Page 40 of Blackmailing Belle (The Lost Girls #4)

Chapter 40

A Beast on Borrowed Time

THE BEAST OF BOSTON

P ain radiates through me, relentless, as my body tears itself apart at the seams.

My claws twitch, half-formed and aching, as I press a hand to the edge of my desk to steady myself. The wood groans under the pressure, my claws scraping deep gouges into its surface. A sharp crack splits the air as the desk buckles, collapsing under my weight. Splinters scatter across the floor like shrapnel, embedding in my palms and the soles of my feet as I stagger back.

Around me, the wreckage tells the story of my torment. Bookshelves lie upended, their contents strewn like the entrails of something gutted. Shredded papers cling to jagged edges of broken glass where picture frames once hung. The air reeks of split varnish and old ink, a sickly combination that churns my stomach.

I glance down at my hands, blood smearing my knuckles, a testament to my inability to hold myself together—or anything else. My claws flex involuntarily, catching on the ragged edge of a chair leg I don’t even remember destroying. The study was supposed to be a sanctuary, but now it’s as broken as I am.

I locked myself away in here, afraid to be anywhere else. This house is full of ghosts and I don’t want to disturb their resting places. Even Isabelle’s imprint is on the library, the kitchen, my own bedroom, and I couldn’t stand to destroy those echoes.

And yet, isn’t that what I’ve done? I let her go, and now she’s become another haunting presence I can’t escape. She isn’t dead, but this. . .this feels like a death. Hers. Mine. Ours.

Agony surges again, ripping through muscle and bone, the visceral war raging beneath my skin. I double over, the air searing in my lungs, and roar—an inhuman, broken sound that shatters the silence and leaves my throat raw. My claws lash out, tearing through the leather of the armchair beside me, the stuffing spilling out like entrails. The shredded fabric tangles in my fingers as my vision blurs, and the edges of the room dissolve into a haze of fury and pain.

I deserve this.

The thought settles deep into my chest. I deserve every ounce of this agony.

Because I let her go.

My fist crashes against the desk before I can stop myself, splintering the surface. I’ve always been able to control my anger, to direct it outward, but now it’s turned inward, feeding on my regrets like a ravenous beast.

Belle.

She trusted me. Somehow, despite all the lies, the blackmail, and the violence that followed me like a shadow, she let herself believe in me. And I repaid her faith by shattering her .

I never should have blackmailed her into marrying me. I see that now—how I forced her into my world, my war, and left her with nothing but ruins. Chapter Three is gone, her sanctuary reduced to ash and rubble, and it’s all because of me.

The image of her standing in the snow, clutching that broken sign to her chest, burns behind my eyes. I told her I’d rebuild it, that I’d make it better than before. But how can I? How can I ever give her back the freedom and the peace I stole from her?

I sink into the last mostly intact chair, my head dropping into my hands as the pain in my body sharpens, flaring hot and wild. This isn’t just physical—it’s the weight of my failures, the guilt of knowing I’ve destroyed the one person I swore to protect.

And in turn, it’s speeding up the war of cells in my body. Man versus beast.

I thought I was doing the right thing by letting her go. Telling her she deserved better, that I’d take care of her father, that I’d keep her safe from a distance. But I can’t even convince myself it was the right call. It wasn’t noble; it was cowardly.

I was too scared to admit the truth—to admit that I need her. Not just because she’s my wife or because she’s tied to my survival, but because she’s the only thing that’s ever made me feel whole. And now she’s gone.

My claws bite into the edge of the chair, and I force myself to breathe through the searing pain. It doesn’t matter what I want. I’ve done enough damage.

The beast in me roars against that thought, furious and unrelenting. It doesn’t care about right or wrong, only that she’s gone. And for the first time, I wonder if the beast is right.

Should I try to get her back?

The ache in my chest sharpens, twisting through my ribs like barbed wire. I press a hand there as if I can hold my body together by sheer force of will, but it’s a losing battle.

I’m dying.

The realization settles over me with brutal clarity. I’ve known for a while now, in the way my body strains to maintain control, in the way the half-shift breaks down my insides like a curse I can’t escape. But there is no Petal for this. The beast inside me is tearing me apart, slowly and agonizingly.

And there’s nothing left to stop it.

Forming a pack was supposed to save me. That was the plan—to forge bonds strong enough to anchor me and make me whole again. But I failed. The very foundation of that plan—Belle—is gone. And I can’t even blame her.

At least when I die, she’ll truly be free. She deserves that much.

Everything I’ve built, all the power and wealth I’ve hoarded, will belong to her. The lawyers will see to it. Provisions have been made for Mrs. P and the staff, but the rest? It’s hers. She can burn it all to the ground if she wants.

I exhale slowly, the air rattling in my chest like a dying ember. The beast snarls within me, but it’s quieter now, almost resigned.

I meant what I said. There would be only one way out of this marriage.

Death. Mine, specifically. If Belle and I didn’t form a pack, she wouldn’t be forever bound to me because I was already on borrowed time.

The buzz of my phone from somewhere on the floor disrupts the silence, grating against my frayed nerves. I almost don’t answer, too weighed down by exhaustion and regret. But something pulls me out of the chair to locate it, some gut instinct I can’t ignore. I don’t recognize the number.

Hitting the answer button, I don’t speak.

“Dominic,” comes the slick, venomous tone of Roman. His voice slithers through the receiver like a snake. “Can’t say I’m pleased to be talking to you again, but thanks for saving my cousin from the fate meant for you. And wouldn’t you know, the little lost lamb was out wandering by Poison Apple on her own. Tsk, tsk. You really should have kept a closer watch.”

The air leaves my lungs in a vicious rush, my vision narrowing to a pinpoint.

He has Isabelle.

It takes all my control not to give into another mindless rage.

“What do you want?” My patience is nonexistent, my body trembles from the effort it takes to keep still and listen to this despicable fuck.

“You,” Roman drawls, the amusement in his voice enough to make my claws dig into the desk.

I remember standing here not all that long ago, having the exact conversation with Isabelle.

Perhaps Isabelle was right. Maybe Roman and I aren’t so very different after all.

The thought more than disgusts me.

“She’s not part of this,” I snarl, my voice raw with fury. “If you touch her?—”

“She’ll be fine. For now,” Roman interrupts, his smirk practically audible. “That depends entirely on you, though. You can come to me and exchange yourself for her. Or don’t, and I’ll make sure the next time you see her. . .Well, let’s just say you’ll need a strong stomach. ”

The line goes dead before I can respond, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

He really has absolutely no loyalty to family. He’d kill his own cousin just to get to me.

My entire body trembles—not with fear, but with rage. The beast inside me surges forward, roaring to life with a violent demand for blood. My vision blurs again, but this time it’s not from weakness.

It’s fury.

I push myself to my feet, every nerve in my body screaming in protest. It doesn’t matter. The pain doesn’t matter. My body tearing itself apart doesn’t matter. Only one thing matters now.

Belle.

She’s in danger, and I’m going to find her even if it’s the last thing I do.

Which it very well might be.