Page 41 of Blackmailing Belle (The Lost Girls #4)
Chapter 41
Kill the Beast
BELLE
T he room is dim and smells of damp earth and iron. The walls are made of crumbling brick, streaked with soot and time, their jagged edges softened by decades of neglect. Once, this building might have been part of Boston’s industrial backbone, a factory churning out textiles or machinery. Now, it’s a hollowed out shell, its purpose twisted into something far darker.
Roman’s base of operations is nothing like the polished veneer of his public persona—it’s a place drained of the humanity it once served—just like Roman, who has no qualms about stripping away the bonds of family if it means seizing more power.
A shiver crawls down my spine, and I can’t tell if it’s from the cold or the danger coiled around me.
I’ve been stashed away with two Wolves guarding the door, to make sure I don’t go anywhere. The cold of this place bites through my borrowed clothes. I pace the room, rubbing my hands over my arms to generate any warmth I can, though it does nothing for the icy realization that I’m under Roman’s control. Again .
My cousin saunters into the room, his tailored suit a jarring contrast to the gritty surroundings. “I trust your accommodations are to your liking.” His voice oozes false charm.
“Cut the crap, Roman.” My voice is steadier than I feel. “What do you want?” My stomach churns, bile rising in my throat, but I force it down. I can’t afford to show fear. Not to him.
He smirks, circling me like a predator toying with its prey. “You always were the ballsy one in the family. Shame you wasted that ambition playing house with Dominic Blackwell.”
At the mention of Dominic, something sharp twists in my chest—an ache I’ve been trying to bury since the moment he walked away. But I don’t give Roman the satisfaction of a reaction. “This isn’t about me,” I say. “It’s about power, isn’t it? It’s always about power with you.”
“Of course it is,” Roman snaps, the charm slipping from his tone. “Power is the only thing that matters. And I learned long ago that the Beast of Boston and the members of his empire were, in fact, true beasts. Shifters, Isabelle. Real, powerful, untouchable. It all makes sense now, doesn’t it? How they’ve ruled Boston for so long. Why they had everything I’ve ever wanted.”
I glare at him, my hands clenching into fists. “So you killed them. His entire family. Little kids?”
Roman rubs his lips. “Admittedly things got out of hand. I hired a local anti-fae group to handle my problem, but they were. . .messy.”
My blood turns to ice. Messy. That’s what he calls the slaughter of an entire family? Dominic’s family. The weight of his casual indifference presses against my chest, and it’s all I can do to keep breathing .
He’s not even sorry. I expected as much, but the sheer lack of remorse still feels like a slap. The room feels smaller, the air thicker, but I straighten in my chair, meeting his gaze. He won’t see me break—not yet.
“You’re disgusting, Roman. Is this why you pushed the wolf pack dynamic so hard? You thought it would make you like Dominic? You’re nothing like him. You’re barely even a gnat to him.”
He stops pacing, his eyes narrowing as he leans in. “You think I don’t know that?” His voice drops to a venomous hiss. “That’s why your father was so important. Basil was supposed to create the answer. A curse that would elevate our people, make us equals to Dominic’s kind—No, their superiors.”
“You pushed my father too far,” I whisper. “You’re the reason he lost his mind.”
Roman’s smile is razor-sharp. “Uncle Basil wasn’t strong enough. He cracked under the pressure, and when his own potion failed, I made him drink it. I thought maybe it would give him a needed nudge to focus. But I suppose that backfired. . .”
“You poisoned him,” I spit, the words tasting like ash. I knew it. I felt it in my bones that Roman had been directly responsible all these years, and now I know. The depths of my hatred has no bottom. “You’re nothing but a bottom-feeding parasite. You destroy everything you touch.”
His laugh is low, curling with menace. “Oh, spare me the sanctimony, Belle. Dominic isn’t some noble figure. He’s driven by power, just like me.”
“No, he’s not,” I snap, my voice trembling with fury.
Dominic might be ruthless, but his strength comes from protecting those he cares about, not discarding them when they’re no longer useful .
The clarity of it nearly stops me mid-thought, and I realize—Dominic’s strength isn’t in his power alone. It’s in how he uses it, not for himself, but for others. I’ve seen it in the way he fights for Basil, even when it hurts him. I’ve felt it in the way he looks at me, as though I’m more than just a tool to be used.
