Page 37 of The Beautiful Dead

Inbrutality.

In strategy. My mind worked in ways he could never understand.

He laughed when I threatened Brielle. Brushed it off. But he didn’t realize—those words were for him, too.

I held his gaze, watching the pale tinge creep across his face. “You’ll never see me coming,” I vowed and turned to walk away.

CHAPTER 8

DOMINO

The city reeked of filth. The neon overhead flickered, casting jagged shadows along the cracked sidewalk. The stench of piss and sweat clung to the alley walls, thick and suffocating. My hands flexed at my sides, curling into fists, itching to hurt. To break something.

To breakhim.

My father had pissed me off today. That long, drawn-out meeting. The usual cryptic bullshit. Speaking in riddles, dodging my questions, testing my patience as if I didn’t already know he was a liar. But that wasn’t what was shredding me apart from the inside. That wasn’t the thing feeding the monster inside me, making my skin feel too tight, my vision narrow.

No. That rage had a name.Kyran-fucking-Stirling.

The moment I left the DeMarco compound, I headed straight to Deveraux—only to see Kyran sliding into the back ofmycar aftermyRemi. That smug fucking smile on his face, those greedy fucking eyes trailing lower, locking onto Remi’s ass like he had any fucking right looking at what belonged to me.

The world snapped, and everything went dark. Everything else—the city, the noise, the fucking oxygen in my lungs—ceased to exist.

I don’t remember following them into the city. I barely registered the turns as I trailed them to Nocturne, one of my clubs, but I must have because here I was, lurking in the shadows.

Outside my club. In my fucking territory.

The line stretched down the block, bodies packed tight, the bass throbbing into the streets. Nocturne was legitimate—on paper. A luxury escape for those looking to indulge. But in the shadows? It was a kingdom of secrets. Private rooms, bodies bought by the hour, whispers captured by hidden cameras. Ghost made sure we had eyes on everything. And everyone.

Including him. Kyran Stirling was flagged in every DeMarco establishment. The second he stepped inside, I would know.

Remi, though…Remi was untouchable. Didn’t matter if he followed a dress code or not. Didn’t matter if he walked through the front door barefoot and bleeding—he could go anywhere.

My phone buzzed. I didn’t need to check to know it was Antonio. Across the street, he caught my eye, gave a nod, then slipped inside.

And still—I watched. Kyran had his arm on him. Holding him close. Leaning in, whispering something in his ear that made Remi laugh under the purple UV glow of the Nocturne sign.

Laughter. My fingers twitched. My pulse slowed. Over my dead fucking body.

The images hit hard and fast—Kyran on his knees, his arms bent at grotesque angles, mouth opening in a silent scream as I carved that smug fucking smirk from his face. I had already let him breathe once today. A mercy. A mistake.

I wouldn’t make it again. I cracked my knuckles and rolled my neck, my monster gnashing its teeth against my restraint.Soon.

I lit a cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled slowly, my body thrumming with anticipation as I watched.

Remi moved. Stepped back.

My body went tight, muscles coiled, a loaded trigger, seconds from snapping—I could be by his side in a heartbeat. Could rip Kyran’s arm from its socket before he even realized I was there. Could drive my knee into his back, pin him to the ground, press my blade to his throat, and let him feel what a mistake it was to touch what was mine.

But then Kyran laughed, raised his hands. Remi shook his head, turned on his heel, and walked away.

Good.

I forced myself to stay still. To breathe. Kyran had just saved himself—for now. I pulled out my phone. It barely rang once.

“Boss?” Juno answered.

“Where the fuck are you?” I asked, voice low, edged with death.

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