Page 44 of The Beast's Broken Angel
I busied myself with pouring tea, mind racing with implications. If Harrison was connected to the attack, did Adrian know? Was this some elaborate internal power struggle I'd stumbled into? Or worse, was Harrison playing both sides without Adrian's knowledge?
“Mr. Hastings appears to be falling asleep on his feet,” Harrison observed with a thin smile. “Perhaps medical consultants require rest like ordinary mortals.”
“Noah has earned his rest,” Adrian replied, the use of my first name striking in its casual intimacy. “His skills proved exceptionally valuable tonight.”
The compliment shouldn't have warmed me, not after everything I'd seen, everything Adrian was and represented. Yet some pathetic part of me responded to the approval, a Pavlovian reaction I despised even as I felt it.
“I should check on Dominic,” I said, needing to escape the room and sort through my thoughts. “The antibiotics need monitoring.”
“Of course,” Adrian nodded. “Viktor will drive you. I expect a full report on Dominic's condition upon your return.”
The dismissal was clear, though wrapped in medical necessity. As I turned to leave, Harrison's voice stopped me.
“Mr. Hastings,” he called, that assessing gaze fixed on me once more. “In my experience, family obligations make for complicated loyalties. Be careful where you place yours.”
The warning—for it could only be interpreted as such—sent a chill down my spine. I nodded stiffly and left, the weight of Harrison's signet ring burning in my memory.
In the hallway, I leaned against the wall, suddenly lightheaded with exhaustion and the implications of what I might have discovered. If Harrison was somehow connected to the Wolves, to the attack on The Raven's Nest, then I was sitting on information that could get me killed.
Knowledge was dangerous in Adrian's world. I'd learned that much already.
Yet keeping this observation to myself felt equally dangerous. If Adrian was being betrayed by someone he trusted, someone close enough to have insider knowledge of club operations and security protocols...
“You look like shit, doc,” Viktor observed, appearing silently beside me with his usual uncanny timing. “Car's ready when you are.”
I straightened, forcing composure. “Viktor, how long has Harrison worked for Adrian?”
The question seemed to surprise him, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “Since before Mr. Calloway took control. He was financial advisor to Adrian's father, then grandfather after the fire.”
“The fire?” I repeated, seizing on the casual reference to something I'd only seen hints of in Adrian's medical records.
Viktor's expression closed immediately. “Not my story totell. But Harrison was there after. Helped rebuild the family business when Adrian was still a child.”
That long-standing connection made my suspicion seem even more far-fetched. Yet the matching ring mark couldn't be dismissed as coincidence.
“Why do you ask about Harrison?” Viktor pressed, too perceptive to let my question slide.
I hesitated, torn between sharing my observation and keeping it to myself until I had more evidence. But if Harrison truly was involved with the Wolves, every moment of silence potentially put Adrian and his people—including Dominic, currently fighting infection from his wounds—at greater risk.
“The bruise on the bartender's face,” I said carefully. “It matches Harrison's signet ring. Exactly.”
Viktor's face revealed nothing, but a new tension radiated from him, a predatory stillness that reminded me uncomfortably of Adrian.
“You're certain?” he asked quietly.
“I've been treating wound patterns for years,” I replied. “The size, shape, distinctive crest detail—it's the same ring that made that mark.”
Viktor was silent for a long moment, his eyes never leaving mine. “You tell anyone else this observation?”
“No.”
He nodded once. “Keep it that way. For now.”
Before I could ask what he planned to do with this information, he was already moving toward the kitchen door, his usual measured gait now carrying a new urgency.
Left alone in the hallway, I sagged against the wall, the night's horrors and revelations crashing over me in waves. In less than a week, I'd gone from witnessing torture to treating victims of a gang war to potentially identifying a traitor in Adrian's inner circle.
And somewhere in between, I'd felt Adrian's hand slide down my bare chest with an intent that had nothing to do with punishment and everything to do with possession. The memory of that touch lingered beneath all the blood and violence, a different kind of danger that frightened me in ways I wasn't ready to examine.
