Page 114 of Brutal Knight

If he wants to scare me, he’ll have to do better than that. I’ve faced hell.

“I’ve restructured,” I say calmly. “Some of the previous leaders in the Ravens have moved on. I’ve seen to it that in their wake, I’ve shored up shortcomings of the former leader.”

There’s a smile on Kade Underwood’s face. It’s a tiny smirk, but I’m relieved. If he can smile at the way I’m talking trash about Dmitri in the middle of a meeting, maybe it means he appreciates my spine. Maybe it means he’ll be quicker to work with me. With the Ravens.

Despite the grudging expressions on some of the Assembly members’ faces, there are no objections. I know there’s nothing else they can do—not when I’ve done this properly, without stepping on their toes. But part of me was still worried I’d be punished. That something would happen.

It doesn’t.

Instead, Enzo Messina nods his head curtly and ends the conversation. “We will keep that in mind, and hopefully begin to collaborate in the future.”

I know it’s not a promise, but in the Assembly, it might as well be.

The meeting continues, and I can’t feel anything but relief and an overwhelming sense of purpose. I feel like my life is steadying, like everything is falling into place.

I’ve stepped into my position of power. I’m ready to wield it, to take it back from those who stole it from me. I’m ready to take control for the first time in my life.

I’ve always been a pawn, but today, I’m a queen.

Epilogue

WILLOW

“We’re closing for the night,” Connor says, his voice low over the phone. “So get ready and get yourself over here. I want to see you.”

“But it’s only been a few hours,” I say, grinning to myself, leaning against the bathroom wall. The room is still steamy from the shower I just took.

He growls and says, “Too long. Now get over here, before I come and drag you to me.”

I laugh when he hangs up, then toss my phone onto our bed and pull my towel tight around me. The O’Reilly brothers announced at the beginning of the week that they’d be having a celebration. They’ve shut the club down for the night, and only the O’Reilly mafia members will be drinking and partying in the space tonight.

I’ve been excited about it all week. Usually, Connor and I are able to spend a good amount of time together during the week. But in the aftermath of the Assembly meeting, I’ve been busy.

It feels like the meeting was just a formality and the real test is having to interact with the Assembly families, honoring their agreements with Dmitri and negotiating new ones. It’s been a difficult time, but every day I feel more confident in my new role.

And that deserves some celebration.

I even bought a new dress for tonight, and it’s perfect. It’s a deep royal blue, the same color Connor has all over the house. The back is sheer, embroidered silver knots and loops decorating it and curling inwards.

I run a hand along the hem, smoothing it against my thighs. It’s short enough to draw attention, and that’s just what I want tonight.

When I finish getting ready, I say goodbye to the dog, then leave the house and slip into the waiting car outside. Connor sent it for me, since he had to be at the club early to do some business.

The ride over is easy, and I nod my thanks to the driver as I get out.

When I step inside the club, my gaze immediately lands on Connor, as if some part of me is always attuned to exactly where he is. I start to walk to him, every step ringing in my head as he strides toward me.

We meet halfway. One of his hands slips around my waist, the other rising to cradle my jaw. There’s a second when I take a breath, inhale, and surround myself with him. I can smell my favorite cologne on him, the warm scent of wood and spice filling my senses.

He kisses me deeply, and I fall into him. I block out everything and everyone else. All I need is the taste of him on my tongue and the feeling of his hands on my body.

When we both pull back, I can hear one of his brothers wolf whistling. I laugh to myself. I know I’m blushing, but I’m not embarrassed. I love him, and I don’t care who sees.

“All right,” Connor says, jokingly annoyed. He turns around and waves them off. “Let’s drink, you bastards!”

I follow him to the bar and navigate the jostle of people, making my way through the throng of bodies. I can’t count how many people say hello to me, how many members of the O’Reilly crew acknowledge my presence. Some of them are low-level members, and I don’t know their names.

But they know mine.

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