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Can’t Hurt Me* is a raw, electrifying thriller of grit and resilience that takes you on a rollercoaster through the mind and life of David Goggins, a man who turned pain into power. From a troubled childhood to becoming a Navy SEAL, ultramarathon runner, and global inspiration, Goggins shares his story of pushing past every limit to achieve the impossible. Packed with gripping anecdotes and life-changing lessons, this book challenges you to confront your excuses, redefine your limits, and unleash the unstoppable force within. Get ready to transform your mindset—because nothing can hurt you if you own your mind!
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
CAN'T HURT ME
Warren Fjord
Published by Warren Fjord, 2024.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
CAN'T HURT ME
First edition. December 30, 2024.
Copyright © 2024 Warren Fjord.
Written by Warren Fjord.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
CAN'T HURT ME
A Thriller
Written By
Warren Fjord
All Rights Reserved.
The content of this book is protected by copyright. Reproduction in any form is strictly prohibited without written permission from the publisher or author, except as allowed by U.S. copyright law.
Copyright ©2024 by Warren Fjord.
Creating Can't Hurt Me: A Thriller has been a journey filled with countless lessons, moments of reflection, and the support of incredible individuals who have shaped this book and my ability to bring it to life.
First and foremost, I want to thank my readers—both seasoned thriller enthusiasts and those discovering this genre for the first time. Your unwavering curiosity and love for storytelling fuel my passion and commitment to creating narratives that grip the soul and challenge the mind.
To my family and close friends, thank you for your boundless encouragement, patience, and belief in me throughout the writing process. Your love has been my anchor, and your support has given me the confidence to dive into the depths of creativity.
To the editors and proofreaders whose sharp eyes and critical insights helped polish this story, thank you for your dedication to precision and your belief in the power of a well-crafted sentence. Your input was invaluable in refining the twists and turns that define this book.
To my publishing team, thank you for championing this story and working tirelessly to ensure its success. Your vision, guidance, and expertise have turned an idea into a book that can reach readers worldwide.
To the individuals who shared their knowledge and expertise to make the details of this book authentic—whether in criminal investigation, journalism, or psychology—thank you for generously lending your time and wisdom. Your insights brought depth and realism to this story.
To those who have faced the shadows of their past and found the courage to rise again—this book is for you.
To the ones who carry the weight of unspoken battles, the scars of loss, and the echoes of guilt, may you find strength in the fight and solace in the journey toward healing.
To the relentless seekers of truth, those who refuse to turn away from darkness even when it threatens to consume them, and to those who understand that justice is not always a clean or simple path—this story honors your perseverance.
To the ones who protect without recognition, who stand tall in the face of corruption, and who believe that even a fractured system is worth saving, your courage inspires the hero within us all.
To the allies who never falter, who lend their strength, wisdom, and loyalty even when the odds seem insurmountable, may you see the profound impact of your presence in the lives you touch.
Finally, to anyone who has ever been told that their fight is over, their worth is gone, or their spirit can be broken—this is a reminder that you are unyielding. You are unstoppable. And no matter how dark the night, you will emerge stronger, sharper, and brighter.
