Page 65 of Brick's Retribution

"He makes me feel..." I start, then stop, struggling to find the right words. "Different. Like I'm more than just Mateo Torres' daughter. Like I'm worth something beyond my name and connections."

"You've always been worth more than that," Amara says gently. "But I'm glad you're finally seeing it."

"Are you?" I ask, meeting her eyes. "Because getting involved with him complicates everything. The club, the alliance between our families, my father's expectations."

Amara is quiet for a long moment, studying me, "Your father's expectations have been running your life for too long, girl. Maybe it's time you started living for yourself."

The words hit harder than they should, probably because they're true.

I've spent so many years trying to be the perfect daughter, the perfect heir, the perfect representative of the Torres name.

But with Brick, I'm just Imani.

Not a cartel princess or a Harvard graduate or a valuable political asset.

Just a woman falling for a man who sees her for who shereallyis.

"It scares me," I admit quietly. "How much I want this. Want him."

"Good," Amara replies with a slight smile. "The best things in life should scare you a little. Otherwise, they're not worth having."

Before I can respond, she's moving to the computer setup in the corner of her office. "Come on. Let's take a look at those files you mentioned. If we're going to figure out who's behind this trafficking operation, we need all the intel we can get."

I follow her over, pulling up the secure server where I've stored months of research.

The financial data fills the screen—bank transfers, shell companies, shipping manifests, property records.

What started as a simple investigation into money laundering has revealed something much more sinister.

"Jesus," Amara breathes, scanning the information. "That’s a lot."

"And it's just the tip of the iceberg," I reply, pulling up additional files. "Look at these shipping routes. They're using legitimate businesses to move merchandise across international borders. Import/export companies, art dealers, even charitable organizations."

Amara's expression grows darker as she processes the scope of the operation. "High-end human trafficking with global reach. This isn't some backwater cartel operation."

"No, it's not." I point to a series of financial transfers. "These payments—they're going to shell companies in Prague, Dubai, Singapore. Places where wealthy buyers can bid on 'special merchandise' without too many questions being asked."

"Auctions," Amara says grimly.

"Exclusive ones. The kind where you need connections and serious money just to get an invitation." I pause, a light bulb coming on in my head. "The kind where someone with my background and resources would be welcomed with open arms."

Amara turns to look at me, understanding immediately where I'm going with this. "You want to infiltrate them."

"I think I can," I say, my voice gaining confidence. "Mateo Torres' daughter, looking to diversify the family business into new ventures. I have the connections, the financial backing, the reputation. They'd see me as a potential high-value client."

"It's insane," Amara says, but I can see her mind working through the possibilities. "Dangerous as hell. If they made you as a threat instead of a customer..."

"Then I'd be in the same position I'm in now," I point out. "Except this way, we might actually be able to find Lashes too, and shut down their operation."

Amara is quiet for a long moment, "We'd need to plan this out the right way. I’d want intel on their security protocols, backup plans, extraction strategies for when shit hits the fan, because nothing ever goes according to plan."

"All things the club specializes in," I reply. "And with my father's resources..."

"Speaking of your father," Amara interrupts, "any word on his condition? The reports we're getting are conflicting."

The question hits hard.

In all the chaos of the past few days, I've been trying not to think about what might be happening to my father.

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