Page 10 of Royal Beast (Royals of the Underworld #1)

KELLAN

T he drive to City Hall does little to cool my temper.

My mind keeps drifting back to the fight with Darcy.

It’s like she’s determined to make everything difficult—refusing help, pushing back on every decision I make for her.

I’d thought giving her a bit of control might help ease her into this new life and make her see that relying on someone else isn’t the end of her independence.

But she seems intent on fighting me at every turn.

I flex my fingers on the steering wheel, my jaw tight. She thinks I’m trying to control her. She doesn’t understand that what I’m really trying to do is give her and Rose a better life, a safer one. This whole situation shouldn’t be so hard. Darcy’s stubborn determination is a force all its own.

By the time I reach City Hall, I’m barely holding it together. Liam’s already waiting out front, arms crossed, a scowl creasing his face. We make our way inside without a word, both of us on edge from separate storms.

“Let’s get this sorted,” he mutters as we head down the hall. There’s more at stake here than just a casino permit, but for now, it’s all I can focus on.

The clerk behind the desk barely looks up as we approach. He’s an older man with round glasses perched on the end of his nose, a bored expression on his face like he’s counting the seconds until his lunch break. I don’t bother with pleasantries.

“We need to talk about a permit denial,” I say flatly, cutting to the chase.

The clerk barely spares us a glance. “Which permit is that?” he asks, voice dripping with disinterest.

“The one for the new casino site,” Liam replies, sounding just as irritated as I feel. He leans in, resting his hands on the counter with a scowl that would make most people step back.

The clerk sighs, straightening a small stack of papers before finally giving us his full attention. “Ah, that one. Yes, well, I’m afraid that permit can’t be approved as things stand.”

“Why not?” I demand. I’ve jumped through every hoop and met every requirement. There’s no way this is happening over some petty technicality.

The clerk flips open a book on his desk, trailing a finger down the page with exaggerated slowness.

“According to Ordinance 56B, any property within city limits intended for entertainment purposes cannot be approved if there are… let’s see…

‘ sufficient establishments within a quarter-mile radius offering similar services .’”

“What?” Liam barks. “There’s nothing like it in that area!”

The clerk gives a dismissive shrug. “Another ordinance specifies that any establishment proposing an interior capacity exceeding one hundred persons must submit written assurances of compliance with Code 147, sub-paragraph seven, which colloquially is known as the Ice Cream Transport Code.”

Liam’s brow furrows. “Ice Cream Transport Code?”

“Yes. As you’re likely aware, in our city, any business above that capacity threshold is strictly prohibited from any transport of frozen desserts, such as ice cream, in unattended receptacles within their establishment,” the clerk explains, deadpan.

“An ordinance dating back to 1924, revised in 1956, to apply to all forms of entertainment.”

“Is this a joke?” I snap. “This is a casino, not an ice cream parlor!”

“Rules are rules,” he says, holding up a hand. “But if you want to move forward, I’ll need formal confirmation that the property will comply with our weekly window-washing mandate.”

I blink. “Weekly what?”

“Every external-facing window above the ground floor is to be cleaned weekly, per Ordinance 61C. Failure to submit the paperwork for your appointed window-cleaning staff results in automatic permit rejection.”

Liam looks like he’s going to blow a gasket. “Are you seriously denying a multi-million-dollar project over ice cream and window washing?”

The clerk looks from Liam to me, unbothered. “Gentlemen, I don’t make the laws. I simply ensure they’re followed.” He picks up his pen, scribbling something on a sticky note. “Next time, I suggest hiring a permit specialist. They would have informed you of all applicable codes.”

My fists clench at my sides, but I rein it in. Fighting this guy won’t get us anywhere, but I’m not leaving without getting to the bottom of this.

The clerk smirks, a small, smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he glances down at the paperwork, completely unfazed. “You know,” he says slowly, “these laws may seem a bit antiquated to some, but they’re still city ordinances. We all have to play by the rules, don’t we?”

I lean in close, hands flat on the counter. “Don’t play games with us. You know who we are, and you know we can make things difficult for you.”

The clerk looks up, meeting my gaze without a hint of fear.

“Oh, I’m well aware, Mr. Brannagan. But see, this isn’t your land anymore.

” He tilts his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with something close to satisfaction.

“Someone else filed a perfectly legitimate permit for that lot this morning. A proper retail business proposal. Looks like the place is taken.”

I feel my jaw tighten. “Who?” I ask in a low, controlled tone.

The clerk raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, but that information is confidential.”

I look at Liam, a dark expression on his face. Before I can stop myself, my hand closes around the clerk’s collar, hauling him halfway over the counter. I pull him closer, my voice a growl in his ear. “You’re going to tell me right now who it is or you’ll regret it. We clear?”

He doesn’t even blink, just raises his hands in mock surrender, his voice staying maddeningly calm. “Go right ahead. Call whatever enforcers you like. But it won’t change anything. Only the legitimate owner has a right to that lot now.”

Liam’s already circling behind the counter, deftly pulling up the permit system on the clerk’s computer. A few keystrokes later, he mutters a curse under his breath, and I know it’s bad news before he even says it.

“Aleksey,” he growls, glaring at the screen. “That snake’s got his claws in it.”

I let go of the clerk, shoving him back with disgust. My mind races. Aleksey . That fucker. I shouldn’t be surprised that he’d pull a move like this, but it still feels like a punch to the gut.

