verytoughdudesintrouble

 

Chapter 1

Twenty-one year old Jason Benson, oldest of his two brothers, sat shirtless, sweaty in the abandoned barn. His abs were tight and hurting from the gut punches trying to get him to talk. "How many fuckin' times do I have to tell you I don't know any of my father's transfer codes. Only he knows them! For Christ's sake stop this and let me go. Even if you were to torture me more, I can't tell you what I do not know."

One of the masked men holding a Glock pistol looked him in the eye. "Maybe you are telling the truth Benson. But there is another way we can get our money.... torturing you for ransom! Get the fuckin rope and tie him up. We have some planning to do."

The rough branch bit into Jason's back as they forced it between his shoulder blades and biceps, lashing it tight with coarse rope that scraped his skin raw. They pulled his wrists forward, binding them eight inches apart across his beaten gut, the rope cutting into his flesh with each labored breath. The cloth gag made every breath a struggle, but as they stepped back to admire their work, Jason noticed something they'd missed.

His feet. They'd left his feet untied.

One of the men pulled out a phone, the camera flash reflecting off Jason's sweat-streaked face. "Time to send daddy some pictures. Let him see what happens when his boy doesn't cooperate."

Jason's heart hammered against his ribs. Even bound and beaten, even with that branch torturing his shoulders, his legs were still free. If he could just find the right moment...

The phone clicked again. And again.

"Perfect," the man said, scrolling through the photos. "Now let's see how much daddy really loves his eldest son."

Chapter 2

Robert Benson's phone buzzed on his mahogany desk. The unknown number made his stomach clench—he'd been expecting this call since Jason hadn't come home last night.

"We have your boy," the distorted voice said. "Check your messages."

The line went dead. Robert's hands shook as he opened the photo attachments. Jason's face, streaked with sweat and blood. The rough branch cutting into his back. The ropes binding his wrists across his beaten stomach. The gag stretching his mouth.

"Dad?" Seventeen-year-old Marcus appeared in the doorway. "Everything okay? You look—"

"Fine," Robert snapped, quickly closing the photos. "Just... business stuff."

But Marcus had seen something. "Was that about Jason? He never came home last—"

"I said it's fine!" Robert's voice cracked. Behind Marcus, nineteen-year-old Derek emerged from the hallway, both boys staring at their father with growing concern.

The phone buzzed again. Another photo—this one showing Jason from a different angle, the branch pressing deeper into his shoulders, his face twisted in pain.

Then the text: Give us the transfer codes. All of them. You have 24 hours or your son dies.

Robert stared at the screen, his empire of lies crumbling in his mind. The transfer codes. They thought there was real money in those accounts. When they accessed them, they'd find five dollars and thirty-seven cents spread across six different banks. The ranch, the cars, the lifestyle—all of it borrowed against money that never existed.

"Dad?" Derek's voice was softer now. "What's going on?"

Robert looked at his two remaining sons, their faces full of trust and worry. How could he tell them that their brother was going to die because their father was a fraud?

Chapter 3

Robert sat in his leather chair for three hours, staring at the photos of his tortured son. Marcus and Derek had tried asking questions twice more before giving up, retreating to their rooms with worried glances.

The deadline was approaching. In nine hours, they'd kill Jason.

His phone rang. Same distorted voice. "Time's running out, Benson. We want those codes."

Robert closed his eyes. There was no choice. "I'll send them."

With trembling fingers, he typed out the transfer codes for all six accounts. Every fake number that had built his empire of lies. When they accessed them, they'd find five dollars and thirty-seven cents. Total.

Twenty minutes later, his phone exploded with calls. The same distorted voice, but now filled with rage.

"You piece of shit! Five fucking dollars? FIVE DOLLARS?"

The line went dead. Robert's hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold the phone.

"Marcus! Derek!" His voice cracked as he called them. "Get down here. Now."

They appeared within seconds, faces pale with fear.

"Sit down." Robert's voice was barely a whisper. "I need to tell you something about Jason. About everything."

He showed them the photos first. Derek gasped and turned away. Marcus went white.

"Dad, what the hell—"

"They kidnapped him for money," Robert interrupted. "Money they thought I had. Money that doesn't exist." He laughed bitterly. "Everything we have is borrowed. The ranch, the cars, your college funds. It's all built on what's called a Ponzi scheme."

