Page 106 of Buried in Blood

The girl—Brooke—doesn’t look up as she’s escorted from the stage by one of the guards I paid off. I recognize the slight nod he gives. It’s done. We have five minutes.

Five. Maybe six if God’s feeling generous tonight.

I rise from my seat and button my jacket with surgical precision. My boots echo across the polished floor as I step into the aisle. Calm. Silent. Predator posing as prey.

Islip into the rear corridor, following the girl’s handler at a calculated distance. No one stops me. Not yet.

Then I see her.

Brooke.

She’s in front of the south exit, flanked by two guards I don’t recognize. The handler is speaking to them, gesturing toward a waiting black vehicle idling outside. The plan. Stick to the plan.

But something’s wrong.

The guard on the left leans in. He’s frowning.

Don’t fucking question it. Just move.

I close the distance, fast enough to draw attention but not alarm. I flash the ID badge—real name scrubbed, barcode active, Damien’s clearance signature perfectly forged.

“She’s mine,” I say coolly, just loud enough to command.

The handler nods. The suspicious guard doesn’t.

“What’s your verification code?” he asks.

“G7-92-LA. Issued this morning,” I reply without hesitation. It’s a bluff—one I know only three people can confirm.

But two of them are dead.

The guard narrows his eyes.

Then shrugs. “Fine. Take her.”

I almost don’t believe it.

But then he’s stepping aside.

Brooke follows, silent, barefoot on the concrete. Her hair is still curled. Her lips, red. Her eyes flick to mine once—barely a glance—but it’s enough.

She knows she’s not going where she was supposed to.

Good.

We reach the car. The door swings open. I shove her inside, slide in behind her, and shut it fast.

“Drive,” I snap to the man behind the wheel.

Hepeels out of the lot without a word.

We hit the tree line in less than thirty seconds. My heart doesn’t slow. It pounds harder, faster. I yank the blazer off, toss it into the backseat, and lean forward to unlock the glovebox.

Inside: burner phone, cash, adrenaline injector, and a second weapon.

I glance at the side mirror.

No headlights.