Page 59 of The Beast's Broken Angel
The admission lingered in the air as we entered the library, heavy with implications neither of us was ready to fully explore. Whatever line we'd been approaching in the basement, we'd crossed something else entirely.
I settled behind the mahogany desk, pulling up Harrison's encrypted files on the secure terminal. Financial transfers, communication logs, travel records—a digital paper trail that would hopefully reveal the extent of his network. Noah positioned himself at the window, ostensibly watching the grounds but I could see his reflection in the glass, the way his eyes kept drifting back to me.
“The transfers started a couple of days ago,” I said, breaking the silence that had grown thick with unspoken tension. “Small amounts at first, probably testing the system. Then larger sums as confidence grew.”
Noah moved closer to review the data, close enough that I could smell his skin, feel the heat radiating from his body. “The timing coincides with your grandfather’s illness,” he observed. “When security protocols might have been moreflexible.”
“Harrison's been planning this for years,” I confirmed. “Waiting for the right moment of vulnerability.”
We worked in relative quiet for several minutes, mapping connections and identifying patterns in Harrison's communications. The scope of his betrayal was staggering—not just financial theft, but systematic intelligence gathering that had compromised nearly every aspect of our operations.
“Look at this,” Noah said, leaning over my shoulder to point at a particular transaction. His proximity sent heat racing through my veins, the scent of his skin mixing with the leather and wood polish of the library. “Payment to a private medical facility in Switzerland. Dated three days before Hayes approached me about the job.”
The connection was damning. Harrison hadn't just recruited Hayes—he'd arranged for medical leverage, ensuring compliance through threats to the one thing Hayes valued most. His daughter's experimental treatment, held hostage to guarantee cooperation.
“Bastard,” I breathed, anger building at the calculated manipulation. “He knew exactly which pressure points to exploit.”
“Just like he tried to exploit yours,” Noah said quietly. “Using me as the weapon to turn you against yourself.”
I turned in the chair to face him, struck by the parallel. Harrison had orchestrated everything with surgical precision—recruiting Hayes through medical blackmail, positioning Noah as an unwitting pawn, then attempting to use my growing attachment against my judgment.
“Did it work?” Noah asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Did he succeed in turning you against yourself?”
The question echoed in the silence between us, carrying implications that stretched well beyond Harrison’s manipulation. The truth wasn’t as simple as betrayal or loyalty. Harrisonhad managed to unearth something I’d been trying to ignore—the depth of my feelings for Noah, and the way those feelings unsettled my usual, calculated composure.
“Yes,” I admitted. “But not in the way he intended.”
Noah's expression shifted, understanding dawning in his hazel eyes. “Adrian?—”
“Five minutes,” Viktor's voice crackled through the intercom, urgent with the kind of stress that meant blood was about to spill. “Hayes broke containment during shift change. Two guards down—killed with improvised weapons. He's injured but functional and has taken their equipment.”
The interruption shattered whatever moment had been building between us, harsh reality intruding on charged atmosphere. I was on my feet immediately, muscle memory taking over as my mind shifted into tactical mode.
“How?” I demanded, speaking into the intercom.
“Improvised lockpick from medical equipment,” Viktor replied. “Caught the guards during shift change. Used broken glass as weapon. Professional technique despite his condition.”
Hayes might have been broken during interrogation, but he was still a trained operative with survival instincts. The fact that he'd managed to escape while injured spoke to either desperation or external assistance.
“Security protocol seven,” I ordered. “Full lockdown. No one enters or leaves without my direct authorization.”
“Already implemented,” Viktor confirmed. “Perimeter teams are in position. Hayes won't reach the estate boundaries.”
I turned to find Noah watching me with something that might have been admiration—or concern.
“You need to stay here,” I told him, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Hayes knows you were involved in his interrogation. That makes you a target.”
Noah straightened, jaw tense. “I can handle myself.”
“Not against a desperate operative with nothing left to lose.” I moved to the gun safe concealed behind the bookshelf, unlocking it with practiced efficiency. “Hayes has killed before tonight. He’ll do it again if it means escape or revenge.”
The weight of the Glock was familiar—comforting in its deadly simplicity. I’d hoped never to need firearms within Ravenswood’s walls, but hope was a luxury I couldn’t afford with enemies inside the perimeter.
Ravenswood's manicuredgrounds had transformed into a killing field within minutes of my orders. Security teams moved through carefully maintained gardens with tactical coordination, sweeping sectors with methodical thoroughness while thermal imaging tracked heat signatures through ancient trees and ornamental hedges. The estate's beauty became predatory in darkness, every shadow concealing potential death.
I moved alone through the east conservatory, following the blood trail Hayes had left like breadcrumbs through a fairy tale. The bastard was wounded but functional, desperation driving him toward the estate's perimeter with single-minded determination.
The night air carried the scent of jasmine and impending violence, a combination that reminded me why I'd chosen this life over the sterile safety of legitimate business. The hunt was primal satisfaction, predator tracking wounded prey through familiar territory where every shadow offered potential ambush.