"What's that?" Derek's voice was small.

"I took money from new investors to pay fake profits to old investors. Made everyone think they were getting rich while I spent their money on this lifestyle. And now they're going to kill your brother because of it."

Marcus stood up slowly. "You're saying Jason's going to die because you're a fraud?"

"I'm saying I don't know how to save him."

Derek was already reaching for his phone. "I do." His fingers moved across the screen. "FBI? I need to report a kidnapping. And I need to turn in my father."

Chapter 4

The barn door slammed open. Jason looked up through swollen eyes as his captors stormed in, their faces twisted with rage.

"Your daddy's broke!" The first man grabbed Jason's gag and ripped it from his mouth. "Five fucking dollars! That's all your rich daddy had!"

Jason gasped for air, his mouth dry and torn. "What... what are you talking about?"

"Your father's accounts," the second man snarled. "All of them. Five dollars and thirty-seven cents. Total."

"That's impossible," Jason croaked. "My father's worth millions. The ranch, the investments—"

"It's all fake!" The first man's fist connected with Jason's ribs. "Your daddy's been running a Ponzi scheme. Taking money from new investors to pay the old ones. Making everyone think they're getting rich while he spends their money on your fancy lifestyle."

Jason's world tilted. "No... no that can't be right."

"Oh, it's right alright. Your whole life is built on stolen money. And now we're stuck with the worthless son of a worthless fraud."

The second man kicked Jason's shin. "All this time we thought we grabbed the golden boy. Turns out daddy's just another thief."

They beat him for ten minutes—ribs, stomach, legs. Each blow sent fire through the ropes binding his wrists. The branch behind his back became a torture device as they used it for leverage, pressing him forward into their fists.

Finally, they stepped back, breathing hard.

"Worthless piece of shit, just like your old man." The first man spat on the ground. "We're done with this. Let's get out of here."

"What about him?"

"Let him rot. Nobody's coming for him now."

The barn door slammed shut. Jason heard their truck start and fade into the distance.

Silence.

Jason stared at the dirty barn floor, his mind reeling. A Ponzi scheme. His father. Everything he'd ever known was a lie.

But he was still alive. And his feet were still free.

The branch ends protruding from his sides made it impossible to roll over. Instead, he used his legs to scoot backward across the barn floor until his shoulders hit the wall. Then, bracing his feet against the ground, he pushed himself upward along the wall until he was standing.

The woods outside were thick, but it was his only chance.

Nobody was coming for him. He had to save himself.

Chapter 5

The FBI arrived within thirty minutes. Agent Martinez flashed his badge as Derek opened the front door. "We got your call about a kidnapping and securities fraud."

"My father's in the study," Derek said, his voice steady despite everything. "He's been waiting."

They found Robert Benson slumped in his leather chair, staring at his hands. When Agent Martinez announced he was under arrest, Robert looked up with hollow eyes.

"My son," he whispered. "You have to find Jason first. Please."

"You're under arrest for securities fraud and conspiracy," Agent Martinez said, pulling out handcuffs. "You have the right to remain silent..."

"NO!" Robert suddenly came alive, fighting against the handcuffs. "You don't understand! They're going to kill him! My boy is going to die!"

Two agents grabbed his arms as he thrashed wildly. "I need to help find him! Let me help! Please!"

"Dad, stop!" Marcus shouted, but Robert was beyond reason.

"I'M SORRY!" Robert screamed as they dragged him toward the door. "I'M SORRY! BOYS, I'M SORRY!"

Derek and Marcus watched through the window as their father was shoved into the back of a police car, still screaming apologies and pleas about Jason.

"Sir," Agent Martinez said, turning to the brothers. "We need to move fast. Can you give us your father's phone? We can track where those calls came from."

Derek handed over the device. "They said they'd kill him."

"We'll find him," Agent Martinez said, studying the phone. "But your father will never see you boys again as a free man. You understand that?"

Marcus nodded grimly. "Good. Now let's find our brother."

Agent Martinez held up the phone as the signal triangulated. "Got them. Abandoned property fifteen miles north of here."

The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter 6

The FBI van screeched to a halt outside the abandoned barn. Agent Martinez kicked open the door as the tactical team surrounded the building. "Clear the structure!"

