Shooter was sitting on a crate next to Dom behind Mateo and Carlos, smoking a cigarette, waiting patiently for her to come to terms with this, and I hated him for that. Hated him for his calmness, for his patience. For his understanding.
Belle’s gaze found mine and I held a hand out to her. She walked toward me slowly, each step like it was her own death sentence. Her hand in mine, I pulled her close and kissed the top of her head, feeling her whole body trembling.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
She was trying to be strong, for me, her eyes like steel.
“You don’t have to do this. We can just leave, Belle.”
This was my family, but I’d leave them for her. I’d leave everything and everyone for her.
“I have to,” she whimpered, tears filling her eyes. “I have to, because I love you, Beast, and I don’t want to take your family away from you.”
It was like her own words solidified it for her, and she pulled away from me and headed over to Mateo. She stared at his unconscious form, hanging there, waiting for his execution, and I wanted to tell her that it would be okay, that she wouldn’t be haunted by the things she did next, but that would be a lie.
She turned to look at me, her face pale. “What do I do, Beast?” she asked, the words barely audible.
I walked to the table with my tools on it and looked over them all, trying to choose the simplest, easiest, and least bloody one for her—something that would inflict pain but not be too horrific or too gory—but they were all the same; they were allmeantto inflict the biggest amount of pain, and each scream that she tore from Mateo would kill her a little inside.
I glared across at Shooter again, my nostrils flaring in anger at him for making her do this, even though I knew it wasn’t entirely his decision. It had been a club one.
But this was Belle.
Beautiful, innocent Belle.
Belle, who wanted to care for people, not cut them up.
Belle’s hand reached out and she started to pick up a gutting knife. I clamped my hand down on hers and shook my head.
“Not that one, babe,” I said, and she withdrew her hand quickly like she’d been burned. I looked over the knives and weapons laid out on the table and picked up a simple combat knife. “This one,” I said, handing it to her.
It looked huge in her small hand and she struggled to get a good grip on it. Or maybe she struggled to hold it because everything in her was telling her to drop it and run. We were so far away from her world now, and waist deep in mine. I wanted to protect her, but there was nothing I could do. All of the things I would usually do wouldn’t work here in this moment, with these people. Blood and violence and releasing the monster within me would only make this situation ten times worse. The best I could do was to stay calm and help her through this.
She stared down at the brutal weapon in her hand and swallowed so loudly I could hear it over the rampant beating of my own heart. I picked up a knife for myself, a classic Bowie instead of my favorite skinning knife. Nothing brought a man more physical pain than having his skin slowly peeling back from his body and seeing his own flesh and blood underneath.
I walked to Mateo and she followed, and I heard Rider zooming in with the camera to make sure he got everything on film. Belle must have heard it too because she started to turn her head to look, but I reached out and gently took the end of her chin in my hand and guided her back to me.
“A man has many spots that won’t kill him,” I began, “many places where you can hurt him and he won’t die, he’ll just bleed. It looks bad, but they can survive it. We’re going to hit some of these, okay?” I said as gently as I could, and she nodded slowly. I pressed a hand against Mateo’s stomach, just to the side, where no vital organs were. “Here,” I said, and reached for her hand with the knife. I pressed the tip of the blade against his side, but I could feel her straining to pull away from it. Her grip loosened on the knife and she whimpered as the tip of it pierced his skin, a small drop of blood forming. He murmured even though he was still passed out, but he was slowly coming back around. He’d sure as hell be wide awake in a moment.
“Beast,” Gauge warned as a thin line of blood trailed from the small cut, basically telling me to step away. This was something she had to do, so there was no doubt that she had done it and hadn’t been forced by anyone.
Belle looked up at me again, her eyes trailing tears down her face. Her chin was trembling and I leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips.
“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered, pressing my forehead to hers again. “We can leave and forget all this shit.”
“You’ll never forgive me for making you leave them,” she whispered back.
And I pulled away to look at her. “I will, Belle. You’re forgiven for everything, if I am.”
She glanced between Mateo and me as he stirred more, his head rolling on his shoulders and his eyes flickering open. He saw Belle and me and a sneer formed on his face when he recognized her. I would have loved nothing more than to cut his throat there and then, but she placed a hand on my arm like she knew what I wanted and then she stepped closer to him.
“The fun we could have had,” he said between bloodied teeth.
Belle looked down at her knife as if contemplating his words, this man, and how her life had ended up in this moment. Tears dripped off the end of her chin, and her shoulders shook, but as I reached out to pull her away from him, she stabbed him abruptly, the knife going in to his side exactly where I’d shown her. Mateo called out in pain loud enough to make Carlos stir in his bonds, and Belle gripped the blade handle tighter and pulled it back out.
Blood dribbled from the wound, trailing down his body, and began to form a puddle at his feet, and she stared down, mesmerized by it. Rider had moved positions to catch every gory detail and she looked up, right into the camera lens, and froze. Long seconds passed before she moved and then her gaze strayed to the blood on the floor and Mateo glaring up at her.
“Babe?” I said, not wanting to use her name on camera, and she slowly turned to face me, almost like she was in a daze. “You okay?”
