Page 27 of Brutal Reign (Bratva Kings #3)
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
PAVEL
The plane’s cabin is dim, the lights low, a quiet hum filling the space. Roman pours us both a drink; we need one after the last twelve hours. He hasn’t said much since we boarded, only watched me, eyebrows raised in silent interrogation.
Hope’s curled up, sleeping on the cream-colored couch toward the rear of the cabin, her son tucked protectively against her side. Seeing her like this, soft and maternal, all her defensive edges smoothed by sleep, tugs at my chest.
The moment I found out she had a kid, everything about this situation became more complicated. It’s not only about protecting Hope anymore; it’s about protecting someone completely innocent who got dragged into this war through no fault of their own.
Across the aisle, Roman hands me a glass and lowers himself into his seat. “So. Married, huh? Should I be offended that I didn’t get an invite?”
I grunt noncommittally, welcoming the familiar burn of vodka as it slides down my throat. It seems appropriate for a day when I’ve detonated my carefully ordered existence. “Nah, it was rather… spontaneous.”
Roman snorts. “So what’s the plan? She’s going to live with you at the compound?”
“That’s generally how marriage works.”
“When it’s voluntary, sure.” He adjusts his position. “I’m guessing she wasn’t exactly a willing bride. And now you’re bringing her and the kid back to live with all of us. Do you realize the danger you’re putting everyone in?”
The compound isn’t only my home; it’s where we all live, where his pregnant wife sleeps, where Maxim’s three kids run around. Hope is an unknown variable, the daughter of our enemy, with every reason to hate us.
Maybe I hadn’t considered all the implications when I slipped that ribbon around her finger. The same ribbon I noticed she’s torn off. Something I plan to remedy very soon.
“I’ll make sure she stays on my property and keep a close eye on her,” I vow, meeting his gaze. “But in return, I need your word that you’ll leave her alone. No interrogation.”
Roman’s mouth tightens, but he knows the score. Bratva code makes wives and children untouchable. Even if they’re the enemy’s daughter.
Roman laughs, a harsh, humorless sound that scrapes at my nerves. “What makes you so sure she’s not a threat to us?”
“Instinct. She’s afraid of Simon. I saw it at the altar when she stood across from him.
You can’t fake that kind of fear.” Fear I didn’t see when I forced her in front of the priest. She had no trouble showing her fire then.
That told me all I needed to know. “Simon was ready to blow her brains out, because she wouldn’t escape with him.
He was going to force her to abandon her kid. Not exactly a loving partnership.”
Roman shrugs. “Doesn’t prove anything. She could know things, could have been involved in his plans. You don’t really know where her loyalties lie, but it’s sure as hell not with you or us.”
“Maybe not, but I’ll prove to you and Maxim that it’s not with Simon either.”
Maxim and Kira are traveling for another week. It’ll give me time to find evidence that proves she wasn’t behind the Black Company reforming and Sofiya’s abduction.
Roman stays quiet, staring out the plane’s window into the darkness. I know I’m putting him in a shitty position, asking him to trust me based on gut instinct alone. But I’ll make it right.
He takes a slow sip of the drink in his hand. “Any chance the kid’s yours?”
I stretch my neck from side to side. It’s the question I’ve been trying not to think about. Four years old would put his conception right around the time we slept together.
“We were careful.”
He scoffs. “Plenty of ‘but we were careful’ babies running around.”
“Hope says Kin’s not mine, or Simon’s for that matter. He doesn’t even look like me.” I take another swig, letting the burn distract me from the uncomfortable possibility that he could be.
Still, Kin looks like his mother. Same straight black hair, same high cheekbones and delicate mouth. Except for those eyes—clear and bright blue, almost electric.
“He’s about the right age, though,” Roman persists, doubt written all over his face. It fucking annoys me.
“Drop it,” I snap. “Whoever the bio father is, he’s out of the picture now.”
The thought of some faceless stranger touching Hope, getting her pregnant, then disappearing makes my fists itch. I shouldn’t care who came after me, but I do. Probably because there was no one else after her for me.
Roman swirls his drink, ice clinking against crystal. “If you say so. But it doesn’t change the fact that you married her, which makes the kid your responsibility.”
I blow out a heavy breath and scrub a hand over my face. “He has his mother. He doesn’t need me.”
Maxim has been changed for the better by being a father. But that doesn’t mean it’s for everyone. And it’s sure as fuck not for me.
I failed as a brother. Why would I be any better as a father?
“Look, I know you think I’m being reckless?—”
“Reckless? No, more like completely insane.” Roman points an accusing finger at me. “You’re pussy blind when it comes to her. My only advice is to lock your door at night. She stabbed you once, and I have a feeling she’d do it again if given the opportunity.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Pussy blind’s not a thing.”
“Please. You don’t decide what to eat for lunch without weighing the costs and benefits. Every move you make is calculated. Risk versus reward. That’s how you’ve always been. Until her.” He nods toward Hope.
I toss back the last of the clear liquid, hoping it quiets the noise inside my head. Bringing Hope home with me. Making her my wife. Taking responsibility for her son. None of it was in my plans when I woke up yesterday.
But watching her now—the gentle rise and fall of her chest, her lashes fluttering in sleep—I can’t bring myself to regret it.