Saying it out loud solidifies something I hadn’t dared admit to myself before. I was wrong about Dominic. He isn’t like Roman. He never was.
“Dominic doesn’t succeed because he’s a shifter. He succeeds because he’s smarter than you. Because he knows how to lead without ruining everyone around him. You wouldn’t know the first thing about that.”
Roman’s smile falters, his eyes narrowing. “Is that what you think? That your Beast of Boston is some noble king? He built his empire on blood, just like me.”
The room feels colder, the air thickening as his meaning settles in. Roman doesn’t just want to defeat Dominic. He wants to be him.
“Maybe,” I say, my voice sharp and unwavering. “But it’s not the blood of the innocent. He doesn’t throw his own away as if they were trash. My husband knows how to build loyalty and respect.”
The kind of loyalty Roman can’t buy or bully his way into. Dominic’s people don’t follow him because they’re afraid—they follow him because they believe in him. He saved Chip with no agenda. The deference he gives to his own housekeeper shows respect most wouldn’t give their own staff. Even I’ve seen it, felt it, in ways I didn’t expect.
“That’s the difference, Roman. That’s why you’ll never be as powerful. You’re just a bottom feeder sucking on the underside of his boots.”
Roman’s smile falters, his eyes narrowing into slits of cold calculation. “You think that loyalty will save him?” He steps closer, the heat of his breath curling against my skin. “He’s coming for you, Isabelle. And when he does, we’ll be ready. My Wolves will meet him on his level.”
A sick wave of dread crashes over me, but I don’t flinch. Roman feeds on fear, and I refuse to let him see mine. Still, his words stick, their venom seeping deep into my chest. Dominic is coming. I know that as surely as I know my own heartbeat. But Roman’s gloating isn’t just for show—he has a plan.
“What are you going to do?” The question lodges in my throat like a stone.
Roman’s grin spreads slow and triumphant, malice dripping from every corner of his expression. “Just because Uncle Basil couldn’t crack the code on a Thorn that would turn me into the very thing your husband is, doesn’t mean someone else didn’t.”
“You’re going to force the Wolves to drink Thorns?” My throat tightens as I struggle to understand what my cousin hopes to achieve.
“Of course. They’re mine to order, Isabelle. They pledged their lives to me, and now they’ll serve their purpose.”
Roman steps toward the nearest guard and claps him on the shoulder with a grin that oozes mock camaraderie. “Loyal to the end, aren’t you?” he says, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. The guard doesn’t flinch, his expression stoic, but there’s a brief, almost imperceptible lift of his chin as if accepting the twisted honor Roman bestows on him.
“You see, the Thorn doesn’t just level the playing field. It will make them stronger. Better. Real predators. We’ll be real wolf shifters but better than the natural- born kind. Because we took the power and made it our own.”
My chest tightens, a mix of fury and terror roaring through me. Roman doesn’t see people—only pawns.
I look at the two guards by the door, searching for even a shred of doubt, some sign they understand the cost of what he’s planning. But they remain stone-faced, their gazes fixed forward, unwilling or unable to meet mine.
His Wolves aren’t his allies. They’re sacrifices, and he’ll feed them to his ambitions without a second thought.
“And when Dominic comes running to save his precious little wife. . .” Roman leans in, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “He’ll face a pack of true monsters.”
The bile rises in my throat with the horror of it. Roman isn’t just setting a trap—he’s creating a massacre. Either he kills his own crew with an unstable curse, or he’ll unleash twisted monsters to destroy Dominic and claim the city for himself.
“You’re insane. You’ll destroy them. Your own people.”
Roman throws his head back, laughing, the sound bouncing off the stone walls like a harbinger of doom. “Destroy them? No, Isabelle. I’m going to reshape them. Break them down and rebuild them into something no shifter could ever hope to match. Power like Dominic’s, instincts sharper than any wolf, and most importantly, my control. And when your husband comes to save you, the Beast of Boston will face a pack of true monsters.”
I swallow hard, fear curling in my gut like a living thing.
"Dominic will come," I whisper, the words quaking in the cold air. I wish he wouldn’t—for his sake—but I know better. He’ll come, because he’s never let me forget: I am his.