“See?” The clerk straightens his collar, brushing off the front of his shirt with a smug grin. “Nothing I can do. All perfectly legitimate.”

Liam steps beside me, his face grim. “This isn’t over,” he says in a steely tone.

We take off in Liam’s car, heading across town to one of Aleksey’s usual haunts.

The Russian-owned nightclub is empty, save for a few employees milling about here and there.

We find Aleksey seated at a table near the bar, papers spread out before him.

He looks up as we approach, a hint of a smirk curling on one side of his mouth.

The smirk widens when he sees Liam trailing behind me, his eyes dark with fury.

“Kellan. Liam,” Aleksey greets, casually leaning back in his chair as though he hadn’t just stolen a prime piece of land right out from under us. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I step forward, keeping my voice steady though my blood’s already simmering. “We need to talk about your little power play, Aleksey. Cutting in on our territory? Filing a permit for land we were already working on?”

Aleksey’s grin doesn’t falter. “Ah, business is business, Kellan. You of all people should understand that.” He dismissively flicks a hand toward the papers in front of him. “You weren’t fast enough. That’s all.”

Liam is having none of it. He stalks over to the table, hands clenched into fists. “We lost that warehouse because of you and your people. And now you’ve gone and made it personal by snatching up land that was already ours. You don’t get to waltz in on our territory and change the rules.”

Aleksey’s eyes flash but he stays relaxed, almost too relaxed.

“You lost the warehouse,” he says coolly, “because of your own slip-ups. We just took advantage of an opportunity. And as for changing the rules…” He shrugs, an infuriatingly casual gesture.

“Consider it more of an adjustment. Some of those rules have been modified in our favor.”

Liam’s face darkens. “Meaning what?”

Aleksey’s smile turns cold. “Meaning that we’ve made some new friends in government. Enough to ensure a few of the low- level jobs have been, shall we say, reassigned? We’ve swapped a few pieces on the board, just as your people are used to doing. Only now, those pieces are ours.”

Liam curses under his breath, his hand twitching as if he’s ready to reach over and grab Aleksey right then and there. “You think we’re just going to sit back and let you push us around like this?”

“I don’t expect you to do anything, Liam,” Aleksey says calmly, leaning forward, his gaze hardening. “Except for one thing—learn your place. This land, this government? They’re no longer as friendly to the Irish as they once were. If you step out of line, you’ll find that out the hard way.”

Liam takes a step forward, rage blazing in his eyes. “You have no idea what you’ve started, Aleksey. You and your Russian cronies are going to pay for every single move you make.”

Before he can get any closer, I place a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. I keep my voice calm, though I’m every bit as furious as he is. “Not here, Liam. Let’s not give him the satisfaction.”

Aleksey chuckles, leaning back in his chair again, the arrogant look never leaving his face. “Smart move, Kellan. Very smart. I’d expect nothing less.”

I turn, guiding Liam toward the door. We can hear Aleksey’s quiet laughter trailing us as we leave, fueling the fire building inside.

As Liam drives, I dial Rory, listening to the line ring while we both sit in silence, stewing over the scene we just left. Rory picks up on the second ring, his voice sharp and businesslike.

“What happened?”

I lay out the situation—Aleksey filing for the permit, the clerk’s resistance, and worst of all, how the Russians have been strategically slipping their people into city positions, blocking us at every turn.

For a moment, there’s only silence, and I can picture Rory’s face set in a hard line, calculating a way to strike back.

Liam glances at me, shaking his head. “This is out of hand, Rory. They’re getting bolder. It’s not just permits. They’re getting inside our walls.”

“We can’t keep letting them close off every avenue,” I add, my grip tightening around the phone. “We need to send a message, something to get under their skin.”

Rory’s voice finally comes through. “Then we’ll go right over their heads.

If they want to stack the ranks with their people, fine.

We’ll meet them at the top. There’s an election coming up, and with the right influence, we can plant our own people in their strongholds. Start working our way back up.”

Liam smirks. “The primary fundraiser is this Friday. Perfect chance to work our way in and get some face time with the ones who’ll make things happen.”

“Exactly,” Rory replies, sounding energized by the plan coming together. “You two need to get on that guest list and start making inroads. We don’t need all the seats—just a few of the key ones to send a message that we’re still in control.”

I nod, feeling the fire sparking back up. “Understood. We’ll be there.”

“Good. I’ll start greasing a few wheels on my end,” Rory says. “We’ll remind the Russians who’s really pulling the strings in this city.”

He hangs up, and I slip my phone back into my pocket.

Liam’s still stewing as we pull up to City Hall where we left my car earlier. “Keep me posted on the situation, okay?” he says as I turn to get out of the vehicle.

I nod. “Yeah. I’ll let you know.”

He drives away, and I slowly get into my car, turning my thoughts to the situation with Darcy. There’s no way she isn’t still furious after this morning, but she has to realize she’s backed herself into a corner. We had an agreement.

On the ride home, I try to decide whether it’s better to stand firm or to smooth things over. Maybe somewhere in between, just to get us back on even footing.

The quiet hits me first as I step inside. I close the door slowly, scanning the room, waiting for a sign that they’re home.

Nothing. The place is empty. Not a sound, not a hint of her anywhere. I rush from room to room and realize that my office is open. Darcy’s keys and my credit card are gone from my desk.

A knot tightens in my chest with the growing realization that they’re gone.