Page 38 of Brutal Reign

I think of the birth control pills hidden in my vitamin bottle. I’ve been taking them in secret, knowing this day would come, when he’d try to take what he wants from me.

“And now you’re going to stop being such a prude and let me fuck a legitimate child into you.”

He punctuates his crude words with a forward thrust, his erection pressing against me.

Rage flares hot in my chest, burning through the fear. I wrench one arm free and rake my nails across his cheek. “Kin is legitimate. He’s my son!”

“He’s a bastard. What else would you call a child whose father fucked you and dumped you?” He leans closer, his breath hot against my ear as he palms my breast hard over my dress. “But don’t worry. Once you give me sons, we can discuss what to do with your little mistake.”

The threat against Kin unleashes something feral in me. I plant both hands against his chest and shove with every ounce of strength I possess. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He staggers back, touching the scratches on his cheek. “You fucking bitch.”

I sit up and meet his furious stare. “Are you really going to hurt me before our wedding night and risk me showing up bruised? Try to force me. Let’s see how that plays with your precious allies who think you’re some kind of gentleman.”

We lock eyes, and I watch him calculate the risks. He could overpower me; we both know it. But the wedding is too crucial,his carefully crafted image too important to risk visible marks that might raise questions.

“Our wedding night.” He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing everything back into place. “But after that, the games end. You’ll be my wife in every sense of the word, and I’ll take whatever I want, whenever I want. You’ll learn what it really means to belong to me.” He moves toward the door, then turns back with that cold smile that never reaches his eyes. “Sweet dreams, Hope.”

The door slams behind him, and I collapse back onto the bed, my whole body shaking. I can still feel him everywhere, the phantom weight of his touch burning on my skin.

And the worst part is that in a few days, I’ll be his wife, and there will be no refusing him.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

PAVEL

Roman’s fistcrashes into the prisoner’s jaw with a wet crack, sending blood spraying across the concrete. The soldier takes the hit and spits out a tooth, glaring at us with the kind of stubborn defiance that gets people killed.

“Let’s try this again,” I say, circling behind his chair. “Who’s running the Black Company now?”

“Go fuck yourself,” he manages through a split lip.

Roman cracks his neck. “Wrong answer,” he says, before driving his knuckles into the man’s stomach.

This piece of shit we’re interrogating helped abduct Sofiya Zhukova, Roman’s sister-in-law. We’ve spent the last eighteen hours working alongside her husband, Nikolai Zhukov—head of the Zhukov Bratva and our ally in St. Petersburg—to get her back.

She’s safe at home now, and we managed to capture one of the bastards involved in her abduction. He’s a Zhukov Bratva soldier who not only betrayed Nikolai, but also helped kidnap his wife.

This asshole is a dead man, but we won’t finish him until we learn what we need to.

So far, what we’ve discovered is chilling. The Black Company—a triad we buried five years ago—has somehow risen from the dead and is now working with a powerful Russian politician to destroy the Syndicate.

Taking Sofiya was part of their plan, but they failed.

And we’re not leaving this room until we find out who’s the new leader of the Black Company.

Given that we eliminated Lai King and his entire leadership structure, the candidate pool is fucking small. Except for one possibility that makes my blood turn to ice.

Hope King.

The woman I spared for a second time. Whom I let walk away without a tracker under her skin.

I’ve maintained iron discipline where she’s concerned. I haven’t searched for her, haven’t tracked her movements, haven’t even allowed myself the weakness of staring at her picture late at night, when the loneliness gets too heavy.

It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped thinking of her. I’ve spent years trying to outrun the ghost of her. The way she melted under my touch. The way she shared parts of her real self, and allowed me to get close. The way she came all over my dick.