Page 84 of Brick's Retribution

I’m supposed to be resting, careful, not doing anything to open my stitches… but I need to get some of this fucking energy out.

Each punch is calculated, precise—the way I need to be when we walk into that auction in six days.

My ribs protest with each hit, but the pain keeps me focused.

"You're dropping your left shoulder," Doom observes from where he's spotting one of the other prospects on the bench press.

I adjust my stance, throwing another combination.

He's right—I'm favoring my injured side without realizing it.

Can't afford tells like that where we're going.

"Better," he grunts. "But you're still?—"

The gym door slams open, and Amara strides in.

The look on her face makes my stomach drop.

"Brick. My office. Now."

I grab a towel, wiping sweat from my face as I follow her out.

She doesn't speak as we walk through the clubhouse, but the tension rolling off her tells me everything I need to know.

Something's happened.

Imani is already in Amara's office when we arrive, still wearing one of my t-shirts she slept in, her hair messy from bed.

The early hour and the fact she hasn’t changed tells me Amara woke her up for this.

I move immediately to Imani's side. "What's wrong?"

Amara closes the door firmly behind us. "We got intel through our network. About Mateo."

Imani's entire body goes rigid. "Is he...?"

"Alive," Amara confirms quickly. "But being held. Diego has him."

The relief that flashes across Imani's face is immediately replaced by fury.

I've seen her angry before, but this is different—this is the rage of a cartel princess who's been betrayed by someone she considered family.

"Where?" Her voice is deadly quiet.

"Unknown. But our sources confirm Diego has seized control of several Torres operations. He's using your father's capture as leverage to legitimize his takeover."

"That fucking bastard," Imani breathes, her hands clenching into fists. "Twenty years. Twenty years of trust, of being part of our family..."

I place a hand on her shoulder, feeling the tremors running through her.

She's holding herself together by sheer will, but I can see the cracks forming.

"There's more," Amara continues. "My uncle Alejandro wants to meet. Today."

That gets my attention.

Alejandro Ramirez—Amara's uncle, Imani's godfather, and one of the most powerful cartel leaders in Mexico.

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