I went into Brood expecting a shorter, palate-cleansing post-apocalyptic novella from Claire Kent. Instead, I got a full, layered, emotionally gripping novel that reminded me why this author remains unmatched when it comes to exploring intimacy, survival, and the quiet ferocity of human bonds in the bleakest worlds.

Set decades after the asteroid strike that reshaped humanity, the story unfolds within the suffocating walls of an underground bunker where order is maintained through rigid rules, controlled breeding, and the suppression of emotion. In this realm exists Cadence, twenty-one, earnest, sensitive, and designated “too emotional” by a society that fears feeling more than it fears extinction.

Cadence has spent her life preparing to marry her childhood best friend, but a sudden decree from the ruling council upends everything. Instead, she is ordered to wed Will, a thirty-something newly widowed Chief, and the very definition of stoic restraint. Their marriage is meant to be functional, practical, dutiful. She is to “breed.” He is to guide, protect, and contribute to the dwindling population. But beneath his quiet exterior, Will is a man shaped by grief, loyalty, and a deeper humanity than anyone gives him credit for. And beneath Cadence’s supposed fragility is a resilience the bunker has never understood.

What unfolds between them is exactly the type of slow, emotional unravelling Claire Kent does best. The forced marriage sets the stage, but the true heart of the book lies in how these two strangers learn to care for each other in small, tender ways, guarding each other’s vulnerabilities, finding comfort in stolen touches, and building trust where logic insists there should be none. As their intimacy deepens, the sexual connection becomes a catalyst for emotional awakening, each encounter intensifying the bond forming between them. Will, especially, is the kind of hero I have been missing from Kent’s more recent works; quietly dominant, emotionally contained until he isn’t, and protective in a way that hits straight in the gut.

All the while, the bunker looms as its own antagonist, its rules, its manipulations, and the horrifying treatment of mothers and babies in order to do what is “best” for the system, and the chilling belief that emotion itself is a liability. The plot twist towards the end was one I did not see coming, and grounded the narrative in both tragedy and hope. I only wish certain villains had met more satisfying ends, but the overall arc remains powerful nonetheless.

Brood is everything I want in a post-apocalyptic romance; high stakes, oppressive world-building, quiet rebellion, and a love story that blooms despite the darkness around it. Will and Cadence are beautifully matched in their vulnerabilities and strengths, and their journey felt raw, intimate, and deeply satisfying. The emotional beats hit the right notes. The sensuality builds naturally. And the epilogue? Perfect.

Recommended for: Readers who love intense, emotionally intimate post-apocalyptic romances; protective older heroes; forced marriage done right; and Claire Kent at her atmospheric best.

Final Verdict: A gripping, sensual, emotionally charged dystopian romance that proves even in the darkest worlds, love can be the strongest form of rebellion.

Favorite Quotes

“Why were you talking to Grearson about me?”
“I ran into him, and he was asking how you were and how married life was for us.”
“Oh. How did you answer him?”
Will pauses only briefly. “I said you were as good a spouse as anyone could hope for.”
A shiver of pleasure fills me, temporarily distracting me from my crushing disappointment. “You said that?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. I thought you might say that I was prickly.”
His body shakes with breathy amusement. It’s subdued like mine—still tempered. “Of course I wouldn’t say that.”
“But you think that.”
“Sometimes.” He nuzzles my neck. “But that’s private. Just between us. No one else gets to know about your prickles.”
For some reason, I almost start crying again. My body shudders as I hold them back.
He brushes his lips against my hair again and murmurs something. I can’t hear it well, but it almost sounds like he says, “They’re mine.”