Page 30 of Brutal Reign (Bratva Kings #3)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

PAVEL

My eyes burn from staring at spreadsheets, the blue glow of the monitor the only light in my office.

It’s way too fucking early in the morning, but this is what no one tells you about running a criminal empire: seventy-five percent of it is fucking paperwork.

Profit margins, shell companies, shipping manifests disguised as something else entirely.

The unglamorous reality behind the power.

Dawn breaks outside my window. I’ve barely had more than a few hours’ sleep. I’m still wrapping my head around having her here.

Five years of imagining what it would be like to touch her again, to have one more night with her, and now Hope is here, under my roof. As my wife. But everything about this situation is complicated as hell.

Yesterday, watching her face when she saw Kin’s room, there was a moment where her expression softened completely, genuine appreciation flickering in her eyes.

Then I watched her walls slam back up, suspicion replacing wonder as she tried to figure out my angle.

Can’t really blame her for that. After what Simon put her through, she’s learned not to take anyone’s kindness at face value.

The fact that I’m still the enemy in her eyes doesn’t help my case.

“So, how’s married life treating you?”

Dinara strolls into my office without knocking, because she never does.

Her hair’s bright purple this month, one side freshly buzzed, revealing the geometric tattoos crawling up her neck.

Dark circles ring her eyes; she obviously hasn’t been to bed yet, but that’s not unusual.

She keeps vampire hours down in her basement tech cave, living on energy drinks and whatever Yarik forces her to eat.

“I’ve been married less than twenty-four hours, so how about I let you know once we hit the one-week mark.”

Dinara throws herself into the chair across from my desk, with zero ceremony. “Not sure the week mark’s going to make it any better, honestly.”

I lean back in my chair and laugh. “She’ll come around, eventually.”

She taps her chin in mock thoughtfulness. “I wonder how long it usually takes people to accept forced marriage by the guy who helped destroy their father’s empire.”

“Very funny. Don’t quit your day job.” I pause. “And good work on the dinosaur bedroom, by the way. It was a hit.”

“Hell yeah, it was.” Dinara grins, clearly proud of herself.

When I realized we needed a room for a four-year-old who—judging by the constant presence of his stuffed animal—was obsessed with dinosaurs, I had Dinara drag our interior designer to the house and spend every waking second transforming that space.

My only instruction was to create a dino-loving kid’s dream room. Apparently, they nailed it.

I didn’t expect to care whether the kid was happy or not, but seeing the pure joy on his face, the way his eyes lit up at having his own space filled with everything he could want, actually felt pretty good.

“At least the kid’s happy, even if Hope doesn’t share the same enthusiasm.” I lean back in my chair, stretching my shoulders. “Anyway, I called you here for a reason.”

She leans forward, propping her chin on her fist with exaggerated interest. “Not for my helpful relationship advice and sparkling personality?”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that forms. “Always, but this is official business.”

She sighs and settles back in her chair.

Dinara’s like a younger cousin to me. I’ve known her since she was a toddler wandering around her father’s boxing studio, getting underfoot.

Her mother took off when she was young, and Yarik didn’t bother trying to track her down.

The woman was never cut out for motherhood anyway.

So Yarik handled both roles, single father and entrepreneur, running the boxing club while training hopefuls.

Dinara was never interested in the boxing side.

She gravitated toward puzzles, books, and later video games.

When she was twelve, I had a spare laptop sitting around and passed it along to her.

Within days, she’d souped it up with every tech upgrade imaginable.

When I gave her a second monitor and extra hard drive, she came back with a list of offshore bank accounts belonging to every notable politician in the city.

I hadn’t even asked for that, but it was damn useful to know who was taking bribes and from where.

With Yarik’s blessing, I mentored her and put her through the best schools until she was ready to work for us.

Now, she’s our most valuable resource. Young, but the best hacker the Syndicate has ever employed. And truthfully, I’m rather fond of the little brat.

“Alright, what do you need?” She pulls out her laptop and flips it open, fingers already hovering over the keys.

“I need you to find everything you can on Hope from the last five years. Her financials, her digital footprint, any communications you can hack into. I’m convinced Simon forced her into this, but I need proof for the others. Something to actually show them she isn’t a threat living here.”

