CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Imani
The private jet touches down at the airstrip outside Chihuahua just as the sun begins to set, painting the sky in shades of amber and red
Through the window, I can see vehicles waiting—medical vans, SUVs with blacked-out windows, a whole team ready to receive six traumatized women who've just been pulled from hell.
I glance across the cabin at our rescued women.
The sisters—Xiomara and Itzel—haven't let go of each other since we loaded them onto the plane.
Xiomara's arms wrap protectively around her younger sister, whispering constantly in Spanish even though Itzel hasn't responded with a single word.
Mei sits rigidly upright, switching between Mandarin, English, and Spanish in a stressed stream of consciousness that no one can fully follow.
Valeria clutches her stomach, rocking slightly, lost in some private grief I can't begin to understand.
And Lashes—she stares at Brick across the cabin like he might disappear if she looks away for even a second.
"Let's move," Brick announces as the plane comes to a complete stop. "Medical team boards first, then we transfer to the vehicles."
The next twenty minutes are chaotic as all hell.
Ruby comes onto the plane with other people, immediately triaging the women.
When they try to examine Itzel, she clings tighter to Xiomara, a terrified whimper escaping—the first sound we've heard from her.
"No separate," Xiomara says firmly in broken English, her young voice carrying surprising authority. "We stay together. Always together."
Ruby nods, adapting immediately. "Of course, sweetheart. You can stay with your sister for everything. We'll examine you both together, okay?"
The tenderness in Ruby's voice shows how delicate she’s going to be with these kids.
Even she's affected by it.
I help guide Mei toward the exit, but she grabs my arm with surprising strength.
"My family," she says in English, then switches to Mandarin before landing on Spanish. " Necesito ... I need to call them. They think I'm dead. My mother... she must be..."
Her voice breaks, and I see tears streaming down her face.
"Soon," I promise gently, squeezing her hand. "We need to make sure you're safe first. Make sure no one can track the call. But I promise, within the hour, you'll hear your mother's voice."
She nods, but I can see the desperation in her eyes.
For two months her family has likely believed she was dead.
And I’ll help her navigate those feelings.
The ride to the clubhouse is intense.
I'm in the lead vehicle with Brick, Xiomara, and Itzel.
The little girl hasn't released her death grip on her sister, but her dark eyes track everything—every turn, every sound, every movement.
"It's okay," Xiomara whispers to her in Spanish. "These are good people. They saved us. Remember? The pretty lady who bought us? She saved us from the bad men."
Itzel's eyes flick to me, and I try to give her a reassuring smile.
"You're safe now," I tell her in Spanish. "Both of you. No one will separate you again."
When we pull through the clubhouse gates, I'm surprised to see what looks like half the charter waiting in the courtyard.
Word travels fast with the club, and the ol’ ladies have banded together to make sure everyone is taken care of.
"Jesus," Brick mutters. "Looks like the whole family turned out."
Tables have been set up with food, water, and basic supplies.
Kelsey stands with a stack of blankets, Astra beside her with what looks like bags of clothes.
Even some of the kids are there, held back by their parents but watching with curious eyes.
"Let's get them inside," Ruby instructs, but her voice is gentle. "They need medical examinations first, then we can worry about everything else. Kelsey, can you bring some of those blankets? The plane's air conditioning had them all freezing."
But as we help the women from the vehicles, Valeria suddenly doubles over with a cry of pain.
Ruby's at her side immediately, her experienced hands checking for obvious injuries. "What's wrong? Where does it hurt?"
Valeria's response is barely audible, but I catch it: " El bebé... perdí el bebé hace semanas. Duele ... it hurts."
The baby. She lost the baby weeks ago.
Ruby's expression shifts to one of profound sadness as she and another medic carefully guide Valeria inside. "We'll take care of you, honey. We'll make the pain stop."
A miscarriage—another layer of trauma these monsters inflicted.
And she's been carrying that pain, that loss, without any medical care for weeks.
Everyone gets inside and they’re all seen by the medics, and even a doctor Alejandro arranged to be here waiting at the clubhouse.
It feels like the medical examinations take hours.
I pace the common room, getting updates as they come while trying to coordinate with Amara on any immediate needs.
Boulder's wife, Kelsey, has taken charge of organizing the clothes and toiletries, while Astra cooks some food that won't overwhelm their stomachs.
"The young one still hasn't spoken?" Astra asks quietly, joining me by the window.
"Not a word. Her sister says she hasn't talked since..."
"Since she watched her parents die," Astra finishes. "God. Those poor babies."
Through the window, I can see more club members arriving.
This is what they do—circle the wagons when family is threatened.
