Page 38 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

"What are you to Rory?" The question came out fast. Too fast.

Not my business, obviously. But the director said she was Rory's guardian. A strange tightness gripped my chest, like I was bracing for something brutal.

Briony opened her mouth. "I'm his—"

"Mom." Rory cut in, looking up at me. "She's my mom."

The ringing in my ears came back, like water flooding in. Mom?

Briony was twenty-three. Rory was eight. The math hit me like a punch, bringing a cold, hard rage with it.

I looked at her. She shot Rory a glare, then glanced at me.

"Yes," she said. "Thank you for saving my... son."

She confirmed it. The tightness in my chest turned to a stabbing pain. What had happened to her? How could she have had a kid so young? If there was force involved, I'd hunt down that nameless bastard myself.

"Just doing what needed doing," I said.

"You probably didn't bring spare clothes. You're soaked from saving Rory. Want to come to our place and change? It's nearby. Better than staying wet."

I'd planned to leave once the guardian arrived. Now I changed my mind.

She and Rory lived in an old apartment building nearby. The door opened to a faded leather couch and a worn coffee table.

Everything was old but not dirty. The torn armrest had been carefully stitched. The wobbly table leg had folded cardboard wedged under it. There was even a vase of flowers on the table. Whoever lived here loved life.

"Rory, dry your hair." Briony tossed him a light gray towel, then handed me a white one. "Sorry, this is all I've got."

I took the towel and pressed it to my hair. Faint lemon soap scent—same as hers. This was probably hers. I breathed it in deep, imagining her sitting on my face. If she actually did, I'd die happy, smothered by her scent and softness.

"And this." She handed me a neatly folded set of men's clothes. "Makar left these. They'll have to do."

Makar. That name killed the heat in my gut. I stared at the clothes. Didn't take them.

"You still have his stuff?" My voice came out lower than I intended.

"Just some clothes I forgot to deal with." She looked confused.

"Even after the wedding, you didn't think about it?"

She clearly heard the edge in my tone and shoved the clothes into my chest. "Are you wearing them or not?"

Her knuckles brushed my arm. Just once, then she tried to pull back. I caught her wrist first.

Her breath hitched. She glanced at Rory, who'd stopped drying his hair. "Varlam."

I didn't care about Rory's reaction.

"What else of his are you keeping?"

"Nothing."

"Look at me when you say it."

She met my eyes, annoyed. "Some clothes. That's it. Happy?"

"Getting there." I watched her ears turn red, then let go.