Page 47 of Brutal Reign
Lukas’s lookalike staggers but recovers quickly as both men crash into the dirt beside me. Simon’s pistol flies from his hand and lands far out of reach.
They come up at the same time, bare fists flying, their hits landing fast and brutal. The stranger is taller and larger, but Simon is fast and deft, having trained in all sorts of martial arts and hand-to-hand combat.
Simon throws an elbow into his opponent’s side. The man groans, dodges a second strike, then lands a vicious uppercut to Simon’s jaw. His head snaps back, blood flying from his mouth. They’re both breathing hard, circling each other like beasts.
My head is swimming, but the only thing clear to me is that I need to get the hell out of here. I scan the area, and my eyes lock on Simon’s gun, where it landed ten feet away. Blocking out everything else, I army crawl across the grass until my hand closes around the grip of the pistol.
I stumble to my feet as Simon grabs a fistful of the other guy’s jacket and slams him into a tree. He retaliates with a knee to Simon’s ribs. As Simon catches his breath, the stranger takes the opportunity to land a brutal left hook to his jaw.
“Fuck you.” Hatred gleams in Simon’s eyes as he cups his face. “Take a hint, Fedorov. The Syndicate wasn’t invited to my wedding.”
Fedorov?
I know that name. Whispered in my father's study during late-night meetings, always with fear and respect. Pavel Fedorov. One of the Syndicate’s most dangerous men.
And somehow, he’s a dead ringer for the gentle Swedish author who gave me Kin.
“Enough!” I shout, raising the gun, both hands trembling. “Step back. Both of you.”
It takes them a minute to realize what’s happening. That I’m holding the gun, therefore I’m the one holding the power now.
They slowly separate, breathing hard, their clothes streaked with dirt. Simon’s lip is split open. The other has a gash above his eye. They both raise their hands and turn to me.
The gun shakes in my grip, but I don’t lower it as my eyes settle on Pavel Fedorov. I study his face, taking in his familiar straight nose, sharp jawline and cheeks, even the way he holds himself.
“It’s me,” he says, confirming my suspicions.
I shake my head, not willing to accept that the man I fell for is also the enemy.
“You’re… one of them,” I say, my voice broken.
He doesn’t deny it. He meets my eyes, steady and unflinching. My whole body sways with the weight of the truth.
Simon looks between us, eyes narrowing. “Fucking shoot him Hope. What are you waiting for?”
“Shut up,” I spit back as rage and betrayal crash through me.
Pavel’s gaze never leaves mine, something desperate and raw in his expression. “It doesn’t matter what my name is, Hope. Or should I sayLily? You know who I am,” he says, voice rough like gravel. “You knowme.”
I know the way he kissed me. I know the way he touched me. But it turns out I didn’t actually know the man standing in front of me. Not at all.
Before I can say more, a roar splits the air as a helicopter crests the tree line, blades kicking up a whirlwind of dirt and debris as it descends onto the helipad fifty yards away.
The cyclone of wind and dust forces me to shield my face, and in that split second of distraction, Simon makes his move.
He lunges toward me, grabbing for the gun. I scream, twisting away, as Pavel surges forward and slams into Simon’s side, knocking him off me. The pistol flies from my hand, clattering across the ground again.
Pavel dives for it the same instant Simon does, their bodies slamming together with bone-jarring force. Simon gets a hand on it first, but Pavel wrenches it free with a savage growl, driving his shoulder into Simon’s gut.
Gun in hand, Pavel jerks back, but Simon’s fist slams into his ribs, followed by a hard blow to the side of his head that sends the much bigger man staggering.
Simon doesn’t wait around. He sprints toward the helicopter, dirt flying beneath his shoes.
Pavel recovers, lifting the pistol and squeezing off a shot, but the bullet misses by a breath as Simon veers to the side. Another shot cracks the air, and this time, it’s not Pavel but the helicopter pilot returning fire.
Pavel lunges, grabs me around the waist, and shoves me behind the thick trunk of a nearby tree. His body presses close, shielding mine, as another bullet zings past where I was standing seconds ago.
Holy shit. He nearly took a bullet for me.