This book is dedicated to you.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
DEDICATION
BOOK BLURB
CHAPTER 1
SHADOWS OF THE PAST
CHAPTER 2
A DISTURBING MESSAGE
CHAPTER 3
THE MISSING LINK
CHAPTER 4
THE FIRST CLUE
CHAPTER 5
THE UNSEEN ENEMY
CHAPTER 6
REOPENING OLD WOUNDS
CHAPTER 7
THE ALLY
CHAPTER 8
A WARNING TOO LATE
CHAPTER 9
UNCOVERING THE NETWORK
CHAPTER 10
AN UNEXPECTED BETRAYAL
CHAPTER 11
RACE AGAINST TIME
CHAPTER 12
THE STRANGER'S HELP
CHAPTER 13
FRACTURED TRUST
CHAPTER 14
THE DOUBLE BLUFF
CHAPTER 15
A CITY ON EDGE
CHAPTER 16
THE MIDNIGHT MEETING
CHAPTER 17
A TWISTED REVELATION
CHAPTER 18
BREAKING POINT
CHAPTER 19
INTO THE DEPTHS
CHAPTER 20
THE ARCHITECT’S GAME
CHAPTER 21
CONFRONTING THE MASTERMIND
CHAPTER 22
THE ESCAPE PLAN
CHAPTER 23
UNVEILING THE NETWORK
CHAPTER 24
A HAUNTING CHOICE
CHAPTER 25
THE CHASE
CHAPTER 26
LOST AND FOUND
CHAPTER 27
BENEATH THE SURFACE
CHAPTER 28
THE BREAKING CODE
CHAPTER 29
THE SACRIFICE
CHAPTER 30
THE FINAL COUNTDOWN
CHAPTER 31
THE CITY'S DARKEST HOUR
CHAPTER 32
ALLIES UNITE
CHAPTER 33
THE ARCHITECT'S MESSAGE
CHAPTER 34
THE HEART OF THE ENEMY
CHAPTER 35
A PERSONAL VENDETTA
CHAPTER 36
SHATTERED ILLUSIONS
CHAPTER 37
THE FIGHT FOR SURVIVAL
CHAPTER 38
A SPLIT DECISION
CHAPTER 39
THE COLLAPSE
CHAPTER 40
VICTORY AT A COST
CHAPTER 41
PICKING UP THE PIECES
CHAPTER 42
UNMASKING THE ARCHITECT
CHAPTER 43
A FRACTURED CITY
CHAPTER 44
THE UNFINISHED BUSINESS
CHAPTER 45
EMILY'S LEGACY
CHAPTER 46
A NEW PURPOSE
CHAPTER 47
THE GHOSTS OF THE PAST
CHAPTER 48
THE FINAL PIECE
CHAPTER 49
THE CALL
CHAPTER 50
FULL CIRCLE
Alex Carter thought he had buried his past. A decorated detective turned recluse, Alex walked away from the force after a devastating case shattered his confidence and claimed an innocent life. But when a cryptic letter arrives at his doorstep, dredging up the shadows of his failure, Alex is thrust back into a deadly game he thought he had left behind.
The letter points to "The Hollow Circle," a secretive and ruthless criminal organization that has been pulling strings from the shadows for years. As Alex reconnects with investigative journalist Emily Torres, the two uncover a chilling conspiracy that runs deeper than anyone imagined—one with connections to the city's elite and a plan that threatens countless lives.
Pursued by enemies at every turn, Alex must confront not only the relentless masterminds behind "The Hollow Circle," but also the guilt and regret that have haunted him for years. Every clue brings him closer to the truth—and closer to becoming a pawn in "The Architect's" twisted game.
In a race against time, Alex must rely on his instincts, his wits, and his unbreakable will to protect the city and redeem himself. But as the stakes rise, he faces a haunting question: How far will he go to stop a monster without becoming one himself?
Fast-paced, heart-pounding, and filled with gripping twists, Can't Hurt Me: A Thriller is a tale of redemption, resilience, and the unrelenting pursuit of justice.
Perfect for fans of gritty crime thrillers and psychological suspense.
Alex Carter sat in the dimly lit corner of his small apartment, a glass of whiskey cradled in his hand. The faint hum of the city outside barely penetrated the suffocating silence within. The walls were lined with the remnants of a life he no longer recognized—awards, commendations, and photographs from his time as one of the city's most decorated detectives. Now, they felt like relics of a stranger's existence.
His eyes lingered on a framed newspaper clipping hanging crooked on the wall. “Detective Carter Saves Hostages in Daring Raid.” The headline mocked him now. He had once been the department's golden boy, the man who could solve any case. But that was before the Riverdale Incident. Before everything had gone wrong.
The memory clawed at him, sharp and relentless. The face of a young girl, eyes wide with terror, flickered in his mind. He had failed her. No amount of time or alcohol could dull the image, nor could it drown out the screams that had seared themselves into his soul.
Alex ran a hand through his unkempt hair and stared at the peeling paint on the ceiling. It had been three years since he turned in his badge, but the wounds still felt fresh. He had cut himself off from the world, retreating into this claustrophobic sanctuary where he could keep his guilt company.
A sudden knock at the door shattered the stillness, jolting him upright. It wasn’t the knock itself, but the peculiar rhythm—a sharp rap, followed by two softer ones. Hesitant, deliberate, almost coded. Alex set his glass down and approached the door cautiously.
