Page 153 of Brutal Crown

The sun pours through the tall windows of my bedroom, casting streaks of gold across the marble floor. Outside, the estate grounds stretch on. The green leaves of the trees sway lightly in the soft morning wind. The air carries a chill, thanks to the heavy rain that bathed the earth overnight. It feels symbolic, like all our painful pasts have been washed away.

It is a new dawn, a different world from the one I stood in last night.

The Reckoning is over.

A soft snore from my side draws my attention to her. I can’t resist the smile that spreads out on my lips as I take her in.

She’s sleeping on her side, one hand curled beneath her cheek, the other resting gently over her belly.

The morning sunlight spills across the sheets in soft gold, the sheets that have fallen to her waist now, revealing her soft, supple skin. Her lashes cast faint shadows against her cheeks. Her dark chestnut hair fans out across the pillow, wild and dark, the same way it looked last night when I tangled my hands through it and told her she was mine.

She is.

More than I ever wanted anyone to be.

I reach out and let my fingers graze her hip, just lightly. Her chest rises and falls with slow, steady breaths. Peaceful. Safe. I let my eyes fall on her pink nipples, and I look away before I start to get aroused.

I already am.

God. She’s so beautiful.

I press a kiss to her bare shoulder before slipping quietly out of bed. I put on some clothes without making a sound, careful not to wake her. She’s earned this rest. We both have.

Before I leave the room, I glance back once. I still can’t believe my luck. I can’t believe the nights of hiding, finding ourselves in the darkness, and making love in secret are all over.

I step into the hallway with a silly smile on my face.

The halls of the estate stretch long and golden in the quiet morning hush.

I walk down the staircase, the sun glinting off the wrought-iron railing. The air smells fresh, a mixture of citrus, lavender, and a distinct smell of the early-blooming roses from the south wing gardens. As I step further down, my nostrils catch another smell—the aroma of freshly baked bread.

I step into the kitchen, and the maids present all look shocked to see me. Greetings rush out of their lips. I respond, but they keep their heads bowed until I grab a cup and a bottle and pour myself a glass of chilled water.

With the glass in hand, I step out of the kitchen and into one of the side parlors, the cold biting against my throat as I take a gulp. I walk to the nearest window and pull it open just enough to let the morning breeze in. It carries the sounds of life. The chirping of birds, the rustle of leaves…

This is what peace sounds like.

My fingers rest lightly against the glass, watching the quiet stir of life below. Some staff are resetting the courtyard. A few gardeners are pruning the flowers. From the kitchen, I can hear the faint clatter of breakfast being prepared.

The house feels lighter.Alive.

For the first time in years, I feel… whole.

No ghosts clawing at my throat. No lies in trying to hide. No desires beyond my reach.

I have everything I could possibly want.

Behind me, I hear heavy footsteps approaching me.

My father.

“Morning, Keeper.” I hear the smirk in his voice.

I glance over my shoulder to look at him. He’s freshly dressed in a navy suit, the Romano crest pinned to his lapel. His hair is slicked back. There’s no trace of fatigue on his face.

“You look like you got some good night’s sleep,” I muse.

“I did, and it was the first time in a while I didn’t dream about taking out my enemies.”