Page 94 of Brick's Retribution

"Most likely," Joaquin confirms grimly. "See how his handler keeps touching his shoulder? Probably reminding him to play along."

"Handler," Brick growls. "You mean Diego."

"No." Joaquin swipes to another image. "Diego runs the operation, but he has men managing your father directly. Keeps his hands clean, maintains deniability."

I stare at the photo of my father—the man who built an empire, who taught me to be strong, who survived countless attempts on his life—reduced to a drugged puppet.

"Can we extract him?" Amara asks.

"Not without risking his life," Joaquin replies. "They're keeping him in a compound outside Juárez. Heavily fortified, constant guard rotation. Any rescue attempt would likely result in his immediate execution."

"So we stick to the plan," I say, though it kills me to leave my father in their hands even one day longer. "We get what we need from the auction."

"The timeline concerns me," Dante speaks up. "Two days until the auction. If Diego suspects anything..."

"He won't," I say firmly. "We've been careful. As far as he knows, I'm still running scared."

But even as I say it, doubt creeps in.

Diego knows me too well, just as he knows my father.

What if he sees through our plan?

The meeting continues with how we’re going to pull this whole thing off—using my godfather’s planes to get to and from Riohacha, Colombia where the auction is taking place.

"I’d like to leave early so we can get an idea of the area," Doom reports. "Get eyes on the property, map escape routes, familiarize ourself with the city."

"Carefully," Amara warns. "If they spot any surveillance..."

"We know our jobs," Brick assures her.

As the meeting breaks up, Joaquin approaches me privately. "Your godfather wanted me to give you this."

He hands me a small velvet box.

Inside is a medallion—St. Christopher, almost identical to the one Diego corrupted with a tracker.

"He said you would understand," Joaquin explains.

Tears prick my eyes as I lift the medallion.

It's not the same as my mother's, could never be, but the gesture means everything.

Alejandro is reminding me that family isn't about blood—it's about who is there for you in a time of need.

"Thank him for me," I manage.

Joaquin nods and takes his leave.

I'm still staring at the medallion when Brick finds me in the hallway.

"You okay?"

"No," I admit. "But I will be. After we end this."

He takes the medallion from my hands, studying it carefully. "No modifications on this one. I checked."

Of course he did.

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