Page 28 of The Beast's Broken Angel
As for tonight's trip to The Raven's Nest, dread pooled in my gut. What nasty aspect of Adrian's empire was I about to witness? And how would it change me to be part of it?
I spent the rest of the day developing Adrian's treatment plan, losing myself in the medicine because it was safer than thinking about everything else. Lunch arrived at some point, delivered by a silent staff member who seemed afraid to look me in the eye. I ate without tasting, my mind already at tonight's mysterious appointment.
At six, Dominic appeared to escort me back to my suite, where clothing had been laid out on my bed. Black jeans, a navy button-down shirt, and leather shoes that probably cost more than my monthly rent.
“Mr. Calloway prefers you blend in tonight,” Dominic explained. “The Raven's Nest has a certain clientele. Standing out isn't wise.”
“What exactly happens at this club?” I asked, picking up the shirt. It was my exact size, of course.
“It's a nightclub,” Dominic said, face carefully blank. “Music. Drinks. Dancing. And other activities.”
“Other activities,” I repeated flatly. “That's why I'm going? For these 'other activities'?”
“Mr. Calloway will explain everything,” Dominic replied, backing toward the door. “Be ready at seven. I'll come get you.”
After a quick shower, I dressed in the provided clothes, which fit perfectly. The mirror showed someone who looked like me but wasn't quite right. Like I was wearing a costume for a role I hadn't auditioned for.
The nerves got worse as seven approached. I'd worked night shifts in London's trauma centres, seen horrific injuries, dealt with violent patients. But nothing had prepared me for the crawling dread of knowing I was about to witness something that would probably change how I saw myself forever.
At seven sharp, Dominic knocked. He led me through Ravenswood's labyrinth to the main hall, where Adrian waited by the front door. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit that made my designer clothes look cheap in comparison, his scarred profile dramatic in the hall's soft lighting.
“Right on time,” Adrian noted, checking his watch.
“Not like I had a choice,” I muttered.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “There are always choices, Noah. Simply consequences attached to each.”
A sleek black car waited outside, Viktor at the wheel. Adrian gestured for me to get in first, then slid in beside me, his larger frame making the spacious backseat feel suddenly smaller. His cologne, something dark and expensive, filled the enclosed space.
“The Raven's Nest is one of my legitimate businesses,” Adrian explained as we pulled away from Ravenswood. “Anightclub catering to exclusive clientele. But it serves multiple purposes.”
“Money laundering?” I guessed, figuring there was no point pretending I didn't know what kind of man he was.
Adrian didn't seem offended. “Among other things. It's also neutral ground for certain meetings, an information hub, and occasionally a place where problems are solved.”
The way he said “problems are solved” made my stomach clench. We rode in silence for a while, London's lights streaming past the tinted windows. I had a thousand questions but was afraid to ask any of them.
“Your sister's treatment went well today,” Adrian said unexpectedly. “Dr. Whitman reports continued improvement in her markers.”
The mention of Isabelle jerked me from my anxious thoughts. “You spoke to her doctor?”
“I receive daily reports on her condition,” Adrian replied like it was perfectly normal to monitor my sister's medical care. “The foundation funding her treatment requires regular updates.”
“Is that why we're going to this club tonight? Some kind of reminder that you control her treatment so I'd better behave?”
Adrian turned those mismatched eyes on me, one blue, one amber, both unsettlingly intense. “I don't need reminders or threats to ensure your cooperation, Noah. We have a contract. I'm simply integrating you into the full scope of your responsibilities.”
“Which include what, exactly?”
“You'll see,” he said, turning back to the window. “We're almost there.”
The Raven's Nest was in Soho, occupying what looked like a converted theatre. A line of beautiful people waited behind velvet ropes, watched over by security who looked more likespecial forces than bouncers. Viktor pulled up to a private entrance, where more security waited.
“Stay close to me,” Adrian instructed as we got out. “Don't speak to anyone unless I indicate it's acceptable. Observe. Learn.”
The club interior hit me with a wall of sound and light, bass so deep I felt it in my chest. The main floor was packed with people dancing under shifting coloured lights, while VIP areas on elevated platforms held the beautiful and wealthy drinking champagne and watching the crowd below.
Adrian moved through it all like he owned the place, which I supposed he did. What struck me most was how people reacted to him. They didn't recoil from his scars; they practically bowed before them. Men nodded respectfully, women watched him with hungry eyes. His disfigurement wasn't a flaw here; it was a badge of power, proof he'd survived something that would have killed most people.
