Page 5 of Brutal Reign

We move silently through the halls of the villa, the fighting downstairs masking any hint of our approach. Maxim takes point, Roman close behind, and I cover our rear as we advance toward Lai King’s office. Everything is going according to plan. His guards are occupied, his men scattered. We have him cornered.

We clear the staircase, our footsteps barely audible over the distant violence. We’re a well-oiled machine, a brotherhood forged in fire, bonded by loyalty. Tonight, it’s Lai King who’ll learn what happens when you fuck with us.

Roman signals, and we move forward again. We’re halfway down the hallway when pain explodes through my side. It’s sharp, searing, and unexpected.

“Fuck!” The curse tears from my throat as I stumble sideways, warmth seeping through my tactical gear. Myweapon is aimed at the attacker, finger on the trigger, but I freeze when I come face to face with the person who stabbed me.

It’s a woman. A young woman.

She’s trembling, dark hair spilling around her shoulders. Her eyes, wide and glassy with tears, stare at me in raw terror. The knife shakes in her grasp, but it's not the weapon that stops me. Something about her is achingly familiar, a flash of the helpless girl I couldn’t save.

For a split second, I see my sister.

The illusion breaks as I register Maxim moving beside me, his weapon aimed at her chest.

“Don’t shoot!” The command rips from my throat.

Maxim and Roman stare at me like I’ve lost my mind. So does she.

And maybe I have, but all I know is I can’t stand by and watch her die right in front of me.

Go,I mouth to her.

She stares at me for another heartbeat, confusion and panic in her gaze. Then she’s gone, racing down the darkened hallway, away from us.

Roman crouches beside me, assessing my injury. “Can you move?”

I nod, breathing heavily. My side feels like fire, a sharp contrast to the slow, warm seep of blood. “Yeah. She got me good, though.”

“You know who that was?”

“No fucking idea,” I say grimly. But I know what I saw in her eyes. It’s the same broken devastation that’s been eating me alive for years.

Roman looks up at Maxim. “Go. Get King. I’ll patch Pavel up and meet you in the office.”

As Maxim moves on, Roman pulls out a field dressing and presses it hard against the wound. “You’re fucking bleeding everywhere.”

I let my head thump back against the wall, breath hissing out through my teeth. I’m used to pain; it’s nothing new. But everything else that happened is. The hesitation. The urge to protect her. It rattles me more than being stabbed ever could.

As if he can read my thoughts, Roman tilts his head, watching me carefully. “Why did you let her go?”

I grimace but don’t let any other emotion show. “You’d rather I killed her? An innocent woman?”

Roman lets out a short laugh. “Innocent? She stabbed you.” He pulls a flask from his inner jacket, offering it to me for the pain. “It was too dark to get a good look at her, but it could’ve been Lai King’s daughter.”

“Maybe.” I take a sip, letting the burn of whiskey chase the tension in my gut. “Could have also been a maid, someone in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He doesn’t look convinced. Maybe because it was the first time I chose mercy over duty.

While the wound has healed, other parts of that night remain branded in my memory. I’ve taken many lives, but she’s the first one I saved.

There’s a strange satisfaction in the fact that I didn’t add her name to my list. Maybe it proves there’s still a line I won’t cross. Although I have a sinking feeling, whatever comes next is going to test that belief.

“Hope King is a loose end.” Maxim doesn’t say the words, but his expression makes the meaning clear. “You need to finish the job.”

My collar suddenly feels too tight. I tug it and lean against the window frame. “What do we know about her?”

Maxim pulls out another file, flipping it open. “She’s twenty years old, a first-year history and literature student at Cambridge until she went into hiding with her father. Her mother, who was British, met Lai King at Oxford, fell in love, and moved to Hong Kong for him. She was killed by his enemies when Hope was eight, which is when King sent her to the UK. She was raised in elite boarding schools, occasionally visiting her father during summer holidays, but he kept her as far from the triad world as possible.”