And somehow, these five strangers have already become family.
Ruby emerges with more updates about everyone.
Xiomara has bruises consistent with restraint, malnutrition, dehydration, but no serious physical injuries.
Itzel is the same, though her continued silence worries everyone.
Mei has defensive wounds on her arms, signs of fighting back repeatedly.
Valeria's miscarriage appears to have happened three weeks ago, untreated and causing ongoing complications that will require surgery, and a load of antibiotics.
And Lashes—beyond the pregnancy and expected injuries, she's asking for Brick constantly.
I know she’s his best friend, but it does make me feel a little bit weird.
Then again, she’s been through some major trauma. If there had been something going on between the two of them, I think I would know by now.
"Go," I tell him when Ruby passes along the message for the third time. "She needs to see you."
He hesitates, conflict clear in his eyes. "You sure? I should stay with you?—"
"She's your best friend," I remind him. "She's been through hell and she needs her family. Go."
After he leaves, I focus on what I can control—logistics.
These women need documentation, safe housing, therapy, medical care, and in some cases, entire new lives.
"The sisters," Kelsey says, approaching with a gentle expression and two cups of tea. "Ruby says they have no family to contact?"
I accept the tea gratefully. "Their parents were killed six weeks ago. They watched it happen. They have no one—no grandparents, no aunts or uncles."
"They have us now," she says firmly, without even a moment's hesitation. "The club has plenty of spare rooms. We have one set up with two twin beds. They could stay in that one until we can find a more permanent accommodation, if anyone here adopts them, stuff like that. Those girls can stay with us until... well, until forever if needed. Maybe Boulder would be open to it."
This is what the club does—takes in strays, protects the vulnerable, becomes family for those who have none.
"That's... Kelsey, that's a huge commitment."
"So?" She shrugs. "We've been talking about kids anyway. Maybe this is how our family is meant to grow. Besides, you think anyone in this club would let those girls go into the system? Not a chance. It’s shit in America, so I can only imagine how it is here."
An hour later, Brick emerges from the medical room looking shaken.
His face is pale, jaw clenched tight with emotion.
He finds me immediately, pulling me into a quiet corner away from the bustling activity.
"How is she?" I ask.
"Broken," he says simply, his voice rough. "But fighting. She... God, Imani. The things they did to her. And she's pregnant from it."
"Does she want to...?"
"Keep it?" He runs a hand over his head. "She doesn't know. Says she can't think about it yet. But she asked about Sally Bernard, wanted to know if we'd dealt with her yet."
Sally Bernard—the woman who orchestrated Lashes's kidnapping, who sold her to these monsters.
"What did you tell her?"
"The truth. That Sally's been handled but the organization she sold Lashes to is still operational." His jaw tightens. "She wants to help take them down. Said she memorized faces, names, details that might help. She made it her mission while she was in there—if she survived, she'd destroy them."
"She's barely been rescued twelve hours?—"
"I know," he interrupts. "But that's Lashes. She processes trauma by fighting back. Always has."
Before I can respond, Amara appears in the doorway. "Meeting. My office. Five minutes. Bring whoever needs to be there."
The office is crowded—Amara, Dante, Boulder, Doom, Brick, and myself.
Maps cover every surface, laptops open with reports.
The weight of what needs to be decided hangs heavy in the air.
"First things first," Amara begins, her president voice in full effect. "The women. What do they need immediately?"
I pull out the tablet where I've been making notes. "Xiomara and Itzel have no family. They'll need placement, therapy, and eventual documentation to stay in Mexico. They're Guatemalan citizens, but going back there is a death sentence. They’ll just end up in a similar situation."
"Kelsey and I will take them," Boulder says immediately. "Already cleared it with her. We've got the room here in the club, and Kelsey's got experience with traumatized kids given how she grew up. We’ll look at the house across the street that’s for sale, see how big it is."
"Mei wants to continue her education," I continue, scrolling through my notes. "She was studying at UNAM in Mexico City, but she's afraid to go back there. She asked about transferring to the university here in Chihuahua. She's determined not to let them take her future too."
"We can arrange protection," Doom offers, his gravelly voice thoughtful. "Set her up in a secure apartment near campus, have some of us check on her regularly. Make sure she can finish what she started."
"She'll need therapy too," I add. "She's holding it together, but barely."
"They all will," Amara notes. "I'll reach out to the trauma specialist we've used before."
"Valeria needs immediate medical treatment for complications from her miscarriage, then safe passage to Texas. Her husband is in Houston, working construction. She hasn't seen him in five months."
"I know people who can help with that," Dante speaks up. "Clean papers, safe crossing, the works. We can have her in Houston within the week."
