Page 35 of The Beast's Broken Angel
“You look like shit, Noah,” he observed casually. “Adjusting to new surroundings can be difficult.”
Rage bubbled up in my chest, hot and sudden. How dare he sit there so calm, so untouched by what he'd done? What he'd made me watch?
“I need to see my sister today,” I said, not bothering to disguise the demand in my tone. Sleep deprivation had scraped away whatever caution I might have had left. “To make sure she's been transferred to Westminster as promised.”
Adrian took a leisurely sip of his coffee, making me wait because he could. Because that's what men like him did to remind you who held the power.
“Your sister was moved yesterday afternoon,” he finally replied, sliding a folder across the table toward me. “Complete treatment authorisation, private room, specialist consultation scheduled for tomorrow. As promised.”
I flipped through the documents, finding everything exactly as he'd described. The ease with which he fulfilledthis promise felt like just another manipulation, another way to bind me to him through both threat and reward.
“And you thought this entitled you to make me witness an execution?” I kept my voice low, aware of staff moving quietly around us with coffee and breakfast plates. “Was that meant to show off your power? Break my will? Because it didn't work if that was the plan.”
I expected anger. Maybe even punishment for my insolence. Instead, Adrian's mouth curved into a slight smile, like my defiance actually pleased him somehow. The reaction was more unsettling than anger would have been.
“Actually, it was necessary clarity,” he replied, setting down his cup with deliberate care. “You've entered a world with different rules. Better to understand that immediately than harbour illusions about your new reality.”
“I understood the reality when I signed up for this,” I shot back. “I didn't need a bloody demonstration.”
“Didn't you?” His mismatched eyes studied me with disturbing intensity. “Would understanding it intellectually have been enough? Or did you need to see it, feel it, breathe it in to truly comprehend what you've committed yourself to?”
The worst part was, he might be right. The abstract knowledge that Adrian was a criminal, even a killer, was nothing compared to witnessing it firsthand. Now there was no hiding behind ignorance or plausible deniability. I knew exactly who and what he was.
“Viktor will drive you to Westminster at ten,” Adrian continued, apparently considering the matter closed. “You'll have two hours with your sister. After that, we begin your official medical duties with a full assessment session.”
“Is that what we're calling it now? Medical duties?” I couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped me. “After what I saw last night, are we still pretending that's all I'm here for?”
Adrian set his tablet aside, giving me his full attention for the first time. The weight of those mismatched eyes felt physical, like being pinned under something heavy.
“Your primary function is medical, Noah. I didn't exaggerate my need for your expertise with burn treatment.” His voice dropped slightly, intimate despite the subject matter. “But you're also mine now, in a broader sense. Your time, your skills, your presence—all of it for the next year. How I utilise those resources is entirely at my discretion.”
The possessive claim sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine, one that wasn't entirely fear. There was something else in it, something I didn't want to examine too closely.
“I won't participate in torture,” I said flatly. “I'll patch people up after, if I have to. But I won't help you hurt them.”
“We'll see,” Adrian replied, not arguing but not agreeing either. The ambiguity was clearly deliberate. “Finish your breakfast. You look like you need it.”
I wanted to refuse just to be contrary, but my body betrayed me. I was starving, and the food smelled incredible. Under Adrian's watchful gaze, I forced myself to eat, hating how good it tasted, hating that I was accepting even this small comfort from him.
The private carAdrian had sent was ridiculously luxurious, all soft leather seats and tinted windows. Viktor drove silently, his massive shoulders blocking most of my view through the front windscreen. I thought about our strange early morning conversation, wondering if I should mention it. But then the privacy partition went up, and the moment passed.
Westminster Memorial's exclusive wing looked more like a five-star hotel than a hospital. Thecorridors were wide and carpeted, the walls adorned with actual artwork instead of the sad motivational posters most hospitals used. Isabelle's room was at the end of the hall, a corner suite with windows on two sides.
When I pushed open the door, I nearly gasped. The room was massive, with a proper bed instead of the standard hospital issue, an attached private bathroom, and a sitting area with comfortable furniture. Flowers covered every surface, their perfume sweet and heavy in the air. An easel with fresh art supplies stood near the window, positioned to catch the perfect natural light.
“Noah!” Isabelle's delighted surprise quickly shifted to confusion as she took me in. “What the hell? They moved me yesterday with no warning, and suddenly my treatment's fully authorised for the next year?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Did you win the lottery and not tell me?”
She looked better than I'd seen her in months. There was actual colour in her cheeks, and she'd tied her hair back with a colourful scarf instead of hiding it under a beanie like she usually did when it was thinning from treatment. The weight in my chest eased slightly at seeing her improvement, validating my decision even as I hated what it had cost.
“I took a private nursing position,” I explained carefully, the partial truth burning my tongue. “With a wealthy client who insisted on helping with your situation when he learned about it. I'll be living in-residence for a while.”
Isabelle's artist eyes missed nothing, her gaze raking over me with the perception that had always made lying to her impossible. “You look different. Stressed.” She reached out, grabbing my hand with surprising strength for someone so ill. “What aren't you telling me? You didn't do anything stupid for me, did you?”
I opened my mouth, searching for a convincing lie, whenthe door swung open behind me. My stomach dropped to my feet as Adrian himself strolled in, carrying a ridiculous arrangement of exotic orchids like he was just some thoughtful visitor.
“Noah,” he greeted me with perfect casualness, as if we were merely employer and employee. “I thought I'd join you briefly to meet the talented artist I've heard so much about.”
I froze as Isabelle's curious gaze shifted between us, taking in Adrian's expensive suit, his scarred face, the aura of power that surrounded him like a force field. And worst of all, the predatory little smile he gave me that promised complications I hadn't anticipated.
