Drunken Assholes

Liam drove into the penthouse driveway, pulling to a smooth stop. The night was cold, the city lights glowing against the dark sky. Riley, without hesitation, got out and helped her friend—still dressed in the torn, humiliating slave clothes—out of the car. The poor girl stumbled slightly, but Riley held her firm, whispering something to her in a low, reassuring voice.

Alexander stepped out next, his eyes lingering on Riley and her friend. They had just pulled off something dangerous—rescuing a girl from that wretched brothel—and yet, it wasn't enough.

Not until Anna was back where she belonged.

Riley turned to him. "I'm taking her home," she said firmly, adjusting the girl's coat over her frail shoulders. "She needs rest, food, and a real bed, not some cell with chains."

Alexander nodded. He understood. "Be careful," he said, his voice low but filled with meaning.