Page 15 of Brutal Reign (Bratva Kings #3)

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

HOPE

“The knight can’t keep losing every battle,” I protest, holding up the mangled plastic figure that’s seen better days. “This is the third time your T-Rex has made him into dinner!”

Kin’s laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep in his chest; the sound makes my heart squeeze. “But, Mama, T-Rex is super hungry. He can’t help it.”

We’re camped out on my son’s bedroom floor, a fortress of pillows and blankets surrounding us, toys strewn everywhere like the aftermath of an epic battle.

I should be tucking him into bed by now, but I missed spending time with him today because Simon dragged me to another meeting with new supporters.

It was all smiles, handshakes, and pretending to be the devoted fiancée.

Being with Kin is the only time I feel truly myself. Truly happy.

I brush a strand of his dark hair off his forehead, then let my fingers trail down his cheek, marveling at the softness of his skin.

At four years old, Kin is already clever beyond his years.

Sweet, too, but with a mischievous streak that keeps me on my toes.

He asks big questions—about stars and whales and where thunder comes from—but still dissolves into giggles when I do silly voices during our games.

He looks so much like me: the straight dark hair, the shape of his face, his nose. Everything except for his eyes. They’re bright blue and intense, unlike anything from my family line.

Physically, there’s little of Lukas in him, but I sense he might have inherited some of his father’s personality.

I wish I could have known Lukas better, to understand what kind of man he was beyond our one night.

What would he think of the incredible little boy we made? I know I’ll never get the answer.

Eventually, I manage to corral the toy chaos and settle Kin into bed with a final story. Before lights out, he flashes those baby blues at me, complete with an exaggerated puppy dog expression.

“Mama?” he whispers.

“Yes, love?”

His face takes on that serious look he gets when he’s plotting something. “I’m really, really hungry.”

I raise a brow. “Impossible. Mei said you ate a mountain of noodles at dinner.” His nanny, Mei, even sent me a picture of his impressive meal.

He nods solemnly. “I think I grew again. I need a snack.”

I stifle a laugh. For all I know, that might be true. I remember when this little schemer could sleep curled up on my chest like a kitten. Now, he’s all elbows and knees, and endless questions about why the world works the way it does.

They say nothing prepares you for motherhood, and in my case, it was doubly true.

I had no roadmap, no mother’s wisdom to guide me through the sleepless nights and constant worry.

But somehow, against all odds, I figured it out.

Kin came into my world and changed my life for the better. I have him, if nothing else.

He’s still looking at me hopefully for that snack. I really should say no—it’s already past his bedtime—but I’m a sucker when he bats his eyes at me.

“Something small,” I agree.

I pause at the door, peeking toward Simon’s wing of the penthouse. He’s rarely home, which is the one saving grace of this arrangement.

With a conspiratorial smile, I turn to Kin. “Alright. The coast is clear, but we have to be extra quiet,” I say because he loves the idea of making a game out of it, pretending we’re on a secret mission.

He puts a finger to his lips as we tiptoe down the carpeted hallway. Kin clutches his stuffed dino under his arms, his small hand in mine.

When we reach the kitchen, he darts ahead, tugging open the fridge to survey his options. He stands on tiptoes and grabs a yogurt cup, then glances over his shoulder with a small grin. “Mama, we need two yogurts because I don’t want to share.”

I shake my head, biting back a smile. “It’s okay. I don’t need a snack.”

“Yes, you do,” he says with authority.

We sit at the island, side by side, as he swings his legs from the stool, happily spooning yogurt into his mouth.

“Mama?”

“Mmm?”

“Why doesn’t Simon like me?”

I freeze with the spoon halfway to my lips and set it down with care. “What makes you say that?”

“He never talks to me or smiles at me. He only ever tells me to be quiet.” His tone isn’t accusing, just curious.

My stomach twists. Four-year-olds are brutally honest. They call it like they see it, and in this case, Kin sees it clearly.

Simon barely tolerates his presence, speaking in cold, clipped tones when he bothers to address him at all.

Kin doesn’t outwardly flinch or protest, but I notice the way his shoulders draw in when Simon enters the room, the way he seems to fade into the background.

It hurts to watch, and it’s one of the reasons I make sure to keep them apart as much as I can.

The truth is a lot darker. Simon views Kin as a threat. As my child, he has a legitimate claim to the King family empire, and that makes Simon uneasy. He views Kin as competition.