Derek and Marcus sat in the back of the van, watching armed agents storm the weathered building. "What if they're still in there?" Derek whispered.

"Then we get Jason back," Marcus replied, but his voice was shaking.

"CLEAR!" came the shout from inside the barn.

Agent Martinez emerged, his face grim. "They're gone. But your brother was here."

The brothers jumped out of the van and followed him into the barn. Pieces of cut rope and duct tape lay scattered across the dirty floor. Dark stains marked the wooden planks where Jason had been bound.

"Sir!" One of the agents called out from the doorway. "Blood trail heading toward the tree line!"

Agent Martinez knelt beside the drops of blood leading into the woods. The trail was faint but clear—someone had walked from the barn into the dense forest.

"He's on foot," Agent Martinez said, standing up. "Injured, but moving under his own power."

Derek stared at the blood drops. "How long ago?"

"Hours. Maybe six or seven." Agent Martinez was already reaching for his radio. "I need search and rescue teams, K-9 units, and helicopters. We've got a missing person in dense forest, possibly injured, and it's getting dark."

Marcus looked into the dark woods stretching endlessly before them. "How are we going to find him in there?"

"We'll find him," Agent Martinez said grimly. "But we need to move fast. He's been missing for over twenty-four hours now, and these woods go on for miles."

The massive search was about to begin.Chapter 7

Jason stumbled deeper into the woods, the branch ends catching on every low-hanging limb and cluster of undergrowth. Each snag sent fire through his shoulders and twisted the ropes deeper into his wrists.

The forest floor was uneven, roots and rocks waiting to trip him. Without his arms for balance, every step was a calculated risk. Fall the wrong way, and the branch could snap his ribs or puncture something vital.

He'd been walking for three hours when exhaustion hit. His legs shook, and sweat poured down his face despite the cool air. The branch felt heavier with each step, the rope cutting circulation from his hands.

Behind him, he could hear the distant sound of helicopters. Search teams. But were they looking for him, or hunting him as an accomplice to his father's crimes?

He kept moving.

A thick vine caught the right end of his branch, jerking him backward. He fought to free himself, the rope around his wrists tearing fresh wounds. Blood ran down his fingers as he finally broke loose.

The sun was setting. In a few hours, he'd be stumbling through these woods in total darkness.

Meanwhile, the search teams spread out through the forest. Agent Martinez coordinated from the command post they'd set up at the barn. "We've got thermal imaging from the helicopters, but the tree cover is too thick. The dogs are our best bet."

Derek and Marcus stood beside him, staring at the map marked with search grids. "He's been out there for hours," Derek said. "How long can someone survive like that?"

"Depends on his injuries and his will to live," Agent Martinez replied. "Your brother's tough. He made it out of that barn when his captors left him for dead."

Marcus pointed to a section of the map. "What about this area? It's got water."

"Already have a team heading there." Agent Martinez's radio crackled. "Control, this is Team Three. We've got broken branches and possible fabric caught on a tree. Grid section C-7."

"That's him," Derek said immediately. "He's heading toward the river."

Agent Martinez nodded. "All teams, converge on grid C-7. We've got a trail."

The race against time had begun.Chapter 8

Thirty-six hours after Jason had disappeared, Derek heard the weakest sound—a branch snapping somewhere ahead in the dense undergrowth.

"Over here!" he shouted, crashing through the bushes with Marcus close behind. The search team followed, their flashlights cutting through the early morning darkness.

They found Jason collapsed against a massive oak tree, the branch still bound behind his back, his wrists purple and swollen from the ropes. His eyes were glazed, unfocused, his lips cracked and bleeding.

"Jason!" Marcus dropped to his knees beside his brother. "Oh God, Jason, we found you."

Jason's head lifted slowly, his eyes struggling to focus. "Derek? Marcus?" His voice was barely a whisper. "Are you... are you real?"

"We're here, brother. We're here."

But Jason's face twisted with panic. "No, no, you have to get away from here. Dad... where's Dad? Did he hurt you to get away? Did he—"

"Jason, stop," Derek said gently, his hands already working on the ropes. "Dad's not here. He's not going to hurt anyone."

"He'll kill you both," Jason mumbled, his mind still trapped in the nightmare. "He'll do anything to escape. You have to run."

