“I’m aware of his reputation.”
“Are you?” A rare smile touches Forest’s lips, there and gone in an instant. “Marcus and I have history. Complex history. When his daughter was taken, he came to me specifically because of that history.”
This is new information. Forest’s connection to our clients typically remains professional and detached. The implication of personal history with someone like Marcus Holbrook raises questions I’m not sure I want answered.
“Marcus Holbrook protects what he considers his, and he very much considers his daughter his to protect. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
