Page 36 of Royal Beast (Royals of the Underworld #1)

KELLAN

T he bed is empty when I wake up, the sheets cool where Darcy should be. My heart squeezes as I sit up, running a hand through my hair. She’s gone back to the hospital, no doubt trying to hold everything together like she always does.

Rose’s soft murmurs drift from her room. I step out of bed and head down the hall, finding her still curled up, clutching her stuffed bunny. A small smile tugs at my lips as I lean down to kiss her forehead.

“Kellan’s gotta go for a bit, sweetheart,” I whisper. “Clary’s coming to hang out with you.”

The front door opens as if on cue, and Clary’s cheerful voice fills the house. “Morning, Kellan! Where’s the little nugget?”

“She’s in her room,” I call, heading to meet her in the entryway. She’s carrying a tote bag overflowing with crafts and snacks, her energy already buzzing.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” she says, flashing me a bright smile. “Rose and I are going to have a great time. You just focus on your, uh… meeting. Good luck. Look after them for me, Kellan.”

I nod, grabbing my jacket and phone. “I will. Thanks, Clary. Call me if anything comes up.”

“Of course,” she says, already making her way toward Rose’s room. Her presence eases some of the tension knotting my shoulders.

I step outside, the cool morning air biting against my skin as I lock the door behind me. The drive to the diner feels longer than it is, the silence in the car amplifying the weight of what’s ahead.

By the time I pull into the lot, Rory, Liam, and Lucky are already waiting, surrounded by our backup.

Rory’s jaw is set, his expression hard. Liam leans against one of the cars, his usual cocky smirk replaced by a rare, grim focus.

Lucky stands off to the side, his sharp eyes scanning the area like he’s calculating every potential threat.

“Ready for this?” Rory asks as I join them.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say.

The diner looms ahead, the place chosen to keep things civil, or as civil as possible. A group of Polish guards waits near the entrance, hired to ensure no one comes armed. As we approach, one of them steps forward, his voice brisk.

“Arms out.”

We comply without argument, their search thorough but strictly professional.

Across the lot, Anatoly’s men go through the same process, their irritation clear in every stiff movement.

I spot Aleksey among them, his sharp eyes cutting across our group like a blade.

Dariy Volkov, Anatoly’s right-hand man and cousin, stands beside him, his posture radiating quiet menace.

Then there’s Anatoly’s daughter. Her gaze flickers over each of us until it lands on Liam, lingering a beat too long. Liam stares back for a beat but turns back toward us, shaking his head and letting the hired men check his jacket.

Once everyone is cleared, we move inside. The diner is eerily quiet, its usual buzz gone, replaced by the quiet murmur of voices from the back. Rory and Anatoly take their places at the center table, their stances dripping with authority as the rest of us fan out around them.

Rory leans back in his chair, his voice cold. “You wanted to talk. So talk.”

Anatoly’s lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I think you know why we’re here. Your family is pushing boundaries. If this keeps up, it won’t end well for any of us.”

“Funny,” Rory retorts, his tone razor-sharp. “I was about to say the same about you. Or did you forget what your men pulled just last week?”

Tension crackles as the two exchange verbal blows. Dariy mutters something low to Aleksey in Russian, the sneer on his face making my hands itch to throw a punch.

Anatoly finally raises a hand, silencing his men. “Enough. This isn’t about dredging up the past. It’s about ensuring we don’t destroy everything in the future.”

Rory’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Agreed. But make no mistake here, Anatoly. We’re negotiating on equal terms. You don’t get to dictate.”

The two leaders lock eyes, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, Anatoly leans back, his tone measured. “Then let’s negotiate.”

Anatoly’s fingers drum against the table, his expression calm but calculating. “We’ll start with the territory west of the river,” he says, his tone casual, as if he’s asking for a cup of coffee. “And the docks. Full control of operations there. You step back entirely.”

Rory’s laugh is cold, devoid of humor. “You must think we’re idiots. The docks are ours, have been for years. You’ve got no claim.”

“Perhaps,” Anatoly replies, his voice silky-smooth, “but it’s a vital point of entry. Surely, you can see how sharing might benefit both our sides.”

“We both know that’s not what you’re asking,” I interject, my voice low but firm. “You don’t want to share. You want to take over.”

Anatoly’s smile tightens. “I’d suggest you consider the bigger picture. A little concession now prevents a much larger problem later.”

“Is that a threat?” Rory leans forward, his hands clasped on the table.

Anatoly mirrors the movement, the smile slipping from his face. “It’s a fact. You can’t keep your grip on everything forever. Better to yield strategically than to lose it all in a war you can’t win.”

Rory sits back, unfazed. “You’re underestimating us, Anatoly. That’s your first mistake.”

Across the table, Dariy Volkov smirks, his arms crossed. “Your stubbornness is impressive. But impractical.”

“And your arrogance is predictable,” Lucky snaps from his position near the door. “What makes you think we’d ever give you control of the docks? Or anything else, for that matter?”

“The docks are non-negotiable,” I say firmly, my tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re not giving you control of one of our biggest resources.”

Anatoly sighs, leaning back as if weary of the conversation. “Then let’s talk about the businesses. We’ll take full control of the imports. You can keep the fronts. Seems fair, doesn’t it?”

“Fair?” Rory repeats, his voice sharp. “Fair would be you staying out of our affairs altogether.”

