Beast: A Hate Story, The Beginning

Something that fit a piece that he hadn’t realized was missing.

Walking past Nikolai, who was stunned to the spot, Anteros pressed the button for the elevator and stepped inside. He saw himself in the reflection of the brassy walls. Her head fell right into the crook of his neck, obscuring her face. His arm encircled her waist and his hand spanned the length of her ass. His other arm carried her beneath her knees. Looking at their metallic reflection, the words of his Wolves echoed in his mind. He knew he needed to rid himself of Frankie, whether by ending her life or somehow selling her.

He couldn’t figure out which was more merciful.

He couldn’t send her to The Institute—once a contract was forfeited they didn’t renegotiate—but he could still sell her. The Institute wasn’t the only way to sell a woman. Still, the type of man who buys a woman isn’t usually the type to treat them right. There were exceptions to the rule, but it would take time—months, usually—to do the proper background checks and personality tests to weed out the psychos and sadists.

And his Wolves wouldn’t go for that.

No one would.

It was pretty much insanity to insist on such treatment.

As he was trying to work out what to do, she wound her arms around his neck. She made a small noise, almost a sigh, and nuzzled farther into his shoulder. Her hat had fallen off in the car, so her hair fell in a brunette cascade down his shoulder. Everything else was forgotten then. He stared at the way she looked against him in the elevator doors until they opened, splitting the image to reveal his penthouse.

He carried her to his bedroom, putting her to bed with her clothes still on, and then shut the door quietly behind him. With his fist on the doorknob, he stared at the wood a moment, thoughts still on the woman behind him. Shaking his head, he released the knob and walked to his office. Once seated behind his desk, he pressed the call button for Nikolai. The boy arrived within a minute.

“What do you have for me?” Anteros asked at once. Nikolai lightly shut the door behind him.

“The Notte residence is abandoned, Boss,” Nikolai replied, not needing further clarification. “By the state of the food in the refrigerator, it appears Notte has been gone for at least a week.” The lines in Anteros’s forehead deepened at the news. All of the Pavoni Princess talk earlier had made the need for resolution even more important, but Nikolai was simply adding more confusion to the mix.

“Track him down,” Anteros growled.

“Already on it.” Nikolai bowed and walked back out of the office. Anteros tried to work. He pulled out his laptop, attempting to hammer out details for what was to come for Emilio. In the end, his mind was lost, eyes stuck on the window, watching the ceaseless onslaught of snow. He thought of the funeral.

And of Frankie.

With a frustrated groan, Anteros stood up and left his office. It was dark, the house lights off save for the ethereal glow of white nightlights lining the floors. The padding of his feet was the only sound in the whole place. Anteros was nearly to the hallway to his bedroom when he stopped.

There was someone in the shadows, someone who didn’t belong. Someone covered in blood.

Recognition came seconds later and Anteros snapped, “What the fuck, Crazy A?” Stepping out from the shadows, clothes and skin caked in blood, was Crazy A. Blood splattered his face, obscured the lips that didn’t smile. None of the blood appeared to be his.

“The Pavoni Princess rumor originated in The Council,” Crazy A said grimly.

Anteros rubbed a hand to his neck and said, “That’s not exactly news.” The Council had been twisting the rumor for awhile. He was sure they were the ones who started the whole estraneo thing. Truthfully, he hadn’t been sure they’d begun the stuff about Frankie, but it would make sense, and if that was the case, then he could call off Nikolai.

And he wouldn’t have to terminate Frankie.

He exhaled slightly.

Crazy A narrowed his eyes. “They’re behind the attack today.”

“How do you know that?” A second later Anteros surveyed the blood on Crazy A and amended his question. “How much of a shit storm did you create getting that information?”

“The Council isn’t what worries me,” Crazy A replied, eyes still hard and narrow.

Anteros raised a brow. “Oh?”

“You’re looking into the rumor,” Crazy A said. “You got Nikolai looking into the truth of it.”

Anteros narrowed his eyes, matching Crazy A’s fierce glare. “Are you following me?”

Crazy A shrugged. “I gotta wonder why you’re keeping that from us.” It was true Anteros hadn’t informed his Wolves he had Nikolai looking into Frankie. He’d never kept anything from them before, but then again, he was the Boss—he didn’t have to tell them shit.

“It’s nonsense,” Anteros said. “Rumors.”

“You know I never questioned you.” Crazy A paused, looking at the blood on his hands. “Even while you got us jumping through all of these hoops with Emilio and with the fucking government, I didn’t question. I knew you must have some bigger plan, some greater idea that we just couldn’t see yet.”