Page 32 of The Beast's Broken Angel
The desire was unexpected and unwelcome, a complication I hadn't anticipated when arranging his acquisition.Medical skill and leverage over his sister's treatment had been my only considerations. This... this was something else entirely.
Noah needed to come to me willingly, to choose submission rather than have it forced upon him. Only then would the victory be complete and satisfying.
The realization that I wanted him—not just his compliance, but him specifically—caught me off guard. I'd had relationships before, mostly transactional arrangements with women and men who wanted my power more than my touch. This hunger for Noah felt different, deeper, more dangerous than simple physical attraction.
I left his room as silently as I'd entered. Camden territory and Vega's incursion awaited my attention, business that would require bloodier tools than those used on Parker tonight. Yet as I walked through Ravenswood's silent corridors toward the garage where Dominic would be waiting, my thoughts remained oddly fixed on the sleeping man I'd left behind.
Noah had survived his first test, maintaining his core self despite witnessing brutality designed to break such resistance. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new boundaries to test. The treatment protocol for my scars would begin, placing us in close physical proximity for extended periods. His hands on my damaged flesh, my power over his future—a dance of control and surrender with steps neither of us fully understood yet.
The Camden situationrequired personal attention rather than delegation. I found Dominic waiting in the garage, the engine of an unmarked Range Rover already running.
“Three locations compromised,” he reported as I slid into the back seat. “The betting shop on Parkway, the distributioncenter near the market, and the storage facility by the canal. Coordinated attacks, professional execution.”
“Vega's getting bold,” I observed, checking the Glock in my shoulder holster. “Or stupid.”
“Bit of both, I reckon,” Dominic replied, navigating out of Ravenswood's grounds. “Roberto's losing control of the younger faction. Word is his nephew's behind this push.”
“The nephew missing a finger,” I recalled. Our last encounter with the Vega family had ended with a severed digit delivered as a message. Clearly, the lesson hadn't taken.
“Michael Vega,” Dominic confirmed. “Twenty-six, military background, dishonorable discharge for excessive force during an operation in Syria. Thinks his uncle's methods are outdated.”
“He may be right about that much,” I said, watching London's nightscape blur past. “Roberto's always been cautious to a fault.”
“Want me to call in additional security for Ravenswood?” Dominic asked, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror with professional paranoia. “If they're getting aggressive, might target your personal assets.”
My thoughts immediately went to Noah, sleeping unaware of this escalating conflict. “Double the night patrol. Add Viktor to residential security when he finishes at The Raven's Nest. No chances.”
“What about your new doctor?” Dominic asked, a carefully neutral tone that didn't quite hide his curiosity. “He held up better than expected tonight.”
“He did,” I agreed, recalling the defiance in Noah's eyes even after witnessing Parker's execution. “He's...interesting.”
Dominic raised an eyebrow but didn't comment further. He'd been with me long enough to read between lines I didn't speak aloud.
The Camden situation would require swift, decisive action—a clear message that territory violations carried immediate consequences. Blood would flow tonight, bodies would disappear, and by morning, the Vegas would be retreating to lick their wounds and bury their dead.
Yet beneath the tactical planning and cold calculations of necessary violence, my mind kept circling back to Noah's sleeping form, to the unexpected desire to touch him in that unguarded moment, to the strange tension that had flared between us in my office.
Complications I hadn't anticipated when bringing him into my world. Complications that might prove dangerous to us both if not carefully managed.
As we approached Camden, I pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the immediate requirements of violence and territory defense. There would be time to unravel the Noah Hastings puzzle later. For now, blood demanded blood, and I had never been one to disappoint when such debts came due.
9
HANDS THAT HARM
NOAH
Iwoke up screaming, the echo of that single gunshot still ringing in my head. My heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to escape, sweat plastering my t-shirt to my skin. For a few seconds, I couldn't remember where I was. The plush king-sized bed and fancy wallpaper felt alien, wrong.
Then it all came crashing back. Ravenswood. Adrian. The deal I'd made. The man I'd watched being tortured and executed in a nightclub basement.
The digital clock on the nightstand glowed 3:17 AM, its red numbers accusatory in the darkness. I stumbled out of bed, legs shaky beneath me, and barely made it to the en-suite bathroom before my stomach heaved. Nothing came up—I hadn't eaten since before The Raven's Nest—but my body went through the motions anyway, trying to purge what couldn't be expelled.
When the dry heaving finally stopped, I splashed cold water on my face and forced myself to look in the mirror. The bloke staring back looked like shit, all bloodshot eyes and greyskin. Forty-eight hours ago, I was just an emergency nurse with clear moral boundaries. Now I was complicit in torture and murder.
“What have you done?” I asked my reflection. No answer came back.
My phone sat on the nightstand where I'd dropped it, probably monitored like everything else in this gilded cage. Three missed calls from Mika. One text:
