Max's POV
The plan worked perfectly. Our elaborate charade had played out exactly as intended. Swift's manufactured fury, my possessive display, Clyde's heartbroken performance, Elliott's calculated provocation. Every piece fell into place like dominoes. The brothel owner swallowed our bait whole, selecting Jasmin from behind her trembling veil. He thought he'd discovered the ideal prize.
The moment that spotlight shifted to her, we became ghosts. Invisible. Forgotten. Finally inside the Thornwick Brothel's walls.
Now the real hunt could begin. While Jasmin played her dangerous role, Clyde, Elliott and I could move through this cesspit undetected. We weren't just racing to find Mariyah anymore. We were racing against time itself. And time was already slipping through our fingers like sand.
We pushed deeper into the brothel's corridors, leaving that suffocating room behind.
"We split up here," I commanded, my voice cutting through the ambient noise.
