Page 44 of Brutal Reign
The door closes behind him, and I barely make it to the bathroom before retching into the pristine toilet—my body rejecting everything as violently as my mind rejects what’s coming.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
PAVEL
The helicopter cutslow over the sea, blades flashing against the pale blue sky as the island comes into view, a mansion carved into the cliffs like a fortress. It’s a good venue if you’re trying to impress. It’s a bad one if you’ve made enemies like us.
Roman sits beside me, Nikolai and Vadim behind us, all of us dressed in pressed suits like any other wedding guest. The only thing that sets us apart is the Kevlar beneath our jackets and the knives strapped to our ankles.
Bringing pistols through the metal detectors would’ve been suicide, but the knives Niko sourced are made from a high-strength polymer blend that passes through scanners undetected.
Eva is offsite, manning a drone overhead for a bird’s-eye view. She’ll provide essential intel through the comms unit discreetly tucked in our ears.
The pilot flips the switch on the radio. “This is Redwing-7 requesting permission to land. Passengers are Baranov and associates from the Polish Federation. Security clearance confirmed.”
A lie, of course. We’re impersonating Baranov and his men, who are currently tied up in a hotel room. We hacked their facial recognition profiles and uploaded our faces to replace theirs in the security system.
The helipad comes into view, tucked neatly on the far side of the island behind a wall of manicured hedges. From this height, I can make out two guards pacing near the service path. Two more are posted beyond the dock, the bulge of guns evident under their suit jackets.
I give a subtle nod to Nikolai, who raises his eyebrows in acknowledgment. He and Vadim will take out the perimeter guards, jam the comms, and disable the communication tower near the kitchen wing. Roman will set off the explosives and then herd the guests off the island toward a waiting ferry. Everyone here is highly connected—politicians, business associates, organized crime leaders. We’re not looking to make new enemies; we’ve got plenty already.
My job is to capture the lovely bride and her new husband, and take them back with us for questioning. Heat coils under my collar, pressure that hasn’t let up since I learned of Hope’s impending marriage. She might be standing on the wrong side of enemy lines, but five years later, she’s still burned into my brain like a brand I can’t escape.
The rotors slow as we land, and the second the helicopter touches down, we’re out the doors. Two guards at the edge of the helipad glance up, hands near their jackets, but they relax the moment they see the guest tags clipped to our lapels.
I wait until the helicopter is outbound to approach the guards and ask, “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a smoke?”
The guards exchange a look, probably wondering if they’re allowed to engage with a guest.
That flicker of hesitation is all I need. My blade slides between the first guard’s ribs before he can react, while my otherhand clamps over his mouth. The second guard reaches for his weapon, but Roman appears behind him, snapping his neck with a sharp twist.
We carefully lower their bodies to the ground to avoid drawing unwanted attention. I signal Niko and Vadim to drag them out of sight. They’ll stay by the docks and eliminate the rest of the guards.
On my signal, Roman slips away, moving into position to prepare the blast meant to stop the ceremony and send the guests scrambling. We need them out of the way for what we have planned.
I straighten my suit and follow the designated path toward the mansion, where the ceremony is already underway.
I slip through a side entrance that opens into a narrow hallway leading to the ceremonial hall. Just as I approach the main doors, two guards step into my path.
“Sir, the ceremony has started. You can’t be here.”
I offer a polite smile. “Of course. My apologies.”
The moment they relax, I strike. My blade slips cleanly between the first guard’s ribs as I grab the second by the throat, crushing his windpipe with my bare hands.
So far, today has been a lot more fun than I expected. But we’re just getting to the good part.
I crouch beside their fallen forms to check for weapons, but neither man is packing heat. Maybe Simon thought it would be tacky for armed guards to patrol his wedding. His mistake.
As soon as I drag the bodies into a back hallway, I wipe my hands, pat down my hair, and retrace my steps toward the ceremony hall.
A live string quartet plays something traditional and elegant. It’s exactly what you’d expect for a wedding of this caliber. As soon as I enter the hall, a staff member motions for me to take a seat in the back row, whispering something about not disturbingthe others, but I couldn’t care less. Soon, everyone here will be very, very disturbed.
I walk straight down the center of the aisle. A hush falls as I pass, row after row of finely dressed guests turning to stare. A few murmurs ripple through the crowd, likely wondering who I am and why I have the audacity to stroll down the aisle mid-ceremony. I don’t look anywhere but straight ahead. My gaze is locked on the altar, where Hope stands beneath an arch dripping with white orchids and ivory silk.
Fuck. The first look at her in five years knocks the air out of my lungs.
