Page 8 of Brutal Reign (Bratva Kings #3)

She drags her soapy hands in slow circles over her arms and across her chest, building a lather that leaves her skin slick and gleaming.

When she lifts her leg to wash her calf, I get another flash of her pussy.

From here, I see a dark triangle blurred by steam, but I know that if I were closer, I’d see her all pink and swollen, begging to be tasted.

Fuck me. There’s no way I’m leaving now.

My self-control snaps. I reach down, unzipping my pants and fisting my cock without shame as I stare, needing release like I need air.

In the corner of the closet sits a laundry hamper. I dig through until I find what I’m looking for—a pair of her underwear, plain pink cotton, but the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I bring them to my face, inhaling the raw, intoxicating scent of her.

Now that I’ve decided not to kill her, lust floods my veins. I’m not thinking about what I’ll tell my brothers or what comes next. All I can think about is how fucking much I want to join her in that shower.

She turns, water running in rivulets over her stomach and breasts, her hands sliding over her skin. My jaw clenches. I’d give anything to suck her tits into my mouth, biting enough to make her gasp, to make her tremble until she breaks for me.

My hand moves faster, stroking my length with her panties tight in my grip, as I imagine myself behind her under that hot water.

She’s so much smaller than me; I could pick her up and pin her to the wall, her slick legs wrapped around my waist. She’d be so fucking tight I’d have to work myself inside, fighting not to lose control.

“Such a good fucking girl,” I’d whisper, my hand locked around her throat, her eyes meeting mine as I claimed her for myself.

Jesus fucking Christ , I mutter, watching her soap every inch while humming to herself like there isn’t a wolf watching her from the shadows. She has no clue she’s stoking this hunger, that every move is an invitation.

She’s lit a fire in me I never thought possible.

I come hard, a thick stream of cum painting her panties. My heart hammers, my cock still twitching as I watch her for a few more seconds. Then, careful to stay silent, I slip from the bedroom, her soiled underwear shoved in my pocket, the memory of her naked and wet forever burned into my brain.

There’s a chill in the air that clings to the back of my neck like guilt. I’ve been walking since I left her building, aimless as a fucking ghost, trying to clear my head and failing miserably. The city’s gone quiet, but my mind hasn’t, stuck on the inevitable truth.

I’m not killing Hope King.

In fact, no one is killing her.

I drop onto a bench facing the water, elbows on my knees.

Hope is the only thing I ever walked away from without leaving blood behind.

She’s the one piece of my past I didn’t fuck up.

I couldn’t protect Kamilla, but I protected her.

I allowed her to live, and no matter which way I look at it, she doesn’t deserve to die.

We’ve stolen her life, but I have no intention of taking her pulse too.

I pull out my phone and dial.

Roman answers on the third ring, voice thick with sleep. “What the fuck? You couldn’t have waited until the sun was up here?”

“Good morning to you, sunshine,” I say, because needling Roman is one of the few things in life that give me joy. “Miss me yet?”

“Swear to God, unless you’re bleeding out in some ditch, hang the fuck up and call me back in two hours becau?—”

“You’re going to want to hear this.”

He pauses. At least that gets his attention.

Roman growls on the other end. There’s a rustle, and I hear him whisper, “It’s okay, milaya . Go back to sleep. I’ll be a minute.”

He’s talking to Liza Ivanova, his fiancée, probably why he’s not happy with my very early morning phone call. He was enjoying time in bed with the woman he loves. Well, too bad. This can’t wait.

A minute later, Roman’s irritated voice bleeds through the line. “Nice of you to call, finally, even if your timing sucks. Please tell me Hope King is dealt with.”

“That depends on your definition of ‘dealt with’.”

An aggravated groan comes over the line. “I think you know my definition, mudak .”

I rub a hand over my jaw, feel the stubble rasp against my palm. “I’m not killing her.”

Silence. “What are you talking about?”

“She’s not a threat to the Syndicate. I’ve had eyes on her day and night for two weeks.

I’ve combed through her apartment and went through every fucking drawer.

Our hackers found no trace of her online presence.

She’s broke, stuck in a dead-end job, and living like a ghost.” The wind cuts across the river and into my bones, the blast of cold helping me wake up.

“If she had contact with any Black Company loyalists, I’d know. ”

Roman exhales slowly, clearly holding back his frustration. “Fine, maybe she’s not a threat right now. But that could change. She’ll get older, toughen up, and decide she wants payback. It’s a risk we can’t take.”

“That’s a real fucking leap, and you know it.

She was raised in boarding schools. She went to Cambridge, for fuck’s sake.

She was never part of her father’s world, wasn’t raised to take over.

With all Lai King’s senior men dead, rebuilding the triad from scratch would be next to impossible, even for someone with his blood. ”

His voice lowers an octave. “I know how you feel about killing women, and I get it. Why don’t you come home, put her out of your head, and I’ll send someone else to do the job.”

Heat floods my veins the second the words leave his mouth. “No fucking way.”

He goes quiet for a second, then exhales. “So, what, are you suggesting? We let Lai King’s daughter walk free?”

I watch the dark water lap against the concrete edge. I need to throw him a bone and prove that I haven’t totally lost it.

“We’re going to keep tabs on her,” I explain. “I’ll inject her with a tracker. She won’t even know it’s there, and we get a living breadcrumb. Wherever she goes, we’ll know.”

“And how the fuck do you plan on doing that?”

“Leave the how up to me.”

A weary sigh escapes him. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”

The corners of my mouth twitch upward. “I’ve talked you into way crazier shit before. Trust me, this is one of my better ideas.”

He groans. “Not sure if Maxim will agree, but if it means you’ll get home sooner, I’ll live with it. I’m sick of running this fucking Syndicate on my own.”

“Untwist your panties. I’ll be home in a few days.”

He grunts his goodbye, and the line goes dead.

I sit there for a long while, the sun glinting off the river in thin golden streaks as the city slowly wakes up. It should be enough to know that she’ll get to live, move on with her life, however small her life is. But it’s not enough.

The need to see her again presses into my ribs. Just once more. One more time to breathe the same air, to hear her laugh, to see her eyes light up because she thinks I’m someone else. Someone I could never be.

After that, I’ll walk away and never look back.

This final time will have to be enough, even if I already know it won’t be.