"And Lashes?" Amara asks, turning to Brick.
"Medical care for the pregnancy, trauma therapy, and time," Brick answers, each word coming out slower than the last. "She's... processing. But she wants to help take down the trafficking ring. Says she won't rest until every person involved is dead or in prison."
"Of course she does," Amara mutters. "What about security? These women are witnesses. The ring won't just let them disappear."
"About that." Miguel enters without knocking, his expression grim. "Just got word from our contacts. The trafficking ring has put out bounties. They know Lashes was part of the club and you went in to save her. Your bounty is half-a million dollars, fifty thousand for any of the rescued merchandise returned."
"Merchandise," I spit, rage flooding through me. "They're still calling them that."
"To them, that's all they ever were," Miguel replies matter-of-factly. "The point is, none of you are safe. They're mobilizing resources to get their 'property' back. And they're pissed about the money they lost."
Brick growls, danger radiating from every line of his body. "Let them try."
"They will," Amara says flatly. "Which is why we need to be smart. These women need new identities, especially Mei and Valeria if they're leaving our direct protection."
"I can handle that," I offer. "I know people who specialize in making people disappear. Good people, not connected to any cartel business."
"Do it," Amara approves. "What else?"
The meeting continues for another hour, hammering out details.
Safe house options, or if they should stay here in the club.
We talk about how we’ll handle security, backup plans if anything doesn’t go according to plan, contingency arrangements.
Every detail matters when lives hang in the balance.
Finally, Amara dismisses us with orders to get some rest.
But I can't sleep, not yet.
There's too much to do, too many lives depending on us getting this right.
I make my way through the clubhouse, checking on each woman.
Mei is in one of the spare rooms, talking rapidly on a secure phone—finally able to tell her family she's alive.
I pause outside her door, listening to the mix of Mandarin and sobbing.
The joy and grief in her voice as she speaks to her mother breaks my heart.
Two months of believing their daughter was dead, gone without a trace.
"She wants to fly here," Mei tells me when she finally hangs up, her face streaked with tears. "My mother wants to come immediately."
"That might not be safe?—"
"I know," she interrupts. "I told her to wait. But hearing her voice..." Fresh tears fall. "I thought I'd never hear her voice again."
I sit beside her, letting her cry against my shoulder.
This young woman who fought her captors, who stayed strong through months of hell, is finally able to release the grief she's been carrying.
Valeria is with Ruby, getting the medical treatment she should have received weeks ago.
Through the partially open door, I can see her on an IV drip, antibiotics and pain medication finally flowing through her system.
The doctor my godfather sent is nearby, explaining in Spanish what the procedure is going to entail and that he normally wouldn’t do it in a setting like this, but she’s gone through enough trauma already.
She's crying, but it seems cathartic—finally able to grieve her loss properly with medical support.
"She'll need surgery." Ruby comes over to me, slipping into the hallway. "The miscarriage was incomplete. She's been in agony for weeks."
"When?"
"Tomorrow morning. He wants to give her the night to rest and some time for the antibiotics to get into her system."
Lashes is sleeping, sedated according to the nurse watching over her.
Even in sleep, her hand rests protectively over her belly.
The bruises on her face are already yellowing, but I know the internal wounds will take much longer to heal.
But it's the sisters I find myself drawn to last.
Kelsey has set them up in what will be their room—twin beds with colorful quilts, soft lighting, a closet already filling with donated clothes from club families.
Someone has even put up posters of butterflies and flowers, trying to make it feel less institutional.
To my surprise, Xiomara is sitting on the floor with Itzel, and between them is a small pile of yarn that someone—probably Astra—must have provided.
Xiomara's fingers move with ease, showing Itzel how to loop and twist the bright threads.
"Our mama taught us," Xiomara says softly when she notices me watching from the doorway. "She said weaving connects us to our ancestors, to our strength. That every thread is a prayer, a memory, a hope."
Itzel doesn't speak, but her fingers follow her sister's movements, creating a simple braid of red and gold.
"Your parents would be proud," I tell them, entering the room slowly so as not to startle them. "You survived. You protected each other."
"They died because they wouldn't pay the bad men," Xiomara says matter-of-factly, her young voice carrying weight beyond her years. "Papa said paying them would be wrong. That it would make us part of the evil. Mama agreed. She said standing for what's right is worth any price."
"Your parents were brave," I say, my throat tight. "And so are you. Both of you."
For the first time, Itzel looks directly at me.
She doesn't speak, but she holds up the small braid she's created—an offer, a gift.
The gesture is so small, so huge.