Tension ripples through the room, both sides bristling as the weight of the standoff presses down on everyone. Aleksey shifts in place, his cold gaze locked on me, while Anatoly’s daughter watches Liam with what looks like amusement—or maybe something more calculated.

“We’re not conceding anything,” Rory states, his voice steely. “If you want to avoid a war, Anatoly, you’ll rethink your demands.”

Anatoly tilts his head, studying Rory like a chess piece he’s trying to read. “Then perhaps we’ve reached an impasse.”

“Perhaps we have,” Rory replies, his tone unyielding.

For a moment, the room is silent, the air thick with the unspoken promise of conflict.

Anatoly leans back in his chair, his gaze sweeping across our side. His calm is maddening, deliberate. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that. But stubbornness doesn’t win wars. Strategy does.”

Rory’s lips press into a thin line. “And handing over our assets isn’t a strategy. It’s suicide.”

“You speak of strategy,” I bite out, my voice taut with anger, “but all you’re doing is trying to strong-arm us into submission. That’s not strategy. That’s desperation, my friend.”

Aleksey’s lip curls, his cold gray eyes narrowing. “You think this is desperation? You haven’t seen desperation yet, Kellan. Keep testing us, and you will.”

Lucky shifts near the door, his hand resting on the back of a chair as if restraining himself. “Big words from someone who couldn’t even take a little nightclub without starting a blood feud.”

The barb lands hard, Aleksey visibly tensing as his hand flexes against the table. Anatoly raises a hand again, silencing his cousin.

“Enough,” Anatoly says, his tone sharper now. “We’re not here to bicker like children. This meeting is a courtesy, a chance for you to avoid the inevitable.”

“And yet here we are,” Rory replies coolly, “with you circling the same demands like vultures, hoping we’ll cave. It’s not happening.”

Dariy leans forward, his smirk gone, replaced by a dangerous sneer. “You act like you’ve got all the power, but you’re cornered. Your little family can’t stand against the full weight of ours, and you know it.”

“And yet you’re the ones here asking for a deal,” I shoot back. “Doesn’t seem like we’re the ones cornered.”

Anatoly’s calm facade cracks for the briefest moment, his jaw tightening. “This isn’t a request. It’s a warning.”

“A warning?” Rory’s voice is sharp, cutting through the tension. “Funny, it sounds a lot like you’re begging.”

The room shifts, the tension nearly boiling over as the Russians bristle. Dariy starts to rise from his chair, but Anatoly places a hand on his arm, keeping him in place.

“Watch your words,” Anatoly says, his voice low and venomous. “You’re not untouchable, no matter how much you like to think you are.”

“And neither are you,” I counter, my tone equally cold.

Anatoly’s daughter, who has been silent until now, speaks up, her voice light but pointed. “Men like you never learn, do you? Always so eager to cling to what little you have, even when it’s slipping through your fingers.”

Her words draw another glance from Liam, who quickly looks away, his jaw tight.

“We learn just fine,” Rory replies, his voice a razor’s edge. “And the first thing we learned is not to trust snakes offering deals.”

Both sides continue to trade barbs back and forth, the conversation spiraling into a circular argument. Every offer from Anatoly is met with firm rejection, every counter from Rory dismissed with a scoff. Frustration simmers, and the room feels like it might combust at any moment.

“We’re not here to walk away with nothing,” he says, his voice low and steady. “If we’re going to avoid burning the whole city down, we need middle ground.”

Anatoly smirks, but there’s no humor in it. “Middle ground? Let’s hear it, Brannagan.”

“You want more control over the docks and the waterfront district,” Rory says. “Fine. We’ll step back, but only if we get our casino land returned. That means full ownership and no interference from your side.”

Anatoly’s eyes narrow, his lips pulling into a tight line. “You’re asking us to give back land you couldn’t hold. That doesn’t sound much like middle ground to me.”

“You didn’t ‘win’ that land,” I snap, the words leaving my mouth sharper than intended. “You took it through underhanded bureaucracy. Handing it back is the least you can do if you want us to play nice.”

Dariy chuckles darkly from Anatoly’s right, leaning back in his chair like he’s amused. “And what’s stopping us from keeping the docks and the casino?”

“Common sense,” Rory says before I can. His voice is measured, but there’s an edge to it. “Push too far, and no one wins. We’re not going to fold, and neither are you. But we all know when it’s time to stop swinging and start talking—or at least, I thought we did.”

Dariy’s smirk falters, but Anatoly’s gaze doesn’t waver. He studies Rory for a long moment, then shifts his eyes to me, then Liam, and finally, Lucky.

“The docks will be ours,” Anatoly says, his tone clipped. “You’ll stay out of our way there. And we’ll give you the casino.”

“Fine,” Rory says, his voice even. “But if there’s one more attack on our territory, this ends. No more talking. No more negotiating.”

Anatoly stands, extending his hand. “You drive a hard bargain, Brannagan. I’ll give you that.”

The tension doesn’t fade as both sides step back. Dariy locks eyes with Lucky, his expression daring, while Anatoly’s daughter lingers near the door, throwing Liam a look that’s impossible to read.

When the door closes behind them, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“This isn’t over,” Rory mutters, turning to face us. “Not by a long shot.”

I nod, clenching my fists to steady myself. “At least now we’ve got something to work with.”

As we walk out of the diner, my phone buzzes.

“Hello?” I answer.

Everything seems to move in slow motion as I hear the words the person speaks. My face goes pale and I stop walking, the world spinning around me.