Page 91 of Brick's Retribution

The line goes dead, and I lean against the wall, trying to process what I just learned.

Pregnant women.

They're selling pregnant women.

Brick's voice makes me jump. "What did he want?"

He's sitting up in bed, instantly alert despite being asleep moments ago.

"Marcus called with updates about the auction," I say carefully, not sure how to break this to him.

He's already reading my expression, knowing something's wrong. "And?"

I move back to the bed, sitting beside him. "He mentioned... he said some of the women are two-for-one specials."

For a moment, Brick just stares at me, not processing.

Then understanding hits, and his face transforms into something terrifying.

"Pregnant," he says flatly. "He's talking about pregnant women."

"Yes."

The silence stretches between us, heavy and horrible.

Then Brick explodes off the bed, his fist connecting with the wall hard enough to leave a dent in the drywall.

"Those fucking bastards!" He hits the wall again, knuckles splitting. "Selling pregnant women like they're fucking cattle!"

"Brick—"

"What if Lashes is—" He can't finish the sentence, just stands there breathing hard, blood dripping from his knuckles.

I move to him carefully, like approaching a wounded animal. "We don't know that she is."

"We don't know that she isn't," he counters, his voice raw. "Three months she's been gone. Three months they've had her."

Three months is plenty of time for horrors we don't want to imagine.

"Come here," I say softly, guiding him to sit on the bed. "Let me look at your hand."

He follows numbly, the rage draining into something worse—despair.

I retrieve the first aid kit from his bag, carefully cleaning his knuckles.

"If she's pregnant," he says quietly, "if they did that to her..."

"Then we get her out and we get her help," I say firmly. "Whatever she needs, whatever it takes to help her heal."

"What if she doesn't want to come back?" The question is barely a whisper. "What if she's so broken she doesn't even remember us?"

I frame his face with my hands, forcing him to meet my eyes. "Then we remind her who she is. We show her she's still loved, still family. We don't give up on her, we stand there by her side, no matter what she needs. It doesn’t matter if she’s going to scream, cry, or punch a wall like someone else I know. We’ll be there for her."

He pulls me into his arms, holding me so tight it's almost painful.

I can feel him trembling, this strong man shaking with rage and fear for his friend.

"I'm going to kill them," he says against my hair. "Every last one of these sick fucks."

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