Page 49 of Royal Beast
I hang up, my mind already shifting gears. This meeting will be crucial.
I drive straight to the office, Rory’s texts popping up with updates. He’s already there, waiting for me. The urgency in his messages is clear—this isn’t just another meeting. This could change everything.
When I pull up, Rory’s black SUV is already parked, engine off. He’s standing outside, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his posture tense. As I get out of my car, he jerks his head. “Let’s go.”
We don’t speak much during the drive, trying to prepare for the meeting in silence. But the silence is loaded. We both know what’s going to happen today.
As we pull into the parking lot of the diner, I immediately notice the extra vehicles scattered around. Anatoly’s men are already here, just as Rory said. There’s a strange feeling in the air, a tension that cuts through the cool morning.
I park, shutting off the engine, and we get out, walking toward the entrance. A few of our men and Anatoly’s men are already gathered at the front, standing in a tight circle. The air feels thick, like a storm is brewing. Our men are eyeing Anatoly’s with suspicion, and vice versa, each side making sure the other’s weapons are checked and accounted for. No one trusts anyone in this game, and it’s clear this isn’t just a meeting—it’s a showdown.
I meet Rory’s eyes for a brief moment, his expression unreadable as we step through the door. Our men follow behind, but everyone falls back as we approach the table where Anatoly is already seated, his back straight, his eyes cool but calculating.
The diner is eerily quiet, the hum of the refrigerator and the clink of silverware the only sounds breaking the stillness. The staff are there, but it’s obvious that they’ve been told to stay out of the way.
Anatoly stands when we approach, his demeanor as calm as ever. His tailored suit looks expensive, his salt-and-pepper hair meticulously styled, and he exudes an air of confidence that matches the icy undertone of his reputation.
“Gentlemen,” he says, his voice smooth, almost too polite. “Please, take a seat.”
Rory and I sit down, keeping our distance from the table but still within reach. Anatoly’s gaze flickers between us, but he’s careful, as though waiting for us to speak first.
“Anatoly,” I begin, my tone measured. “I don’t understand the sudden hostility. We’ve worked together before. All of this seems like overkill.”
Rory leans forward slightly, his voice edged with frustration. “We don’t want this to go too far. There’s too much at stake for both sides. We need to settle things, and we need to settle them now. Before someone goes too far, gets too close to an edge we can’t back away from.”
I shift in my seat, my jaw clenching. “Maybe we can resolve this without it getting out of hand, but to do that, we need to be on the same page. What is it that you want? What do we need to do to stop this?"
Anatoly takes a slow sip from his glass of soda, his gaze fixed on us as though weighing our words carefully. His eyes narrow slightly, but his face remains calm, impassive. He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he sits back in his chair, hisfingers lightly tapping against the glass as if considering the best way to address us.
The silence stretches on, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Neither Rory nor I speak again, waiting for Anatoly’s response. His calm demeanor only makes the moment feel like he’s biding his time, weighing our every word.
“Gentlemen,” he says, tone cool. “I’ve decided that this alliance no longer interests me. There comes a time when every man must do what’s best for himself. Sometimes, it's just better to let go. To move on, to cut the ties that bind.” He leans backward slightly, a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Rory and I exchange glances. What do we even say to that? Anger bubbles up inside me but Rory, ever the leader, simply nods before reaching into his coat pocket and grabbing his wallet, producing a few bills and tossing them on the table.
“Thank you for your time. It’s been a pleasure, Anatoly,” he says, his tone polite but not a smidge of warmth in his eyes. I stand up, following him outside.
The two of us step out into the cold air, the door swinging shut behind us. Neither of us says anything for a moment, the weight of the meeting hanging over us.
Rory exhales sharply. “That’s not how this ends. We can’t let them think they can steamroll us like this. A few retaliatory moves won’t be enough. If we want peace, we have to cut off the monster’s head. We go after Anatoly and take him down.”
His words hit hard, a new fire igniting in my chest. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Just as Rory and I are heading toward the car, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, expecting another business call, but when I see it’s Darcy, a wave of unease washes over me.
“Darcy?” I answer immediately, my voice tight. “What’s wrong?”
“Kellan, it’s Rose,” she says, her voice shaking. “She’s in the hospital. There’s been an accident. Please, get there as soon as you can.”
My heart drops to my stomach, and before she can say anything more, I’m already moving. I hang up, barely registering Rory’s confused look before I’m in the car, speeding toward the hospital.
By the time I get there, Darcy’s just pulling up. She’s frantic, her eyes wide and her movements rushed. I fall into step with her as we rush through the emergency entrance, my mind racing.
We find Rose in a room, her arm in a bright blue cast, her little face scrunched up with pain but otherwise okay. The relief hits me like a physical blow, and I swallow hard.
Doreen rushes up to us, apologizing profusely. “We were playing at the park and she fell off the jungle gym and broke her arm. I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Brannagan!”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “It’s just a broken arm,” I reassure her.
