Page 107 of The Beast's Broken Angel

“Those defences exist for a reason.”

“Yes. To keep you alone.” Her voice gentled. “To keep you safe from the pain of loss. But darling, you can't lose what you never allow yourself to have.”

I stared at the tactical maps, unable to meet her knowing gaze. “Harrison?—”

“Will still be there tomorrow. And the day after.” She rose with careful dignity, pausing at the door. “But men like Noah? Men who'll walk through fire for you, who'll betray yourtrust to save your life? They're rarer than you think. And they don't wait forever.”

She left me alone with that truth, and I hated her for it.

I found Noah by accident.Or maybe by design. I’d been avoiding the east wing for days, telling myself the shoulder would heal on its own. It wouldn’t. The stitches were too tight, the skin around them hot and aching. Infection wasn’t something I could out-stubborn.

I followed the sound of laughter. Not Noah’s—lighter, feminine.

It led me to the conservatory Sophia had converted into an art studio last winter. The light slanted gold across the tiled floor, catching on the edges of stacked canvases and ink-stained glass jars. And there they were.

Noah sat beside Isabelle’s wheelchair, both of them hunched over what looked like medical textbooks. But no—closer now, I saw the pages were anatomy plates. Antique. The kind you didn’t find in hospitals. The kind you inherited or stole.

“The detail is extraordinary,” Isabelle said, tracing a finger over a dissection. “Look how he captured the muscle striations. This isn’t just documentation—it’s obsession.”

“Disturbing obsession,” