Page 69 of Buried in Blood
Because it’s done.
The transition is complete.
And no one stopped me.
Yet.
* **
The crates are still.
The air, not so much.
Sweat clings to my spine as I light a cigarette and watch the old prison fill with motion—controlled, purposeful motion. Enrique drags one crate toward the staging area, boots echoing on the concrete. The sound grates on my nerves. Too loud. Toofinal.
“Open them one at a time,” I snap. “Start with Anya. Tag her first. Then the twins.”
“Yes, sir.”
The girls are unconscious but breathing steadily—perfect sedation. I made sure of it myself.
I move toward the file cart and unlock the drawer. Inside are binders. Names. Photos. Sales profiles. New aliases. Their value is written in ink that smears when it gets too warm. Just like people.
“Clock starts now,” I murmur. “Only four weeks until the first auction.”
Enrique nods and sets to work.
I turn toward Reese.
He’s still got that twitch in his jaw.
Brooke stands beside him, eyes wide, posture uncertain. Her hands tremble—small, fast motions like she’s trying not to scratch at her own skin.
And Harmony?
She won’t meet my gaze.
Good. She’s learning.
“You three—main house,” I say, voice clipped. “Take the east route. I want all of you inside and locked down within ten minutes.”
Reese raises a brow. “You sure you don’t want me here?”
“No,” I answer. “I need you with her.”
His eyes cut toward Harmony.
Then Brooke.
“Both?”
“Brooke doesn’t leave your sight,” I say. “Not for a second. She’s been off.”
“She’s been helpful,” Harmony murmurs.
My head snaps toward her.
“What did you say?”
