Page 38 of The Beautiful Dead

“I’m with?—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

A pause. A sharp inhale. A sound too close to a whimper.

“H-he said he’d be okay?—”

Wrong answer.

“Your orders were to take him to Deveraux and then straight back to my apartment. Where in that instruction did I say to let him wander off with Kyran Stirling and go to Nocturne?”

Silence. Not because he wasn’t there—because he was terrified.

I let it stretch. Let him feel the weight of his mistake press against him, let him imagine what would happen. The inevitability of what came next.

“I’ll give you one more job. Find Remi. Bring him to me.” I ended the call. Exhaled a slow, smoky breath.

An hour later, Kyran stumbled out of the club, swaying as he clutched his gut, bracing himself at the mouth of the alley.Pathetic. A silver-spoon prince who couldn’t even hold his liquor.

Had no idea I was watching. Had no idea what was waiting for him in the dark.

“Kyran,” I whispered, the sound slithering through the alley, curling around him like smoke.

The walls caught my voice and bounced it back, making it come from everywhere. His breath hitched, disoriented. He turned in slow, jerky movements, peering into the dark.

“Wh-who’s there?” His voice shook. “What—what do you want?”

I smiled into the night, already able to taste his blood. The hunger inside me was begging to be fed. It wouldn’t be satisfied until I was drenched in crimson, until the metallic sting of it saturated the air.

“Just a chat,” I said, voice soft, almost inviting. A predator luring its prey.

He hesitated. Smart. But not smart enough. I took a step forward, just enough for the dim glow of the streetlamp to catch the steel of my rings. Kyran stiffened.

“I’d hate for you to misunderstand me,” I murmured. “So I’ll make this simple.”

He swallowed hard. Then, to my amusement, he took a step toward me. Another. And another. The moment my face caught the light, his body jerked like a puppet with cut strings. His pupils flared with recognition, then pure, primal fear as he spun on his heel and bolted.Pathetic.

I caught him by the collar of his jacket and yanked him back. He slammed into the brick wall with a sickening crack. His head bounced off the surface, dazed, breath stuttering in his lungs.

The first punch split his lip, crimson blooming in thick beads. The second cracked a rib. I felt it give under my knuckles witha satisfying crunch. Kyran gasped, blood dripping down his chin as he spat a mouthful onto the concrete.

I tilted my head. “Don’t touch what’s mine.”

“I—I don’t—” His voice warbled, dazed.

He really was as dumb as those sun-kissed locks made him look.

“You can’t be that inept,” I sneered.

His lip trembled. His eyes darted frantically around the alley, looking for help, looking for a way out. There was none.

Not tonight.

“R-Remi—” he wheezed, chest rising and falling too fast. “He’s just my friend?—”

Wrong answer.

My next punch connected with his cheekbone. His head snapped sideways, crashing into the wall. I wrenched him forward and drove my fist into his stomach. Hard. The wind rushed out of him in a choked gasp. His body folded like wet paper.

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