Page 104 of Punish Me, Daddy

We arrived at The Iron Wolf just after midnight.

The streets outside were mostly empty. Inside, the bar was dark except for the back room, the hum of quiet voices behind frosted glass telling me my brothers were already there.

Sloane walked in beside me, her pace controlled, shoulders pulled back, the tension in her spine wound tight. I could feel the energy coming off her in waves, anger laced with anticipation along with a sense of curiosity, but she didn’t speak. She didn’t ask questions.

She just held her head high like she belonged here.

My cock throbbed at the sight.

When I opened the door to the back room, every man in it looked up.

Maxim sat at the head of the table, sleeves rolled up, a tumbler of vodka in front of him and his fingers drumming lightly onthe wood. Ivan stood near the screen in the corner, tablet in one hand, scanning a map lit with red markers. Aleksei was sprawled in one of the chairs with that usual smirk like he already knew something the rest of us didn’t. Sergei stood near the wall, arms crossed, silent but thoughtful as always.

And at the far end of the table, Charlie Kingsley.

He looked up when we walked in, his eyes going straight to Sloane first, searching her face for something I didn’t try to read. Then to me.

He nodded once.

I closed the door behind us.

“Let’s get to it,” I said.

Maxim gestured to the empty seats. “Sit.”

Sloane took the one nearest her father. I took the one beside her, close enough to remind every man in the room who she belonged to.

Ivan didn’t waste time.

“My fighter Mikhail gave us some critical information on this trafficking ring,” he said. “Code names, burner accounts, drop locations. It’s a loose network, half digital, half face-to-face. They use rotating safehouses and third-party drivers to move product—mostly girls. Ages vary, but a disturbing number are flagged underage.”

Charlie rubbed a hand over his face, jaw clenching hard.

“And you’re tying this directly to Stillwell?” Maxim asked.

“Not yet,” Ivan said. “But we’ve got patterns, and we’ve got witness memory. Mikhail recognized Stillwell’s name from a drop run five years ago. That alone wouldn’t hold up, but paired with the new logistics I’ve found? The movement and the timing?”

He looked at Charlie.

“We’ve got a window of time to work with.”

Charlie’s voice was low. “How big?”

Ivan didn’t blink. “Three weeks. Maybe less. He’s trying to bury something though. Fast. A few of the routes have gone dark. Accounts are being scrubbed. Someone told him we’re sniffing.”

“Fuck,” Maxim muttered.

Sloane leaned forward, palms flat on the table. “So we bait him.”

Her father turned sharply. “You arenotgetting anywhere near?—”

“She’s right,” I interrupted, voice firm. “We can use her name, her position. Not as bait, but as leverage. She gets us in the room. The rest, we do in the dark.”

Charlie looked between us. “You’re serious.”

I nodded. “You said it yourself, he’s protected. If we wait, this dies in the shadows. We move now. We hit fast. Hard. Quiet.”

Maxim glanced at Aleksei. “Can you run press intercepts? If this leaks too early?—”

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