Page 112 of Brick's Retribution

Valeria is getting medical care.

Lashes is home.

It's not everything, but it's something.

"We should get some sleep," Brick says eventually. "Tomorrow's going to be complicated."

"When isn't it?" I ask, but I let him pull me to my feet.

As we head inside, my phone buzzes with a message from one of Alejandro's contacts:

Diego making moves. Consolidating power. Your father is still alive but drugged constantly. I will let you know more when I can.

I show Brick the message, watching his expression grow harder.

"Soon," he promises. "We'll get him back soon."

"I know," I say, though patience has never been my strong suit.

We pass by the room where Xiomara and Itzel are staying one more time.

Through the cracked door, I can see them curled together in one bed despite having two—safety found only in each other's arms.

The yarn they were weaving lies on the nightstand, a small splash of color in their new life.

"They'll be okay," Brick says softly. "Kids are resilient."

"They shouldn't have to be," I reply.

"No," he agrees. "They shouldn't."

But they are, and we'll make sure they never have to be that strong again.

Tomorrow we'll deal with bounties, threats, and planning our next move against the trafficking ring.

Tomorrow we'll work on getting my father back and making Diego pay for everything he’s done.

Tomorrow Valeria will have her surgery and begin healing, Mei will start the process of transferring schools, refusing to let her captors steal her dreams, Xiomara and Itzel will wake up in a home where they're wanted, protected, loved.

But tonight, five women sleep safely under the protection of the Reapers Rejects MC.

As we finally make our way to bed, exhausted as all hell, I touch the St. Christopher medallion at my throat—Alejandro's replacement for the one Diego corrupted.

My mother wanted our family to be legitimate, to leave the violence behind.

Maybe this is how I honor that dream—by using our resources to save others, to destroy the worst parts of this life.

"What are you thinking?" Brick asks, reading my expression.

"That my mother would have been proud of what we did today," I admit.

"She would have been proud of you every day," he corrects. "But yeah, especially today."

I kiss him softly, grateful for this man who sees me not as the cartel princess, or the Harvard graduate, or the target with a bounty on her head, but just as Imani.

Tomorrow the war continues.

But tonight, we've won a battle.

---