Page 122 of Blackwood

Knox reaches for a USB drive and sticks it into a tablet. “We were hoping he’d be here tonight but that’s not the case. Zeke was also pretty sure that Krolek is the one who supplied the kids for Carlos’s house.”

On screen, Laing’s got his arm around Bella and squeezes her tight. He leans in, whispers something in her ear, and she fake-laughs like it’s some romcom bullshit.

A door opens and five little kids are led out, tiny and scared. All of them have to be under ten. The smallest one’s holding a stuffed rabbit with one missing ear.

My stomach fucking knots. I don’t know if it’s the kids. Or Bella playing house with a Triad boss. Or both.

Knox’s voice cuts through it. “Okay, Laing. We have a visual on the kids. Now ease him into it. Get him to put the kids back inside, I don’t want them anywhere near the crossfire.”

Laing starts some slow, sleazy sales pitch by talking numbers, rotation, discretion. I tune it out. I’m watching Bella.Every blink. Every shift of her weight. Every time she glances at the kids like she’s about to snap someone’s spine.

The muscle gets the kids back into the room. Knox leans forward. “Problem Child, you’re up.”

Bella’s voice goes syrup-sweet. “Oh, honey! This is perfect, thank you!” She squeals, tugging Laing down into a kiss.

What the actual fuck is this girl doing? Signing Laing’s death certificate is what it looks like.

Laing groans against her lips as she adds, “Ooh, but can we keep that little one? I like her. She’ll be perfect for our home in Paris.”

Jesus fucking Christ this is making my skin crawl, but damn if it isn’t slick as hell.

I don’t hear the shot. But I see it. The seller drops and hits the ground like a sack of bricks. Bella and Laing move in sync, guns already drawn, turning them on the guards without missing a beat.

Knox grins, flicking a switch. “Showtime.”

Bella’s voice cuts through the feed, no longer playing housewife. It’s cold. Lethal. Fucking divine. “You two. Drop your guns and kick them over.”

The guards freeze for half a breath, just long enough to consider testing her. Then they wise up and do exactly what she says. Smart moves.

She glances at Laing, eyes sharp. “Honey,” she says mockingly, “tie them up.”

Laing flashes a wicked grin and does what he’s told, zip-tying both men with practiced efficiency.

Bella lowers her gun. “Nate. Knox. Get in here. Let’s get these kids out. We need to have a chat with our little friends here.”

“I’m coming,” I say sharply.

“Nope. She’ll rip my balls out and gift wrap ’em for Haley’s Christmas present if I let you in there. I’m talking ribbon, bow, and a glittery tag that says‘Thanks, bitch.’”

“Good for Haley,” I growl. “But I’d like to see you try and stop me.”

Nate doesn’t even look up. “It’s fine. Let him go, Knox. I’ll handle Bella.”

Knox raises a brow. “You sure?”

Nate gives a slow nod.

We fire up the van and creep down the road, white chat crunching under the tires as the building fades behind us. The second we stop, all three of us pile out.

Bella’s already moving. Calm, fast, and completely in control. She’s guiding the kids toward safety like she’s done this a hundred times. And maybe she has. But I’ve never seen anything like it. Watching her save them—actually save them—it’s the best goddamn thing I’ve ever seen. Just pure instinct. All heart. All fire.

She’s carrying the smallest one, a little girl can’t be more than four. She’s clinging to Bella’s shoulder like she’s found her forever safe place. And fuck me if that doesn’t twist something brutal and permanent in my chest.

Bella crosses to us, steps right up to Nate, doesn’t even glance at me. “How far out are the medics?” Right on cue, the sirens whine down the block and a rig screeches around the corner, lights blazing.

“Right now,” Nate says with a short laugh.

Bella dips her head toward the little girl, “Okay sweetie. Let’s get you checked out, yeah?”