Marcus looked at Derek with tears in his eyes. "He doesn't know."

Agent Martinez appeared behind them. "Step back, boys. Let the medics work."

"No," Derek said firmly. "We called you. We turned him in. We're untying our brother."

Jason's eyes widened as Derek's words sank in. "You... you turned him in?"

"The FBI has him," Marcus said, carefully cutting the rope around Jason's wrists. "He's in custody. He can't hurt anyone anymore."

"But the money... the ranch..."

"Was all fake," Derek said. "A Ponzi scheme. Dad stole money from investors to pay for our lifestyle. But it's over now."

Jason stared at his brothers as they freed him from the branch, his mind struggling to process everything. "You... you chose me over him?"

"Of course we did," Marcus said, helping Jason sit up straight. "You're our brother."

The medics rushed in with a stretcher, but Jason grabbed Derek's arm with his freed hand. "I'm so proud of you both," he whispered. "So proud."

Derek smiled through his tears. "We're going to be okay, Jason. All three of us. We're going to be okay."

As they loaded Jason onto the stretcher, Agent Martinez approached the brothers. "Your uncle's been trying to reach you. Says he wants to help with the ranch."

Marcus nodded. "We'll need all the help we can get."

Jason squeezed Derek's hand one more time. "We're free," he whispered. "Finally free."

The three brothers had survived their father's lies. Now they could begin to rebuild.

Hospital Meeting

Derek and Marcus sat in the hospital waiting room, exhaustion etched on their faces. Jason was stable but still recovering from dehydration and his injuries. The doctors said he'd need at least another day before he could go home.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. Their uncle Tom appeared around the corner, his weathered face grim, followed by his two sons—Jake, twenty-two, and Sam, twenty-four.

"Boys," Tom said, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled Derek and Marcus into a rough embrace. "I'm so sorry. I'm so goddamn sorry."

"Uncle Tom," Derek said, his voice cracking. "We didn't know who else to call."

"You did right." Tom released them and stepped back. "Your father... Jesus, what he did..." He shook his head. "How's Jason?"

"Alive," Marcus said simply. "That's what matters."

Tom's sons hung back, unsure. Jake finally spoke up. "We heard about the ranch. About the... the scheme."

"It's all gone," Derek said. "Everything. The FBI seized the property, the cars, the bank accounts. We don't have anything left."

Tom sat down heavily in one of the plastic chairs. His voice hardened. "He can rot in hell for what he did to you boys."

Sam stepped forward. "Dad and I talked on the drive over. We want to help. The ranch—what's left of it—we can make it work. Smaller operation, but honest."

Derek looked at his uncle. "Why? After what he did?"

"Because you're not him," Tom said firmly. "You're good boys. You proved that when you turned him in to save Jason." He stood up. "We're family. Real family. And family takes care of each other."

Jake nodded. "We've got some money saved. Not much, but enough to get started. A few head of cattle, basic equipment."

"We'll work for it," Marcus said quickly. "We don't want charity."

Tom smiled for the first time. "I know you will. That's why this is going to work."

A nurse appeared in the doorway. "Jason Benson is asking for his brothers."

"We're all going," Tom said, standing up. "Jason needs to hear this from all of us."

They crowded into Jason's hospital room. He looked up from his bed, his face still pale but his eyes clear. "Uncle Tom?"

"Hey there, son," Tom said, pulling up a chair. "Jake and Sam are here too. We came as soon as we heard."

Jason's eyes moved between his uncle and cousins. "I'm sorry about Dad. About what he—"

"Stop," Tom said firmly. "You boys have nothing to apologize for. Nothing." He leaned forward. "We're here to talk about the future. Your future."

Derek stepped closer to the bed. "Uncle Tom wants to help us rebuild the ranch."

"Smaller operation," Sam added. "But legitimate. Clean."

Jason looked at each of them, his voice barely above a whisper. "You'd do that? After everything?"

"You're family," Jake said simply. "Real family. And we take care of each other."

Jason closed his eyes, tears running down his cheeks. "I thought we'd lost everything."

"You lost the lies," Tom said. "Now you get to build something true. Something that's really yours."

Jason opened his eyes and looked at his brothers. "We're really going to be okay, aren't we?"

Marcus squeezed his hand. "We're going to be better than okay. It will be ours!"