Page 3 of Royal Beast (Royals of the Underworld #1)

DARCY

A sob rises in my throat as I stare down at the note in my hand.

“Pay up. Or else.”

I know what “or else” means. I’ve seen the broken kneecaps and the hands with missing fingers of men who can’t pay. I’ve seen what can happen when someone crosses the Brannagans and their associates.

My heart jackhammers as I glance around, paranoia flooding me. But no one’s there. Fear turns to cold fury.

“Fuck!” I curse, crumpling the note in my shaking fists. My dad’s fucked up again, but I feel like I can’t get mad at him because he’s sick. He doesn’t have much time left, and I don’t want to spend it fighting.

I feel tears begin to streak down my cheeks. Taking several deep breaths, I focus on the rise and fall of my chest as I try to calm down. I don’t have time for a breakdown right now.

I stop at the café and grab a coffee on my way to work, pasting on a fake smile as I walk to my office.

I’m on the phone dealing with a work crisis when Jessa appears with a stack of files. When she sees there isn’t any space to put them, she turns to leave.

“Leave the files!” I hiss, pointing furiously at my side table. Before she can speak, I glare at her. “Not right now!” I whisper loudly, cupping the speaker with my hand.

She hesitates. “Go bother someone else!” I snap. Her eyes widen before she flees, tears in her eyes.

Fuck. I pinch the bridge of my nose and stare at my cup of coffee. I shouldn’t have lost my cool at her, but I wish she would have waited until I was off the phone. Either way, I’ll need to apologize later.

Inhaling deeply, I turn my attention back to the person on the other end. “Uh-huh,” I say, my tone clipped. “We’ll be in touch with our lawyers.”

Just as I hang up, Miranda appears, hands on her hips.

“Darcy, can I see you in my office?” she asks, her tone leaving no room for argument. I blink, running my fingers through my hair, wondering what it’s about this time.

Once inside her office, Miranda fixes me with a pointed look. “What’s going on, Darcy?” she asks. “I saw your intern fleeing your office in tears.”

I sigh as I sit down in one of the chairs opposite her desk. “A lot,” I admit. “We’ve got an issue with one of our author clients that I’m dealing with and I have some stuff going on in my personal life.”

“You know you can always talk to me,” Miranda reminds me. I lean forward, burying my face in my hands.

“It’s embarrassing,” I mumble. “I don’t want you to judge me for it.”

Miranda shakes her head and sits down next to me. “I’d never judge you, Darcy. I’ve always seen you as a daughter. You can tell me anything.”

I bite my lip, unsure whether I want to unload my burden on my boss, but when Miranda reaches out and places her hand on my wrist, I find myself breaking down. I spill the whole sorry tale to her, explaining everything but leaving out the darker parts.

“It’s never been this bad,” I admit, a tremble in my voice. “He’s always gambled away a few hundred here, a thousand there, but the fact that he sold the house and still kept borrowing? I’m worried what’s going to happen to him.”

“Let me help you,” Miranda says, reaching for her checkbook and flipping it open. She pulls out a pen. “How much do you need?”

I gasp. “No, I can’t. I won’t. I couldn’t ask that of you,” I tell her. “You’re my friend but you’re also my boss. I could never pay you back, not in a hundred years.”

“It’s pocket change to me, dear,” Miranda insists. “You don’t have to pay me back. Tell me the amount.”

I think about it for a moment. It would be easy to just let her write a check. I open my mouth and then close it. I can’t allow her to do this.

“I appreciate the offer,” I say, balling my hands into fists on my lap, “but I have to decline. I can figure it out on my own.”

“Darcy, dear, this sounds like a serious issue. You should really think about accepting my offer.”

“I know. But I can’t, not in good conscience.”

Miranda nods, but there’s disapproval in her eyes as she puts the checkbook away. She looks back at me and gives me a soft smile. “If you change your mind, I’m here for you.”

On the way home, I pick up a bottle of wine. I need a drink tonight. When I get home, Rose is napping in her bed and Dad is napping on the couch. I leave them alone and head into the kitchen to pour myself a glass.

Sitting down at the breakfast table, I open my laptop and take a deep breath before pulling up my bank statement and my budget spreadsheet.

The numbers look bleak. I grip my glass, pulling up my 401k account and even the 529 education savings account I opened for Rose, but I can’t bring myself to touch either of them.

What am I going to do? I don’t have the money to pay these men back and if we renege on the debts, they might come after me, or even Rose.

With trembling hands, I pour another glass. I shut my laptop, grab my phone and the bottle of wine, and head upstairs to my bedroom. I set the glass down and throw myself onto the bed, pulling up social media and scrolling endlessly through Instagram.

I stop scrolling when I come across a post I made about Rose, back when she was just a newborn baby. A smile grows as I study the face before me, remembering how tiny she was, how perfect. I take another sip of wine, something tugging inside me when I gaze at her silky soft curls.