Peering through the peephole, he saw nothing but the distorted view of the empty hallway. His hand hovered over the doorknob. Just ignore it, he told himself. But something deep in his gut—a detective’s instinct that hadn’t entirely dulled—urged him to open it.
As the door creaked open, Alex found an envelope lying on the floor. No address, no postage—just his name, scrawled in black ink. He looked both ways down the corridor, but it was deserted.
He picked up the envelope and shut the door behind him. The weight of it felt oddly substantial in his hands, like it carried more than just paper. Sliding his finger under the flap, he pulled out a single sheet of folded parchment.
The words inside were sparse but chilling.
“We know what you did. And what you didn’t.”
Beneath the message was a symbol—a simple circle with a jagged line cutting through it. Alex’s heart pounded as he stared at the emblem. It was a symbol he hadn’t seen in years, one that was etched in the darkest corners of his past.
The Hollow Circle.
The name resurfaced like a buried corpse clawing its way to the surface. Alex dropped the letter as if it had burned him. Memories surged forward—conversations, reports, whispers in dark alleys. The Hollow Circle wasn’t just a symbol. It was a harbinger of chaos.
He sank into his chair, the letter trembling in his hands. The ghosts of Riverdale had returned, and they weren’t done with him yet.
Alex Carter stared at the letter, his mind whirling with questions and half-formed memories. The stark black ink on the pale paper felt like a brand, searing into his thoughts. We know what you did. And what you didn’t.
The message was too precise to be a coincidence. Whoever sent it knew about Riverdale—knew about his failure. But how? The case was buried as deeply as the victim. Officially, it was closed, filed away under the weight of bureaucracy and departmental silence. Unofficially, it had become a ghost story whispered among officers, a cautionary tale of what happens when even the best detectives lose their grip.
Alex rubbed his temples, his pulse hammering in his ears. The envelope offered no clues—no return address, no fingerprints, nothing to suggest its origin. The only hint was the symbol at the bottom: a jagged line bisecting a circle.
The Hollow Circle.
Alex hadn’t heard that name in years. It wasn’t just a criminal organization; it was an enigma. Whispers of their existence circulated in backrooms and alleyways, but no one could prove they were real. Some officers dismissed it as a myth, a convenient scapegoat for unsolved crimes. But Alex had seen enough to know better. He’d encountered their handiwork before—meticulously staged crime scenes, anonymous threats, and a trail of destruction that led nowhere.
And now, they were reaching out to him.
He rose from his chair, pacing the small living room as fragments of his past began to surface. The Riverdale case wasn’t just his biggest failure; it was his darkest. The final days of that investigation had been a blur of dead ends and frantic leads, each one pulling him deeper into despair.
Another knock at the door shattered his thoughts.
Alex froze, his heart skipping a beat. He glanced at the letter still clutched in his hand, then back at the door. Slowly, he approached it, his senses heightened. He checked the peephole—nothing.
Cautiously, he opened the door.
The hallway was empty again, but this time, a small package lay on the floor. Unlike the envelope, this was wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with twine. Alex glanced down both ends of the corridor, but whoever had left it was long gone.
He brought the package inside, setting it down on the table next to the letter. The twine came loose easily, and he unfolded the paper to reveal its contents: a single object—a photograph.
Alex’s breath caught in his throat.
It was a picture of the Riverdale victim. She was alive in the photo, her wide, innocent eyes staring directly into the camera. But something was wrong. She was surrounded by darkness, her expression one of forced calm. Behind her, barely visible, was the faint outline of the Hollow Circle symbol, glowing faintly on the wall like graffiti.
The image had been taken recently.
Alex’s hands trembled as he flipped the photo over. On the back, more words were scrawled in the same sharp handwriting:
“You missed the truth. Now it’s time to face it.”
The words hit him like a sledgehammer. For three years, he had lived with the belief that she was dead, a victim of his failure. But if this photograph was real—if she was alive—it meant everything he thought he knew about that case was wrong.
His phone buzzed on the counter, startling him. He snatched it up, half-expecting an unknown number. Instead, it was an email notification. The subject line read:
“Tick Tock, Detective Carter.”
Alex opened it.
There was no text, just a video file. His finger hovered over the play button, his mind racing with possibilities. Finally, he tapped it.
