Page 127 of Brutal Reign
Dinara is last on comms. “Good to go from mission control.”
“Copy that.” Roman’s hand hovers over the door handle as he looks at me and then Hope. “Showtime.”
“Let’s do it,” Hope says, and that steel in her declaration makes my pulse kick. She’s about to put herself on the line with the kind of courage that would make my soldiers envious.
Roman steps out first, doing a quick scan of the crowd of hopefuls waiting behind the ropes to get in. I step out next, then extend my hand to help Hope from the vehicle.
Hope takes my arm with practiced ease, her smile radiant as she takes her place by my side. She’s wearing a black silk dress that drapes over the thin body armor beneath. The neckline showcases her throat and collarbones, while the slit up her left thigh gives her easy access to the knife strapped to her inner leg.
Roman leads our small procession toward the entrance. Hope is between us, my hand resting on the small of her back as we pass a few photographers covering society news.
“Smile, angel moy,” I murmur against her ear as we pause for a few photographs. “You look like a queen.”
And fuck me, she does. Despite the fear, Hope King carries herself like the royalty she is.
A guard opens the doors to the main entrance for us. The interior is all black marble and chrome, with LED lighting that shifts from deep purple to electric blue as the bass line demands. The main floor spreads out to one side in a carefully orchestrated chaos of beautiful people moving to the music like they own the world.
As we climb the stairs, I lean close to Hope’s ear. “See the bartender with the sleeve tattoos? That’s one of ours. The exit behind the main bar leads to the service tunnels. Niko’s positioned at the far end of the dance floor, keeping watch.”
Hope nods almost imperceptibly.
The VIP level opens before us. It has plush circular seating, private bars stocked with the best liquor money can buy, and discreet alcoves where wealthy patrons can conduct business or pleasure away from public scrutiny.
As Roman heads to the bar, I guide Hope toward a curved booth that provides excellent sightlines of both the main floor below and the surrounding area.
“Comfortable?” I ask as she settles beside me, her body fitting perfectly against my side.
“As comfortable as anyone can be wearing a knife strapped to their thigh,” she replies, dryly.
Hope pulls out her phone, the one we gave her specifically for communicating with Chen. Her fingers swipe across the screen, checking for new messages. Her face is calm, but her body is vibrating with nervous energy.
“Anything to report?” I ask.
“Nothing new. He confirmed he’s in Moscow this morning and that we’re set to meet tonight.”
My jaw tightens. We tried every method to get to him before tonight. We tracked his flight patterns, had Dinara monitor hotel reservations, and even checked private airfields. But Chen’s being careful. We think he flew private into a smaller city and drove here, staying at a safe house instead of a hotel. He’s not sharing his location with Hope, despite all her attempts to get that information, and Dinara still can’t crack his communications. That’s why tonight’s our only chance.
After we pump him for information about Simon’s location, I’m going to take my time with Chen. Let him feel a fraction of the pain he put her through. I’m going to break every bone in his body, one by one, until he begs me for death.
Roman appears with glasses of water, setting them down quietly. “I’m going to position myself by the bar,” he murmurs. “Better view of both floors from there.” He squeezes Hope’s hand briefly—a final good luck gesture. I can see it in his eyes, the same tension we’re all carrying.
Eva comes through my earpiece. “Two black SUVs just pulled up outside. Multiple subjects exiting the vehicle. These guys aren’t regular partygoers. They’re Chen’s backup. Keep an eye on them.”
I keep my voice steady, feeling Hope’s eyes on me. “How many?”
“About a dozen men. They’re entering the club now.”
“Is there a problem?” Hope asks, her worried gaze meeting mine.
I force my body to relax. “Totally fine. We think his men have arrived. No sign of him yet.”
After a beat, Maxim comes through. “They’ve entered the club, and they’ve spread out across the main floor.”
“We’re on it,” Niko confirms. Along with a small army of his men, he has the ground floor covered, but like most clubs it’s dark, loud, and busy, and keeping track of twelve menover a large space is challenging. Still, we’ve prepared for all possibilities.
“Tomorrow,” I tell her, my thumb tracing circles on her hand, “we’re going to wake up, make Kin pancakes, and start planning our life together. I want to marry you, properly this time.” I pause because there’s one more thing I need to tell her. “And I’d like to adopt Kin legally. I know I’m not his biological father, but he’s already mine in every way that matters. You both are.”
Hope’s eyes brighten with unshed tears. “There’s something important I need to tell you after all this. Something about Kin. But let’s get through tonight first.”
