Page 112 of The Beast

“Death comes for everyone eventually. Some deaths are quick. Merciful. Others...well.” A pause. “I’m told some victims would consider three days of torment in a cabin a mercy compared to what’s possible. And it seems to me that you’d hurt more knowing someone you love is waiting for that slow death. And believe me, wanting you to hurt more is very much on my agenda.

The message ends.

I lower the phone slowly, ice spreading through my veins. Three days. A cabin. And a clear message—I did that. I can do worse. I can hurt someone you love.

“When did you get this?” My voice sounds strange. Distant.

“An hour ago. Maybe two.” Gabriel’s jaw is tight enough to shatter. “Anonymous email, AI voice, routed through a dozen different servers. Untraceable.”

“My father sent this.” The words make me shiver, but I know they’re true. He paid Dekker and Webb, after all. He tried to murder the man I love.

“Sterling Hart, that fucker.” The words are harsh, but his hands are shaking. I’ve never seen his hands shake.

“He’s not even hiding anymore,” Gabe says.

I meet his eyes, and all I see is rage. Pure, burning fury, the kind that could level cities.

“He’s trying to scare you,” I say. “To make you back off.”

“Then he’s a fucking idiot.” Gabriel takes the phone from my hand and sets it aside with deliberate care. The control in his movements is more terrifying than any explosion would be. “All he’s done is remind me exactly why I spent five years building an empire designed to destroy him.”

“Don’t you dare do anything stupid,” I say, fresh terror rising inside me. “The evidence is coming together. Leo found the money trail. We have Dekker’s confession. And surely we’ll have Webb in custody soon, too. The FBI⁠—”

“The FBI.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Your father has cops in his pocket, judges on his payroll, politicians who owe him favors. You think the FBI scares him? You think justice scares him?”

“It should. The walls are closing in. That’s why he sent this—he’s desperate. Please, Gabriel. Please don’t be rash. I can’t lose you. Not again. Not when I’ve just gotten you back.” I taste salt and realize I’m crying.

“Do you really think I’ll sit around and wait? I got away from him, and that pisses him off. He wants to hurt me, and he knows how—by hurting you. And since he’s up and disappeared, we don’t even know where to look for him.”

“Then we get the police involved.”

But he’s not thinking about cops or the FBI or even justice. He’s thinking about blood.

“Gabriel, please.” You go out chasing vengeance, and I’ll lose you again. Even if they don’t arrest you, I’ll lose you. The man inside. The man I love. Please, please. We have to do this the right way.”

“The right way.” He says it like the words taste bitter. “The right way is watching your father walk free because he can afford better lawyers than God. The right way is waiting for a system that’s been rigged in his favor since before either of us was born.”

“Bullshit. The right way is not becoming what he made you.”

The words land like a slap. Gabriel goes still, something flickering behind his eyes—pain, maybe, or recognition.

“I’m already what he made me,” he says quietly.

“Dammit, Gabriel, no.”

“He had me tortured, Bella. For three days. Left me to burn alive in that cabin. And now he’s promising to do worse—to you.”

“He’s threatening. But he won’t hurt me. I’m his daughter.”

Gabriel turns, and the look on his face makes my blood run cold. “You think that matters to him? You think blood means anything to a man like Sterling Hart?” He crosses back to me, grips my shoulders. “He’s already proven what he’s willing to do to protect himself. You’re not a daughter to him—you’re a liability. An asset that’s outlived its usefulness.”

I want to argue. Want to tell him he’s wrong, that whatever my father is, he wouldn’t actually hurt me. But the words stick in my throat because they’re a lie. I’ve watched my father operate for years, and I know exactly what he’s capable of.

“Then let the FBI handle it,” I say instead. “Let them build their case. Let justice⁠—”

“Justice.” He spits the word like it’s poison. “There is no justice for what he did to me. There’s only ending him before he ends us.”

“And if ending him ends you too?” My voice cracks. “If you go down this path—if you become the weapon he forged—you won’t survive it, Gabriel. Even if you win, you lose. The beast will take over completely, and I lose you anyway.”