The screen flickered to life, showing a dimly lit room. The camera panned slowly, revealing the same girl from the photograph, sitting in a chair. She was bound, her expression frozen in fear. Behind her, the Hollow Circle symbol loomed again, painted in bold strokes on the wall.
A distorted voice broke the silence.
“Three years ago, you failed her. Now you’ll have to prove you can save her. The clock starts now, Detective.”
The video ended abruptly, leaving Alex staring at his reflection in the black screen.
His heart pounded as he set the phone down. The Hollow Circle had drawn him into their game, and this time, they were making it personal.
Alex Carter sat at his kitchen table, the photograph and letter spread out before him like pieces of a cruel puzzle. The distorted voice from the video echoed in his mind, a haunting reminder that time was slipping away. He had to act, but where to begin? The Hollow Circle thrived on misdirection and shadows. To find the girl, he needed to uncover their trail—a task that had eluded even the best detectives.
He booted up his aging laptop, its screen flickering to life. His fingers moved instinctively, typing in his credentials to access an old network of investigative archives. Though retired, Alex still had backdoor access to police databases—a habit he hadn’t been able to kick. He searched for any new reports tied to the Riverdale case, but the files were as silent as ever.
Frustrated, he shifted his focus. If the Hollow Circle was behind the girl’s disappearance, they might have left clues in other cases. Alex widened his search, combing through missing persons reports over the past five years. The deeper he dug, the more a disturbing pattern began to emerge.
Several cases, scattered across the city, shared a chilling similarity to Riverdale. Young women, each around the same age as the girl in the photograph, had vanished under mysterious circumstances. In every instance, there were no signs of struggle, no witnesses, and no meaningful leads. The cases had been closed, marked as cold or runaways, but Alex saw something others had missed.
The Hollow Circle’s signature was buried in the details: symbols etched into obscure corners of crime scenes, cryptic notes sent to grieving families, and surveillance footage with inexplicable blind spots. Individually, the cases appeared unrelated, but together they painted a chilling picture of a calculated predator.
One case in particular caught Alex’s eye. Two years ago, a young woman named Lena Harris had disappeared from her apartment in the middle of the night. The investigation yielded nothing, but the case file included a grainy photograph of graffiti scrawled on a nearby wall—a circle bisected by a jagged line.
Alex’s pulse quickened. The symbol was unmistakable.
He jotted down Lena’s details and moved on, searching for connections among the victims. As he worked, a grim pattern emerged. The disappearances occurred roughly six months apart, like clockwork. The timing fit perfectly with the Riverdale victim’s abduction three years earlier.
A new thought struck him like a thunderbolt: if the Hollow Circle had taken Lena two years ago and this girl three years ago, then they had a pattern. Were they planning another abduction soon?
Alex leaned back in his chair, staring at the notes he had scribbled across several sheets of paper. The Hollow Circle wasn’t just taking these girls—they were following a methodical timeline.
He glanced at the photograph of the girl from Riverdale. She was alive, and the Hollow Circle wanted him to know it. But why? What was their endgame?
Before he could dwell on the question, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text from an unknown number.
“Missed something, Detective? Look closer.”
His blood ran cold. The Hollow Circle was watching him. He scanned the room instinctively, searching for signs of surveillance. There was nothing obvious, but he knew better than to dismiss the warning.
Turning back to his notes, Alex reviewed everything with fresh eyes. The victims, the symbols, the six-month intervals—they were all pieces of a larger puzzle. Then it hit him.
The Hollow Circle wasn’t just abducting these girls—they were selecting them. Each victim had a connection to someone in power. Lena Harris was the niece of a prominent judge. Another victim was the daughter of a city councilman. The girl from Riverdale? She was tied to an influential real estate tycoon who had mysteriously dropped out of public view after her disappearance.
This wasn’t random. The Hollow Circle was targeting the powerful through their most vulnerable.
The revelation sent a shiver down Alex’s spine. If he was going to find the missing girl and stop the Hollow Circle, he needed more than circumstantial evidence. He needed answers—and fast.
A name surfaced in his memory: Detective Marcus Reid. Reid had been on the force during the Riverdale case, but unlike Alex, he hadn’t walked away. If anyone could fill in the gaps, it was him.
