Page 21 of Wicked Mafia Beast
Then she opens her eyes, squares her shoulders, and walks out. Chin high. Spine straight. Ready to face whatever comes next.
I mentally run through the events after she placed the wish.
Drake says something about needing to tighten up security around the wish room and do better screening of who we allow through our doors.
“We need that yes, but we need to hire better security. No one should have been in the back alley at all. We need people back there at all times,” I cut in and Drake points a finger at me.
“The men of Genesis have a few runners they’ve been trying to offload.” Drake turns to Rafael and continues. “If you’re on board, I’ll reach out and get them on our team. We need more than just hired help. We need the level of security that makes these fuckers like Enzo and now Malone think twice before stepping into our territory.”
Rafael’s gaze finds mine and then turns to each of the brothers around the table. “I think we are all on the same page. But if one of Harlon’s runners gets hungry for blood, he’s out. We have no need for wildcards, you feel me?”
“Read you loud and clear, brother.” Drake steps out, phone already pressed to his ear.
The men of Genesis run a tight ship. Among many things, they provide a safe place to do dirty deals that come with contracts for people like us. We do the same for our clients here at Redthorne Holdings, but there is one service we do not provide that the Men of Genesis do and that is assassins for hire. You want someone offed and can pay the price, they have a “runner” for that. It’s messed up, but welcome to my world.
Pulling my thoughts back to Onyx, I hold up the wish. "We have to take this on. She dropped this wish last night. Before the attack."
Rafael takes the paper from my hand. Reads it. His expression doesn't change, but I've known him long enough to see the anger banked behind his eyes, the cold fury that he keeps leashed.
"She’s offering us intelligence on the Malones." His voice is soft, dangerous. "Secrets. In exchange for protection."
He’s being a gentleman. We both know she’s offering her virginity as the sugar on top. But I’m not a fucking fool. She’s getting rid of anything that can be used against her, too. Taking V-cards isn’t my style, but I’m looking to change that for one woman in particular.
Rafael sets the wish on the table, smooths the creases with careful fingers. "The auction is Saturday. Three days. We have three days to get her out."
I nod. "I want to take this one." The words leave my mouth before I've fully formed the thought. "Society 69 knows me. They'll let me in. I'll buy her, bring her back, and then we burn Seamus Malone's entire operation to the ground."
Silence.
Luca lets out a low whistle. "The Beast wants to play hero. That's new."
"Not hero." I meet his eyes, letting him see exactly what I am in this moment. The monster. The weapon. The man who knows what it means to be sold and will burn the world before he lets it happen to someone else. "Protection to a woman who has no one else. She came to us."
Rafael studies me for a long moment. Whatever he sees must satisfy him, because he nods.
"Do it. Buy her. Bring her back. Get the intelligence she's offering." A pause. "And Kon? Whatever you do, don't let Seamus know we're coming. Not until you’re ready to put the check in his hand and walk out with his niece."
My smile turns predatory. "His expression will be priceless."
“Counting on it.”
The meeting breaks up. The others filter out, already moving to their assigned tasks. Luca to gather more intel. Rowan to coordinate security. Massimo to prepare whatever legal fictions we'll need. Drake to make calls. Cristian to work his shadow networks.
I stay behind.
The conference room is quiet now, the air still and heavy with the ghosts of conversations and decisions that will ripple outward for months. Just me and the frozen image of her face on the screen, those blue eyes staring out at nothing, caught forever in a moment of desperate courage.
I grab an abandoned tablet in the middle of the table. Luca’s, no doubt. I type in the security code and pull up Onyx Rose Malone’s file on my tablet. Luca works wickedly fast as does his contacts. He’s already compiled everything into one file. Her journalism degree. Her blocked career. Her dead mother. Her six months in Chicago.
And a photo.
Black hair that catches the light. Blue eyes sharp enough to cut glass. A jaw set with defiance even in a candid shot. She's not smiling. She's staring directly at the camera with an expression that says try me, I dare you.
I move to the sidebar where crystal decanters catch the morning light and pour myself a vodka. The glass is heavy in my hand, cold against my palm. I don't usually drink this early, but nothing about today is usual.
The first sip burns a trail down my throat, settles into my stomach like liquid fire. The second is smoother. By the third, my hands have stopped shaking and my heart has resumed something approaching a normal rhythm.
The silence of the empty room presses in around me, broken only by the soft hum of the ventilation and the distant sounds of the city thirty-two floors below. I stand at the window, looking out at Chicago sprawled beneath me, all glass and steel and secrets, and somewhere out there Onyx is alone and has no fucking idea what comes next.