I take it carefully, this small token of trust from a child who has every reason never to trust again.
"Thank you," I whisper. "It's beautiful. I'll treasure it."
Xiomara translates my words into K'iche', their indigenous language, and I see something shift in Itzel's eyes.
Not quite hope, but maybe the possibility of it.
I find Brick on the roof—his favorite thinking spot.
He's staring out at the city lights, shoulders tense with the weight of everything.
"How are they?" he asks without turning.
"Surviving," I reply, settling beside him. "Xiomara's teaching Itzel to weave. Mei finally got to call her family. Valeria's getting proper medical care. Surgery tomorrow."
"And we saved five," he says quietly. "Out of how many that were sold today?"
It's the same question that's been haunting me.
"We saved five," I repeat firmly. "And tomorrow we'll work on saving more. That's all we can do. One life at a time. One operation at a time."
He pulls me against his side, and I breathe in his manly scent.
"Alejandro's people sent word," he says after a moment. "Diego's moved your father. New location, better fortified."
My stomach drops. "Where?"
"They're working on it. But..." He hesitates.
"What?"
"You know the trafficking ring put those bounties out. "
"Yeah, I heard. I'm flattered they think I'm worth so much."
He doesn't laugh at my weak joke. "This is serious, Imani. They want you dead or returned to them for auction."
"Then we'd better take them down first," I say simply.
"It's not that simple?—"
"Yes, it is." I turn to face him fully. "We saved five women today. Six. And there are hundreds, maybe thousands more out there. Women like Lashes, like those little girls who watched their parents die. You think I can just walk away knowing that?"
"I know, but?—"
"No buts," I interrupt. "We have names now. Faces. Lashes said she memorized details. Mei heard conversations. We have intel. We'd be fools not to use it."
He's quiet for a long moment. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"Could you? If it were you?"
"No," he admits. "But that doesn't mean I have to like you putting yourself at risk."
"I'm already at risk," I remind him. "We all are. At least this way, we're taking the fight to them instead of waiting for them to come for us."
He sighs, pulling me closer. "When did you become the warrior and I become the worrier?"
"When you fell in love with me," I say simply.
"Yeah," he agrees. "That'll do it."
We sit in silence, the weight of the day settling over us.
Five women have been saved, but there’s so much more work to do.
My father is still captive, Diego is still out there, and an entire trafficking network still operational.
But tonight, Xiomara and Itzel are safe in a warm bed.
Mei got to hear her mother's voice.
Valeria is getting medical care.
Lashes is home.
It's not everything, but it's something.
"We should get some sleep," Brick says eventually. "Tomorrow's going to be complicated."
"When isn't it?" I ask, but I let him pull me to my feet.
As we head inside, my phone buzzes with a message from one of Alejandro's contacts:
Diego making moves. Consolidating power. Your father is still alive but drugged constantly. I will let you know more when I can.
I show Brick the message, watching his expression grow harder.
"Soon," he promises. "We'll get him back soon."
"I know," I say, though patience has never been my strong suit.
We pass by the room where Xiomara and Itzel are staying one more time.
Through the cracked door, I can see them curled together in one bed despite having two—safety found only in each other's arms.
The yarn they were weaving lies on the nightstand, a small splash of color in their new life.
"They'll be okay," Brick says softly. "Kids are resilient."
"They shouldn't have to be," I reply.
"No," he agrees. "They shouldn't."
But they are, and we'll make sure they never have to be that strong again.
Tomorrow we'll deal with bounties, threats, and planning our next move against the trafficking ring.
Tomorrow we'll work on getting my father back and making Diego pay for everything he’s done.
Tomorrow Valeria will have her surgery and begin healing, Mei will start the process of transferring schools, refusing to let her captors steal her dreams, Xiomara and Itzel will wake up in a home where they're wanted, protected, loved.
But tonight, five women sleep safely under the protection of the Reapers Rejects MC.
As we finally make our way to bed, exhausted as all hell, I touch the St. Christopher medallion at my throat—Alejandro's replacement for the one Diego corrupted.
My mother wanted our family to be legitimate, to leave the violence behind.
Maybe this is how I honor that dream—by using our resources to save others, to destroy the worst parts of this life.
"What are you thinking?" Brick asks, reading my expression.
"That my mother would have been proud of what we did today," I admit.
"She would have been proud of you every day," he corrects. "But yeah, especially today."
I kiss him softly, grateful for this man who sees me not as the cartel princess, or the Harvard graduate, or the target with a bounty on her head, but just as Imani.
Tomorrow the war continues.
But tonight, we've won a battle.
In this life, you take your victories where you can find them.