But I can’t tell Kin any of that. Not now, maybe not ever.

“He’s busy, sweetheart. He works a lot, and he’s stressed out.”

The wedding—the event I’ve managed to postpone for years through a mix of negotiation and manipulation— is next week.

I convinced Simon that rushing into marriage would look desperate, that we should wait until the Black Company was strong enough for our union to make a real statement of power.

He agreed because it played to his ego, his vision of himself as a strategic mastermind.

But if all goes according to my plan, this marriage will never happen. My twenty-fifth birthday is a week before the wedding, and that’s when I’ll finally have access to my inheritance, thanks to Uncle Chen.

My father purposefully kept Chen out of triad business so he wouldn’t be involved in any bloody fallout. I guess that was a good idea, because now he’s around to help me.

It took me a while to hear from him, since I only had an old email address he rarely checked. My anxiety grew as time passed with no reply. Then, a month ago, he finally responded.

Even though years have passed, it’s been so nice to connect with him. He’s the closest thing to family I have left.

When I was little, I spent countless hours at his house, playing with his two girls, sleeping over, and eating candy he snuck me.

Along with my father, he held my hand at my mother’s funeral and helped me through the worst days.

Even after I moved abroad and only saw him during my brief visits home, he held a special place in my heart.

Uncle Chen has managed to set up an encrypted messaging program for us to communicate through. Since we’ve been in touch, I’ve opened up to him, sharing how Simon forced me into this engagement, how he trapped and manipulated me, and how desperate I am to give Kin a normal life.

Helping me is dangerous, especially if Simon were to ever find out. He’d kill me, Kin, Chen, anyone involved, especially if he discovered I was planning to run.

Chen is making all the arrangements with the bank. He says the paperwork is underway and that the money should be available in my account a few days after my birthday. It’s only a few days before the wedding, but what choice do I have?

I’ve started planning our new life, right down to where we’ll live. I’ve found the perfect place: Akaroa, a little town on the South Island of New Zealand.

It’s quiet and out of the way, but has everything Kin and I would need for a fresh start.

I’ve gone down too many rabbit holes looking at photos of pretty cottages with gardens, beaches where Kin could actually run and play.

Maybe he’ll meet kids his age he could finally call friends.

All the things he’ll never get in Simon’s cold penthouse.

“And Simon never wants to play dinosaurs,” Kin continues, as if that’s the worst offense he can think of.

I stroke his hair, my chest tightening for him. “That’s the way some grownups are. It’s not your fault, it’s his. He’s forgotten how to have fun.”

Kin looks unconvinced. “Yeah, but he’s going to be my daddy soon.”

Not if I can help it.

But four-year-olds aren’t known for keeping secrets, so I keep this plan to myself.

He takes another spoonful of yogurt, then looks up at me. “Will I ever meet my real daddy?”

The question catches me off guard. He doesn’t ask about his biological father often, but with the wedding looming, his little mind must be trying to make sense of everything.

I swallow hard. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I really hope you can one day.”

It’s not entirely a lie. I’ve told Kin his father lives far away and we lost touch, which is true enough. But it’s a story that won’t satisfy him forever. Someday, he’ll want more details, and I’m not sure what I’ll tell him.

“What was he like?”

I smile, but it’s tight at the edges. I wish I had more to tell him than the little I know. “He was kind. Smart. He made me laugh when I didn’t think I could. And he had a gentle voice, even though he was really big and strong.”

Kin tilts his head. “Like me?”

My laugh catches in my throat. “Yeah. Just like you.”

I’ve thought about contacting Lukas a few times over the years, but what would I say? “Surprise, you have a son. A beautiful, brilliant boy that you can’t meet. At least, not anytime soon.”

How would I even explain my dumpster fire of a life? That I’m a figurehead in a criminal empire that I want nothing to do with? That I’m engaged to a man I fear?

None of this is an option. So instead, I love Kin fiercely and do my best.

“You look sad,” Kin says, licking the back of the spoon clean.

I shake my head, realizing I’ve been staring into space. “I’m not sad,” I promise, brushing his hair back gently. “I was stuck in my own head. Sorry.” I give him a reassuring smile. “Now you, sir, need to get to bed. It’s way past your bedtime.”

He makes a face. “Sleep is boring.”