Page 92 of Brick's Retribution

"We'll stop them," I promise. "We'll save Lashes and the others. All of them."

I hold him for a long time, just wanting him to know I’m here to support him.

Finally, Brick pulls back and he runs his hand over his face. "We need to tell Amara. If they're trafficking pregnant women, we need Ruby to add prenatal supplies to the medical kit."

There he is, always thinking ahead, even if he’s furious.

It's one of the things I love about him—his ability to tamper his emotions and get action done.

We quickly get dressed and head downstairs, finding Amara already in her office, which is surprising since it’s early.

She takes one look at Brick's bandaged knuckles and raises an eyebrow. "Wall lose a fight?"

"Marcus called," I explain. "The auction will include pregnant women. He called them two-for-one specials."

Amara's expression goes deadly still. "Pregnant."

"Yeah," Brick confirms harshly. "Those motherfuckers are selling pregnant women."

"Ruby," Amara calls out, and the other woman appears moments later. "We need to add prenatal supplies to the medical kit. Vitamins, emergency delivery supplies, anything you can think of."

Ruby's face pales, but she nods firmly. "I'll handle it right after I finish whipping up breakfast for everyone. Lyra and Leo are both in a mood this morning. Anything else you need from me?"

Amara shakes her head, “No, but thank you. Go feed those kids. The last thing we need is a mini Zorro running around pissed off. Is Rex being the only patient one?”

Ruby smirks. “Surprisingly, yes.”

Amara cracks up. “God, never thought I’d see the day Axel’s boy behaves better than him, but here we are.”

With that, Ruby leaves and Amara turns her attention back to us. “Is there anything else new?”

"Marcus also warned about their security changing up," I add. "Said there have been disruptions in the market recently."

"Good," Amara says with a sharp smile. "Let them be paranoid. Scared people make mistakes. Thanks for the update. I have some things I need to handle, so see yourselves out."

I don’t think she means to sound cold, but she is coming across that way a little bit.

Over the next couple of hours, Brick and I keep busy.

Brick throws himself into training, familiarizing himself with the ceramic knives until he can draw and strike in one fluid motion.

I watch him from across the gym, watching his technique, making mental notes for myself in case the situation arises where I need to know how to use them.

The knowledge about the pregnant women has changed something in him, turning his protective instincts into something darker.

"You two need to rein in your emotions, girl," Doom notes, appearing beside me. "Both of you. Need to lock that shit down before the auction."

He's right.

We can't afford to show emotion when we're undercover.

"Want to help?" I ask.

"That's why I'm here." He moves to the center of the mat. "Both of you. Time to practice your poker faces."

The next hour is brutal.

Doom throws scenario after scenario at us—describing horrific situations we might encounter, testing our ability to remain composed.

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