Curls that were inherited from her father.

I pause, my mind whirling as I think about the night we spent together.

He could fix this , I think to myself. One call and he can make all this go away.

I haven’t let myself think about him until this moment. He tried to reach out to me after our night together, but I blew him off, scared to get involved with someone so charismatic but so dangerous.

I down the rest of the wine. I can’t do it. I can’t involve myself in his life again.

But as I continue to doom scroll, nursing a second glass, dread settles in the pit of my stomach. I have no answers, no way to pay off this enormous debt or protect myself from Niall and his lackeys.

As much as Dad is convinced that they won’t target me, I know without a doubt that they will. I can’t put this off, and this might be my only option.

I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath before dialing a number that I still know by heart.

He answers on the second ring. “Brannagan.”

“Kellan, it’s Darcy Flynn. Can we meet to talk?”

The words have left my mouth before I can even think about it, and I hear a soft exhale before his voice comes over the line, just as deep and gravelly as I remember.

It takes me back to that night, the way he spoke and how he charmed me so easily. It wasn’t until I saw the gun on his nightstand that I realized what I’d gotten myself into and fled.

I’m lost in thought before I realize he’s gone silent. My brain scrambles to catch up, and I realize he’s offered to meet tomorrow at noon at a place near my office.

I agree and hang up before I can second-guess myself, trying to fight off the nausea as I wonder what I was thinking. Asking Kellan to meet with me is crazy. I’ve been actively trying to avoid his world, and now I’m practically waltzing back into it.

I’m jittery the next morning, barely holding back from snapping at Jessa again.

All I can think about is the upcoming meeting with Kellan and how badly I need things to go well.

I find myself silently practicing what I’ll say instead of doing what I’m supposed to be doing—drafting an email to Clement.

It’s only when I see the alert from my electronic calendar that I realize it’s time to go.

I grab my purse and rush out the door, determined to arrive early if I can. I step inside the Iron Horse Tavern, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. I scan the room, breathing a sigh of relief when I don’t spot Kellan right away.

Just then, I feel someone standing behind me. I turn, my heart catching in my throat as I realize it’s him.

“Hello, Darcy,” he says. My brain stutters to a stop as I take in the sight of him.

His blue eyes pin me to the spot and my mouth goes dry.

He looks even better than he did four years ago, his curly hair cut short, a bit of stubble on his jaw.

My fingers itch to trace over it, but I stifle the urge, swallowing hard instead.

“Hi, Kellan,” I say, trying to keep a polite tone. “Shall we?”

The two of us sit down at a table near the back. A waitress comes over and hands us menus. I pretend to glance over it as I try to gather my thoughts, wondering how I’m going to explain this to him.

“It’s been a while,” he says, a soft smile on his face. I feel a flutter in my chest at the sight of his dimples and force myself to push it down.

“It has,” I say, maintaining a cool facade. Soft chatter in the background fills the silence that stretches between us. Finally, I say, “I appreciate your coming to see me. I need to ask you a favor.”

“What can I do for you?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. I take a deep breath, grounding myself before I launch into the story, explaining how Dad sold the house out from under us. Kellan’s expression darkens for a moment as he listens, but his eyes soften as I finish up.

“So that’s why I called you,” I finish. Kellan nods, a flicker of knowing in his eyes, almost as though he expected the call.

“Darcy, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me sooner?” he asks, reaching out to take my hand across the table.

I pull my hand away, afraid to let myself get too close to him again. Confusion crosses his expression.

He might be able to help me, but he’s a dangerous man and I need to remind myself of that. Getting too involved would be a mistake, especially with Rose now in the picture. I dig my fingernails into the palm of my hand.

“I didn’t want to involve you if I could help it,” I say, a nervous edge to my voice. “But I don’t believe I have any other choice.”

Kellan’s expression falters for a moment, his smile fading.

“I see,” he says, his jaw tightening, eyes narrowing. “I’ll have to think about it.”

He stands abruptly before glancing back at me. “It was nice seeing you again.” His voice is kind, though his steps are stiff as he walks away.

I feel myself shudder and a soft sob escapes me. This was my last resort, my last hope. I don’t know what else to do. I have no other options.

Once I get home, I feel the tension snap. I spot a dirty diaper on the floor next to the trashcan and launch into a fight with my dad immediately. The two of us yell at each other until Rose starts crying. I pick her up, holding her close.

“I don’t have to take this!” Max shouts, slamming the screen door as he takes off. I feel myself breaking down, sobbing as the helplessness overwhelms me. I didn’t want to fight with my dad, but it seems like I can’t help from snapping at him.

Rose and I sit together on the couch, both of us crying until I calm down. We’re finally relaxed when my phone rings.

I recognize the number instantly and I answer it, heart hammering in my chest. “Hello?”

“I have a proposition for you,” Kellan says, his voice dark and unreadable.

I swallow hard, wondering if the next words out of his mouth will be my salvation or my doom.