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“Tell me why I should believe you?” I ask, not because I don’t believe him—the truth is, I do—but because I need a moment to gather my thoughts. To figure out what the fuck I should do now.
“You don’t have to believe me, but if you want to corroborate my story you just need to check the accounts at The Crib Club,” Beast says.
“And how do you propose I do that?”
“You managed to shut down the case investigating Carter’s murder. I’m sure you’ll find a way,” he says, knowingly.
“Yeah,” I retort, already knowing exactly who to go to for help in that department.
“Carter was a bastard, and he deserved to die,” he continues, “And what’s more, I’d do it all again to keep you safe.”
I swallow hard, trying to form the words that just won’t come, because even though I believe him, I have to know for sure he’s telling the truth.
When I don’t respond, he swipes a hand through his hair then says: “The only mistake I made was not telling you everything at the time. You weren’t wrong when you said that you didn’t need a man to make decisions for you. I can see just how capable you are, havealwaysbeen. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of what you’ve built and I’m truly sorry for not giving you the respect you deserved and coming to you with what I found out.”
My chest swells with conflicting emotions and it takes a great deal of strength not to fucking buckle, but I stand my ground and remain calm on the surface, even though beneath it all I’m struggling to make sense of everything. I stare at him for a long long time, my throat dry, my pulse racing, my stomach churning and my heart trying its very best to punch a hole through my chest. But I have to keep my head. First I need to check out his story, and then I need to decide what I do with that information.
Eventually, I swallow hard and nod. “I appreciate you coming here and telling me.”
“It’s the least you deserve.”
“I have a lot to think about,” I admit.
“Yeah, I imagine you do,” he acknowledges. “What are you going to do about the King?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Well, when you figure that out, I’ve got your back, no strings attached,” he says, giving me a tight smile before heading towards the door and pulling it open.
“Beast!” I call out before I can stop myself, swallowing back the fucking neediness in my voice.
He stills, glancing over his shoulder at me, his eyes flickering with hope. “Yeah?”
“Are you still fighting?”
“Not since I fought against Derby, why?”
“Next weekend I’m holding a contest at Tales to celebrate my birthday. Anyone can fight.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“The winner gets to become one of my soldiers. Are you still a beast,Roger?” I ask, picking up the glass of bourbon I poured for him and knocking it back in one gulp, relishing the burn. We both know that this is a test, but it’s also an olive branch. The question is, will he take it?
“I’ll be here,” he replies, then steps out into the hallway and leaves.
