Page 117 of Brick's Retribution

Back at the clubhouse, the ladies are preparing for dinner.

It's become a tradition—Sunday dinners with the whole family.

Xiomara is in the kitchen with Kelsey, learning to cook while Itzel sits at the counter drawing.

"Brick!" Xiomara calls out. "Look what Itzel made for you!"

The little girl shyly hands me a drawing—stick figures but clearly recognizable as our club family.

I'm there (identifiable because I’m huge), along with Imani, Lashes, and others.

In the corner, she's drawn two angel figures that must be her parents.

"This is beautiful," I tell her. "Can I keep it?"

She nods, a tiny smile crossing her face.

"Use your words, baby," Kelsey encourages gently.

"Yes," Itzel whispers. "For you."

It's only the fifth or sixth time she's spoken since we rescued her, and each word feels like a victory.

Dinner is chaotic in the best way possible.

The long table is packed—club members, their families, our rescued women who've become family.

Mei and Nova sit together, already talking like old friends.

I notice Doom positioned where he can see Nova, though he's trying to be subtle about it.

"So, what's the deal with the trafficking ring?" Lashes asks during a lull in conversation. "They've been quiet for a month. That can't be good."

Amara nods. "Too quiet. Our intel suggests they're regrouping, possibly bringing in new leadership to replace what we disrupted."

"They'll come for us eventually and I mean in a way that’s more than just putting a bounty on my head," Imani says matter-of-factly. "We cost them money and reputation."

"Let them come," Boulder says. "We'll be ready."

But I can see the worry in her eyes.

It's not the trafficking ring that keeps her up at night—it's her father, still captive, still being drugged by Diego.

Life has been really heavy lately, but we’re surviving, getting through it one day at a time.

After dinner, I find myself on the roof again, but this time I'm not alone.

I've brought one of the letters from my father—still sealed after fifteen years.

Imani takes a seat beside me. "You sure about this?"

"Seeing those girls with Boulder and Kelsey, watching them heal... it made me think about family. About forgiveness."

She takes my hand. "Whatever it says, I'm here."

I open the envelope carefully, unfolding paper that's yellowed with age.

Son,

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