Dinara leans back in her chair, studying me. “And what makes you so sure she’s innocent?”

“The woman I met in London five years ago wasn’t planning to resurrect a triad; she wanted a normal life. And based on what I witnessed between her and Simon at their wedding, she was terrified of him, not conspiring with him.”

“Any leads on where to start?”

“Do your usual deep dive.” I pause as an idea occurs to me. “Actually, how about we let her point us in the right direction?”

Dinara stops typing, and her eyebrows pull together. “What do you mean?”

“Give her a tablet,” I suggest. “I’ll tell her it’s for shopping, to get whatever she and Kin need.

We’ll put some basic restrictions on it so it looks legitimate, but don’t lock it down completely.

Let’s see who she contacts, what she says.

Mirror the device so you can monitor everything she does in real time. ”

“What if she reaches out to Simon, gives up our location?”

“She knows we’re outside of Moscow, but there’s no way she could pinpoint exactly where.” I wave off her concern. “And if she’s in contact with Simon, their communication could help us find him.”

I clench my back molars together. Simon has been on the run since I blew up his wedding. All available intel suggests he’s gone underground in Hong Kong. We have our best people searching, but so far, we don’t have any solid leads.

She nods, typing away.

I don’t love the idea of spying on Hope, but I don’t see another option. This is for her protection as much as ours.

Dinara finishes typing, shuts her laptop, and rises from her chair. As she heads for the door, she pauses, turning. “What if we find out she was working with Simon willingly? What then?”

I swipe a hand over the back of my neck. “Then I deal with it.”

“I’ll get the tablet prepped and start digging.” She lingers in the doorway like she has more to say.

“Use your words, Dinara,” I say, already turning my attention to the document in front of me.

“Is this some fucked-up Syndicate revenge plan or is this, like, for real with Hope?”

I raise my head slowly. Dinara’s not someone I usually discuss my personal life with, but she knows I was sent to kill Hope in London five years ago and didn’t.

She’s good at reading between the lines.

But I don’t like the idea that anyone, including her, would think this is only some calculated power move.

I drop the pen and rest my head in my hands. “I’d have married her if she was some florist in Idaho. She was always meant to be mine.”

Her eyes widen. “Okayyyy. I did not expect you to say that.”

“One more thing,” I say, holding up a hand. “Can you hack into Kin’s birth records? Figure out who the father is?”

She tilts her head. “You don’t think he’s Simon’s?”

“Hope says he’s not, and Simon was ready to abandon him on the island when we attacked. He wouldn’t if it was his kid.” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “I want to make sure he doesn’t become a problem in the future.”

What I don’t say is that the timing of Kin’s birth nags at me, and there’s something about him that feels familiar.

Hope says he’s not mine, but I can’t shake the possibility.

Not that it would change anything.

But I’m not a man who likes gray. I prefer black and white, and definitive knowing.

She’s quiet for a moment before nodding. “I’m on it.”

After Dinara leaves, I spend another hour looking at financial reports for our legitimate businesses and other shit I missed while I was away. Finally, I sit back and rub my eyes, the lack of sleep catching up with me.

The soft shuffle of footsteps in the hallway pulls me from my thoughts. I tense, reaching instinctively for the gun in my desk drawer, before my brain registers the lightness of those steps. God, my brain is fried.

I rise from my chair and move to the door. When I pull it open, I find Kin standing in the dim corridor, looking lost and impossibly small. His dinosaur—a blue stegosaurus with ridiculous spikes—is clutched under one arm, his other hand rubbing sleepily at his eyes.

“I can’t find Mama,” he says, his voice small and uncertain.

I freeze. What the hell am I supposed to do with a scared kid at the ass crack of dawn? I could wake Hope, have her deal with him, but she’s probably exhausted. Maybe Dinara’s still up.

When his lower lip quivers, something shifts in my chest. It’s a feeling that I don’t have a name for. “I’m sure she’s still sleeping.”

His blue eyes study me with a wariness that reminds me of Hope. “How do you know?”

I lower to his level, keeping my movements slow. From my back pocket, I pull out my phone and tap the screen a few times until the security feed for his room appears.