Two Weeks Later - Queens, New York

  Danny Martinez was twenty-eight years old and approximately $47,000 in debt.

  Medical bills, mostly. His mom's cancer treatment had bankrupted the family, even with insurance. She'd survived—thank God—but the bills hadn't stopped coming. Collection agencies called daily. His construction job barely covered rent and groceries, let alone the mountain of debt.

  He was desperate.

  Which is how he ended up in his cousin Rico's apartment at 11 PM on a Tuesday, listening to the worst plan he'd ever heard.

  "Kidnapping," Rico said, like he was suggesting they get pizza. "That's how we fix this."

  "That's how we go to prison," Danny replied, but his heart wasn't in the argument. He was too tired, too scared, too broke.

  "Only if we get caught," Rico's friend Marcus added. Marcus was a wannabe criminal who'd watched too many movies and not enough documentaries about people who'd actually gone to prison. "We just need to be smart about it."

  "Smart," Danny repeated. "About kidnapping."

  "Rich people pay ransoms," Rico insisted. "We find someone with money, grab them, get paid, let them go. Nobody gets hurt, we pay our debts, everyone wins."

  "Except the person we kidnap."

  "They're rich. They'll be fine. Probably have insurance for this kind of thing."

  Danny should have left. Should have walked out and never looked back. But his phone had three new voicemails from collection agencies, and his mom's next treatment was in two weeks, and he was so goddamn tired of being broke.

  "Okay," he heard himself say. "Let's say we do this. Hypothetically. How do we even find someone to... target?"

  Marcus pulled out his laptop—probably stolen, Danny didn't ask—and opened a browser.

  "We look for people who live alone, no security, predictable routines. Someone we can grab without causing a scene."

  "And rich," Rico added. "Very rich."

  "How do we know if someone's rich?"

  "Property records. You can search who owns what. We find someone living in an expensive place with no family, no bodyguards, easy access."

  Danny rubbed his face. This was insane. This was the worst idea ever.

  "Show me," he said anyway.

  Three Hours Later - 2:00 AM

  They'd gone through twenty-seven potential targets. Too many security cameras. Doormen. Families. Dogs. Unpredictable schedules.

  Then Marcus found Perseus Jackson.

  "This guy," Marcus said, turning his laptop around. "Lives in Manhattan, studio apartment, lives alone. No car, no security system that I can see. Same coffee shop every morning, library most afternoons. Like clockwork."

  "How do you know all that?" Danny asked.

  "Public cameras. I can access some of the city feeds. Also, he's on social media—well, people tag him. Look."

  Marcus pulled up an Instagram post from a community literacy program. A photo of volunteers, Perseus in the background.

  "He volunteers," Rico said. "So he's got money and a conscience. Perfect. He'll be easy to guilt into paying."

  "What makes you think he has money?" Danny asked.

  "Manhattan studio apartment? That's at least $2,500 a month. Probably more. Plus he doesn't work—I checked. No employment records I can find. Which means either trust fund or investments."

  Danny looked at the photo. Perseus Jackson looked... normal. Mid-thirties maybe, casual clothes, reading a book to someone.

  "He doesn't look rich."

  "Rich people who look rich have security," Marcus said. "Rich people who don't look rich? Those are the ones we want."

  "How much do we ask for?"

  "Start at a hundred thousand. Settle for fifty. Split three ways, that's about seventeen grand each."

  Seventeen thousand dollars would make a serious dent in Danny's debt. Not eliminate it, but enough to breathe. Enough to get the collection agencies off his back for a few months.

  "When?" he asked.

  "We watch him for a week," Marcus said. "Learn his patterns. Figure out the best grab point. Somewhere quiet, minimal cameras, easy extraction."

  Rico was already nodding. "We need a place to hold him. Somewhere isolated."

  "I know a warehouse," Marcus said. "Friend owes me a favor. It's empty, no one uses it. Perfect."

  Danny looked at the photo of Perseus Jackson again. The guy was helping someone learn to read. He looked kind. Patient.

  "Nobody gets hurt," Danny said firmly. "We grab him, we ask for money, we let him go. No violence. We're not monsters."

  "Agreed," Rico said. "We're not trying to hurt anyone. We just need money."

  "Okay." Danny took a deep breath. "Okay. One week of surveillance. We learn everything. Then we decide if this is actually doable."

  Marcus pulled up a map. "His coffee shop is here. Apartment is here. Library is here. We start tomorrow."