Alex grabbed his jacket, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place in his mind. The Hollow Circle was playing a dangerous game, and he was finally starting to see their hand.
But as he stepped out into the cold night, a single thought gnawed at him: the closer he got to the truth, the more dangerous this game would become.
The abandoned warehouse loomed like a forgotten sentinel on the edge of the city. Its shattered windows and rust-streaked walls whispered stories of neglect and secrets. Alex Carter had been here before, years ago, during a drug raid that turned up more questions than answers. Now, the building’s shadowed corridors felt different—alive, as if the air itself buzzed with anticipation.
The Hollow Circle symbol had led him here. He had spotted it earlier that day, scrawled in fresh red paint on a dilapidated brick wall near Lena Harris’s last known location. Below the symbol was a single word: Midvale. It was an old district long abandoned by the city’s developers. The message wasn’t subtle.
Alex’s flashlight cut through the darkness as he moved deeper into the structure. The smell of mildew and decay assaulted his senses, but he pressed on, the crunch of broken glass beneath his boots the only sound in the cavernous space.
He followed his instincts, moving toward the center of the building where the floors opened up into a massive, atrium-like space. There, painted on the floor in the same crimson red, was the Hollow Circle symbol. It spanned nearly six feet across, its jagged line slicing through the circle like a wound.
Alex’s chest tightened. This wasn’t a coincidence—it was an invitation.
As he stepped closer, his flashlight beam flickered, then died. He cursed under his breath, tapping the side of the device. It sputtered back to life briefly before plunging him into darkness again.
A sound broke the silence.
It was faint but unmistakable—the scrape of a boot against concrete.
“Who’s there?” Alex called out, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him.
No response.
He scanned the room, his eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the broken windows. A shadow moved in the periphery, quick and fluid. Alex turned sharply, but it was gone.
“Show yourself,” he demanded, stepping toward the edge of the symbol.
The shadow appeared again, this time closer. It resolved into the shape of a hooded figure standing at the far end of the room. The figure’s face was obscured, but their posture was deliberate—calm, almost taunting.
Alex’s hand instinctively moved to the holster at his hip, but it was empty. He had left his gun behind when he turned in his badge, a decision he now regretted.
“What do you want?” he asked, trying to keep the figure engaged.
The hooded figure tilted their head, as if considering the question. Then, without a word, they raised an arm and pointed toward a doorway to Alex’s left.
Alex hesitated. It was a clear message, but walking into an unknown space felt like stepping into a trap. Before he could decide, the figure turned and sprinted into the darkness.
“Hey!” Alex shouted, breaking into a run. He followed the echo of footsteps, weaving through rusted machinery and crumbling walls. The figure was fast, their movements almost inhumanly smooth.
Alex pushed himself harder, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he closed the distance. The figure darted around a corner, and Alex followed, emerging into a narrow hallway.
And then—nothing.
The hallway was empty, silent except for the sound of his own breathing. Alex spun around, searching for any sign of where they had gone. A faint metallic clang drew his attention upward. He looked just in time to see the edge of a trapdoor swing shut in the ceiling above.
Frustrated, Alex stepped back, his mind racing. Whoever the figure was, they had led him here for a reason.
Turning his attention to the doorway the figure had pointed toward earlier, Alex retraced his steps. The door was ajar, revealing a small room that had once been an office. Papers and debris littered the floor, and the faint smell of oil hung in the air.
On the desk, he found a single object: a pocket-sized notebook, its leather cover cracked and worn. He flipped it open, scanning the pages. Most were blank, but a few contained cryptic notes and sketches. The Hollow Circle symbol appeared repeatedly, alongside fragments of phrases like “chosen,” “the ritual,” and “the clock resets.”
But it was the last page that made Alex’s stomach drop.
Scrawled in shaky handwriting were the words: “Midvale was just the beginning. She’s next. Tick tock.”
Beneath the message was a date—tomorrow.
Alex’s grip tightened on the notebook as a surge of urgency gripped him. The Hollow Circle wasn’t just toying with him—they were giving him a deadline.
As he left the warehouse, his mind churned with possibilities. The figure, the symbol, the message—it all pointed to one terrifying conclusion. The girl’s life hung in the balance, and the Hollow Circle wanted him to play their game.
The clock had started ticking, and Alex was running out of time.