Page 132 of The Beast

He said nothing, though. Smart man. And Gabriel strode past him without even a nod of acknowledgment. Through the main gallery, past the newer acquisitions, past the pieces by other artists—talented people whose work meant nothing to him right now. All the way to the back showroom where Caged was again mounted and on display.

He stopped in front of it.

The painting he’d created when they were still planning this gallery. When he thought they had forever. The image of Isabella behind bars of her own making, her arms reaching through toward light she couldn’t quite touch, her face a study in longing and beautiful despair.

He’d painted it as a promise—that he would be the one to set her free from her father’s control. From the gilded cage of the Hart empire. From whatever shadows held her back from the light.

He’d failed that promise. For five years, he’d let her stay trapped. Worse—he’d tried to lock her in a cage of his own making.

But she’d refused to stay there.

She’d stood on a balcony and asked him to choose her over vengeance. She’d tied him to a bed and forced him to feel something other than rage. She’d looked at the beast inside him and loved it anyway.

Now, she was counting on him to find her.

“I’m coming for you,” he said quietly. The words felt like a vow. Like a prayer. “Do you hear me, Bella? I’m coming for you. And God help anyone who gets in my way.”

The painting didn’t answer. But something in Gabriel’s chest settled. Solidified.

He’d spent five years as a monster. Five years feeding the darkness, nursing the hatred, letting the beast consume everything soft and good inside him.

But Bella had found him anyway. Had seen past the armor to the broken man beneath. Had given him something to live for beyond revenge.

She’d saved him.

Now it was his turn to save her.

His phone buzzed. Leo.

“Tell me you have something.”

“Maybe.” Leo’s voice was tight with urgency. “One of Sterling’s shell companies owns a property in Margate. Old warehouse, supposedly abandoned for years. But we’ve got movement—vehicles coming and going in the last few hours.”

“Send me the address.”

“You should wait for backup. I can have a team there in⁠—”

“Send me the address, Leo.”

A pause. Gabriel could practically hear Leo weighing the options, calculating the risks, trying to figure out if there was any point in arguing.

“It’s in your texts,” Leo finally said. “But Gabriel—be smart. Cornered men do desperate things.”

“So do I.”

“I know. But—hang on.”

He heard Leo’s sharp intake of breath, and the moment nearly destroyed him.

“What?” Gabriel demanded. “What happened?”

“Mina,” Leo said. “I just got a text. Found dead at an abandoned car wash. A single bullet to the brain.”

Bile rose in Gabriel’s throat. “Sterling,” he said through a throat clogged with fear. “If he killed the woman he supposedly loved, he damn sure won’t have mercy for the daughter causing him trouble.”

“We’ll find her,” Leo said, but Gabriel was already hanging up. He turned, letting fury rage through him. Gathering its strength. It’s power.

When he turned, he found Harper standing in the doorway, watching him with worried eyes. Chris hovered behind her, still silent, his face pale.

“I’m going,” Gabriel said. “Don’t try to stop me.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Harper crossed the room, pulled him into a fierce hug. “Bring her home.”

“I will.”

He looked at Caged one more time. At the woman behind the bars. At the reaching hands, the desperate eyes, the face he’d painted when he still believed he could save her.

Never again, he promised silently. Never again will you be caged. Never again will you be afraid. I will burn down the world before I let anyone hurt you.

He walked out of the gallery. Got in his car. And drove the short distance toward Margate.

Toward Bella.

And toward blood.