  Day 1 - Wednesday Morning

  Danny sat in a rented van across from "The Daily Grind" coffee shop, feeling like an idiot.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  This was really happening. He was really doing this.

  At 7:24 AM, Perseus Jackson walked into the coffee shop. Jeans, casual jacket, messenger bag. He ordered coffee, tipped the barista—Danny couldn't see how much but it looked generous—and sat down with a book.

  "Subject in location," Marcus said from the passenger seat, like he was in a cop show. "Taking notes on timing."

  "Don't call him 'subject,'" Danny said. "That's weird."

  "What should I call him?"

  "I don't know. Perseus?"

  "The guy we're going to kidnap."

  "Jesus, Marcus."

  They watched for two hours. Perseus read his book. Helped an old lady with her coat. Ordered a second coffee. Tipped again.

  "He tips a lot," Rico observed from the back seat.

  "That's a good sign," Marcus said. "Means he's got money to throw around."

  "Or he's just nice," Danny muttered.

  At 9:30 AM, Perseus left the coffee shop and walked toward the library.

  "Following at a distance," Marcus said, starting the van.

  They followed him—badly, Danny was certain, though Perseus didn't seem to notice—to the New York Public Library. He went inside.

  "We wait," Marcus said, parking illegally.

  "We're going to get a ticket."

  "Cost of doing business."

  Danny checked his phone. Three missed calls. All collection agencies. He silenced it.

  They waited four hours. Perseus didn't come out.

  "Maybe there's another exit," Rico suggested.

  "I'll check," Marcus said, pulling up building schematics on his laptop. "Yeah, three exits. We can't watch them all."

  "So we lost him."

  "We know where he lives. We'll pick him up there tomorrow."

  Day 3 - Friday Afternoon

  They'd been following Perseus for three days. His routine was incredibly consistent:

  Coffee shop, 7:20-9:30 AM

  Library or volunteer work, 9:30 AM-2:00 PM

  Lunch (various locations, always tipped heavily)

  More library time or walking around the city

  Home by 6:00 PM

  Lights out by 10:00 PM

  "He's boring," Rico complained. "Rich people are supposed to be interesting."

  "Rich people who don't want attention are boring on purpose," Marcus said. "Means he's hiding something. Probably the money."

  Danny was starting to feel guilty. Three days of watching this guy, and he'd done nothing but help people and read books. Every single interaction Danny had witnessed was Perseus being patient, kind, or generous.

  This was a good person they were planning to kidnap.

  "Maybe we should find someone else," Danny said.

  "We've already invested three days," Marcus argued. "Besides, look at him. No security, predictable routine, lives alone. This is perfect."

  "Perfect for us to screw up and go to prison."

  "Only if we're stupid about it. And we're not stupid."

  Danny very much felt like they were stupid, but he didn't argue.

  Day 5 - Sunday Evening

  "Okay," Marcus said, spreading a map across Rico's kitchen table. "I've got the plan."

  Danny looked at the map. Red marks indicated Perseus's common locations. Blue marks showed potential grab points.

  "Here," Marcus pointed to a spot between the coffee shop and library. "Quiet street, minimal foot traffic, two cameras but I can loop the feed. We grab him, put him in the van, drive to the warehouse. Thirty seconds, in and out."

  "And if he fights back?" Danny asked.

  "He won't. Look at him—he's a reader, not a fighter. Besides, there's three of us. We just need to be firm."

  "Firm," Danny repeated. "Okay."

  "We need zip ties, duct tape, burner phones for the ransom call."

  "When?" Rico asked.

  "Tomorrow. Monday morning. He'll be walking to the library. We grab him at 9:25 AM."

  Danny's phone rang. Collection agency again. He sent it to voicemail.

  "Tomorrow," he agreed.

  That Night - Danny's Apartment

  Danny couldn't sleep.

  He kept thinking about Perseus Jackson helping that old lady with her coat. Teaching people to read. Tipping baristas like money didn't matter.

  They were going to traumatize a good person because Danny was broke.

  His phone buzzed. Text from his mom: "Treatment went well today! Doctor says I'm responding great! Love you!"

  Danny stared at the text for a long time.

  The treatment that cost $12,000 a session. That insurance barely covered. That was burying his family alive.

  He texted back: "Love you too, Mom. So glad you're doing well."

  Then he texted Marcus: "I'm in. Tomorrow, 9:25 AM."

  He lay awake until 4:00 AM, hating himself.

  But not enough to stop.

