No rope. No zip ties.
That’s something.
Jackson’s breathing is ragged against my neck, and it slowly grows a bit more steady as I rub his back with slow, soothing strokes.
I wonder how long I was out—how long Jackson has been scared and alone in this room because I was unconscious and couldn’t protect him.
And then, quickly on the coattails of that thought, I wonder if the monsters who took us drugged him too.
“Do you remember what happened?” I ask him quietly, brushing his hair back from his damp forehead as I lean back just enough to look at his face.
He nods, his eyes wide and glassy. “I was asleep in my room,” he says in just above a whisper, like he’s frightened that if he speaks too loudly, something bad will happen. “And then I heard this noise in the hallway. I thought it might be you, so I tried to fall back asleep. But then my door opened, and these ninjas came in…” His voice catches, and his lip trembles.
“Ninjas?” I ask. “What makes you think they were ninjas?”
“They were dressed in all black and carried little swords,” he says, sniffling, then he draws his wrist across his face to wipe his runny nose.
My sweet boy. I can only imagine what it must be like for him to process what’s happened tonight.
Of course ninjas would be the closest thing he could come up with to identify our kidnappers. He’s seen ninjas on TV.
And if these men were dressed in black and armed with knives, he could easily mistake the blades for tiny swords as he tried to make sense of things.
“What else, bud?” I encourage. “What else do you remember?”
“They told me I needed to come with them, but I said I wasn’t supposed to go with strangers. And then… then…” He swallows hard, his eyes growing round with fear, and he starts to tremble again. “They c–carried you out of your room. I called out to you, but you were still asleep.” He starts to sniffle harder again, his eyes welling with fresh tears. “I a–asked where they w–were taking you, and a man t–told me I had to c–come with you if I ever w–wanted to see you again!”
I can hear the monumental effort it takes for him to get it out before he breaks down, and then fresh sobs rack his tiny body ashe throws his arms around my neck and buries his face against my throat.
“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.” I hold him tight, my heart breaking. He must have been terrified. And I wasn’t awake to make him feel safe. Pulling him into my lap on the cold, hard ground, I rock him gently. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” I ask when his tears start to calm again.
Jackson shakes his head, but I can tell from the small tears along the seam of his shirt that they weren’t entirely gentle, either.
“And they didn’t make you breathe anything?” I ask, a lump in my throat. I don’t want him to know how scared I am, but the thought of him unconscious like I was…
“No,” he says quickly. “When we got outside, I tried to call for help. But they just… grabbed me and pushed me in the car. I yelled and tried to bite the one who grabbed me, but they didn’t care.”
Pride and fear twist together in my chest.My boy.
I cradle him against me, closing my eyes for a moment as relief trickles in.
He’s here with me.
He’s alive.
He’s alert—but that reassurance is paper-thin against the dread pressing down on me.
And then, like a spotlight snapping on in my mind, I know.
The flower shop—that man, Tanaka.
Something about him unsettled me from the start, but there’s no doubt in my mind that the exchange between him and Gio was little more than a thinly veiled threat.
He saw the way Gio reached for me… and called it awonderful new development.
I thought if I pushed Gio away, I could keep Jackson safe, but it was too little, too late.
And now Gio probably doesn’t even know we’re missing.
