Chapter 5 - The Viral Spark
The message was from Marcus—my former handler, the only man who had helped me fake my death when I found out I was pregnant with Sarah. If Marcus was breaking radio silence after thirteen years, it meant the perimeter was completely collapsed.
I closed the case, locked it, and went back upstairs. I pulled out my laptop at the kitchen island, opening a private proxy browser, and typed in the local martial arts forum.
The top thread had a flashing red badge: **"SUBURBAN MOM DESTROYS JAKE 'THE HAMMER' AT NORTHSIDE DOJO."**
I clicked the link.
The video had been recorded from behind the glass observation window by one of the waiting teenagers. The angle was shaky, but the resolution was brutally clear. It showed Jake advancing on me, chest puffed out, throwing his heavy right hook. Then it showed me stepping inside the arc, wrapping his arm, locking my hip, and executing a flawless *Uchi Mata* that launched him through the air like a ragdoll.
The video paused on my face just as I stood over him, hands loosely clasped, eyes dead and focused.
The comments were a disaster.
*— "Holy shit, who is that woman? That's not normal judo, look at the thumb strike to the throat on the entry."*
*— "That's military. Look at the balance recovery. She doesn't even shift her heels."*
*— "Isn't that the old strike form from the Blackwood unit in '09? I thought all those operatives were dead."*
*— "Owner of the dojo just posted that his gym was paid a visit by some guys in suits asking for her membership file."*
My stomach dropped.
Jake didn't have my real identity—I had registered Sarah under the name Lily Parker with an alias debit card tied to an offshore shell company. But my address was on the liability waiver Sarah had signed for her junior belt tests.
"Mom?"
I slammed the laptop shut and spun around.
Sarah was standing at the foot of the stairs, wearing her flannel pajamas, holding her cell phone. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but the confusion on her face had turned into cold panic.
"My friends are texting me," she said, her voice shaking uncontrollably. "Someone put a video of you on TikTok. It has two hundred thousand views. People are asking if you're an undercover cop or... or a hitwoman. Mom, who are those men standing across the street?"
I moved to the window.
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The gray Dodge Charger wasn't alone anymore. A black SUV had pulled up behind it. Four men had stepped out onto the damp pavement, wearing dark windbreakers, their hands resting ominously inside their pockets.
***