  Monday Morning - 9:15 AM

  The van was parked on the quiet street. Danny was behind the wheel, hands sweating. Marcus was in the passenger seat with zip ties and duct tape. Rico was in the back, ready to help secure their target.

  "Ten minutes," Marcus said, checking his watch.

  Danny's heart was pounding so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest.

  "We can still call this off," he said.

  "We're not calling it off. Fifty thousand dollars, Danny. That's what we're getting. Seventeen grand each. That pays your mom's bills. That gets Rico caught up on rent. That gives me a fresh start."

  "By kidnapping someone."

  "By borrowing someone for a few hours and asking their family for money. That's all this is."

  That was not all this was, but Danny didn't argue.

  At 9:23 AM, Perseus Jackson appeared at the end of the street, walking toward them.

  "There he is," Marcus whispered. "Get ready."

  Danny watched Perseus approach. Messenger bag, casual clothes, probably thinking about his book.

  A good person. A kind person. About to have the worst day of his life because three desperate idiots thought kidnapping was a solution to their problems.

  "Now?" Rico asked from the back.

  "Wait until he's right next to us," Marcus said. "Then we move fast. Danny, you grab him. Rico and I will help get him in the van. Thirty seconds."

  Perseus was twenty feet away.

  Fifteen feet.

  Ten feet.

  "Now!" Marcus hissed.

  Danny opened the van door and stepped out, and for one horrible, crystal-clear moment, he made eye contact with Perseus Jackson.

  Perseus looked at him with absolutely no fear. Just... mild curiosity.

  Like he'd been expecting this.

  Then Danny grabbed his arm, and everything went wrong in ways he couldn't have possibly imagined.

  Well, not wrong for them. Perseus didn't fight. He just sighed—actually sighed—and said, "Well, this is new."

  And let them pull him into the van.

  Danny slammed the door shut, Marcus hit the gas, and they were moving.

  They'd done it.

  They'd actually kidnapped someone.

  Danny looked at Perseus, who was sitting calmly in the back of the van between Rico and the wall, zip-tied hands resting in his lap.

  "Are you going to hurt me?" Perseus asked. His voice was calm. Almost bored.

  "No!" Danny said quickly. "No, we're not going to hurt you. We just need money. Ransom. That's it."

  "Ah. Kidnapping for ransom. Classic." Perseus shifted to get more comfortable. "How much are you asking for?"

  "That's—we're not telling you that!"

  "Fair enough. Where are we going?"

  "Stop talking to him!" Marcus snapped from the driver's seat.

  "He asked a question," Danny said.

  "We're not supposed to be nice to him! We're kidnapping him!"

  Perseus made a small sound that might have been a laugh. "First time?"

  "Shut up!" Rico said, though he sounded more nervous than threatening.

  They drove in silence for ten minutes. Danny kept glancing back at Perseus, who looked completely unconcerned.

  "You're very calm for someone who just got kidnapped," Danny finally said.

  Perseus shrugged as much as the zip ties allowed. "I've been in worse situations."

  "Like what?"

  "Well, there was this time in 1986 when the KGB—actually, never mind. Long story."

  "Did you just say 1986? You're like thirty-five."

  "Thereabouts, yes."

  Something in his tone made Danny's stomach drop.

  "We didn't research this well enough, did we?" he asked Marcus.

  "We researched fine! He's just some rich guy!"

  "Some rich guy who's very calm about being kidnapped."

  "Shock," Marcus insisted. "He's in shock. He'll panic later."

  Danny looked at Perseus again. The man was absolutely not in shock.

  They pulled into the warehouse. Empty, isolated, perfect for their terrible plan.

  "Out," Marcus ordered, trying to sound tough.

  Perseus climbed out of the van without complaint. "Nice place. Bit drafty though. You might want to consider somewhere with heating if you're planning to keep me here long."

  "We're not keeping you long," Rico said. "Just until we get paid."

  "Mmm. How long do you think that will take?"

  "A day, maybe two."

  "Right. You're going to want to bring food then. And water. Also, a blanket. It gets cold at night."

  Danny stared at him. "Are you... are you giving us advice on how to kidnap you better?"

  Perseus looked at him with what might have been sympathy.

  "Son, you three clearly have no idea what you're doing. I'm just trying to help you not make this worse for yourselves than it already is."

  And that was when Danny realized they'd made a terrible, terrible mistake.

  Not because Perseus was dangerous.

  But because he was absolutely, completely unafraid.

  Which meant they were missing something very, very important.