Page 76 of The Beast's Broken Beauty

Alexandros. Fuck.

"Is there a meeting I wasn't invited to?" he asks, his tone light but his eyes sharp as knives.

I turn to face him, my mind reeling from what Stefanos just told me. This isn't just about a medical procedure anymore. It'sabout a lifetime of manipulation, with Isabella caught in the crossfire.

"Stefanos," Alexandros says, his voice dangerously soft. "Remember whose family you belong to."

Stefanos flinches, but there's a desperation in his eyes I recognize all too well. "Family doesn't mean blind loyalty," he spits out. His gaze flicks to me, then back to his brother. "There's blackmail everywhere. And it works best when you know people inside and out."

The implication hits me like a sucker punch. They're holding something over Stefanos. Just like they're trying to do with Isabella.

My mind races, weighing options. I could go with Isabella. Keep her safe, figure out what the hell is really going on in Greece. The urge to protect her myself is almost overwhelming.

But then Elena's face flashes in my mind. My little girl, innocent and trusting. If I leave, who'll protect her? And it's not just Elena. It's everyone in the compound. My people, my responsibility.

The tension coils in my muscles, a familiar itch spreading through my body. I could end this right here, right now. Take them both out, solve the fucking problem before it grows any bigger. My hand twitches, instinctively reaching for the gun hidden at my back. One quick move, two shots, and it's over.

But even as the thought crosses my mind, I know it's not that simple. These Greek bastards didn't come alone. There'd be consequences, retaliation. And not just against me.

Alexandros, the cunning bastard, seems to read my indecision. His eyes flick to my hand, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. "Careful, Antonio," he says, his tone casual but his eyes cold. "You're weakened. You can't afford another enemy right now." The bastard's right, and we both know it.

He steps closer, his voice dropping, and his words tell me that, of course, I was right about them having plans in case this comes to shit. "If we don't come back from this little trip, there are... contingencies in place. Your life, everyone in that compound of yours? It'll be hell on earth."

The threat hangs in the air, as tangible as the salt spray from the waves. I feel my jaw clench, fury and frustration warring inside me.

I force my hand away from my gun, letting it fall back to my side. The urge to fight, to eliminate the threat, still thrums through my veins. But I can't risk it. Because as much as I want to paint this beach red with their blood, I can't risk it. Not with Elena, Isabella, and everyone else in the compound hanging in the balance.

"Isabella's not going," I growl, my voice low and dangerous.

Alexandros raises an eyebrow. "Oh? And how do you plan to stop her? Lock her up again?”

The words hit home, reminding me of my past mistakes. I can't make that error again. But I can't let her walk into danger either.

My mind races, searching for a solution. Maybe we could do the procedures here, where I can keep an eye on everything. Ship whatever they need back to Greece. There's always a way if you look hard enough, and I've got a talent for finding loopholes in impossible situations.

“Can’t wait to show Greece to her." He’s trying to get a rise out of me and it’s working.

"If she goes," I say slowly, each word feeling like it's being dragged out of me, "she won't go alone."

Tomorrow's gonna be a shitstorm of a conversation with Isabella. But I'm ready to weather it. I have to be. For her, for Elena, for everyone counting on me.

Time to show these Greek bastards why they call me the Beast. Because if they try to harm Isabella, I'll rain hell down on them.

Chapter forty-five

Isabella

Morninglightfiltersthroughthe windows, but nothing's magically changed overnight. No lightbulb moment, no sudden clarity about where we stand or what to do next. The world's still a mess of complications and half-truths.

But after spending time with Naomi, I feel... not better, exactly, but steadier. Like I've found my center again, the way I used to before a difficult performance.

Naomi's still sprawled across my bed, softly snoring. Me? I'm up with the sun, cradling a mug of coffee that's more comfort than caffeine at this point. Cerberus follows me around.

And together, we wander into the interior garden, the cool morning air prickling my skin. It reminds me of early mornings at the studio, that moment of calm before the day's brutal rehearsals began.

Back then, I'd close my eyes and visualize my performance. See myself executing each move flawlessly, hear the swell of themusic, feel the burn in my muscles. And at the end, always at the end, I'd picture the standing ovation, the roar of the crowd.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” I pet the companion by my side, wondering what I should be visualizing now.

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