Page 103 of Brick's Retribution

Imani provides the banking codes without hesitation.

Alejandro's money, funding this rescue disguised as a purchase.

"Excellent. Your merchandise will be prepared for transfer. Approximately thirty minutes."

Thirty minutes.

I force myself to remain still, professional, while inside I'm screaming.

The thirty minutes while we wait crawls by.

Finally, our "purchases" are brought out.

The two teenage sisters cling to each other, terrified.

The two women Imani bought are in their twenties, drugged but mobile.

And Lashes.

Up close, I can see what three and a half months have done to her.

She's thinner even though she’s pregnant, bruises in various stages visible on her arms.

But her eyes—those fighter's eyes—still have spark in them.

Imani commands coldly, still playing the part. "Load them up."

Our vehicles pull up—large SUVs with Alejandro's drivers.

The women are herded in like cargo, handlers ensuring they're "secure" for transport.

I want to say something to Lashes, anything, but I can't.

Not here, not with guards watching.

"Pleasure doing business," the loading supervisor says. "Enjoy your purchases."

I've never wanted to kill someone more in my life.

We get in our vehicles, Imani and I in the lead SUV with the two girls and one of the women.

Lashes is in the second vehicle with Doom—he'll keep her safe.

"Drive," Imani orders once the doors close. "Now."

The convoy pulls away from the estate, moving at a steady pace that won't attract attention.

Every instinct screams at me to floor it, to get as far from that hellhole as possible.

But we maintain the illusion—just another buyer leaving with their merchandise.

"How long until we're clear?" I ask the driver—one of Alejandro's men.

"Ten minutes to the intercept point," he replies. "Extraction team is ready."

Ten minutes.

After three months, we're ten minutes from getting Lashes truly safe.

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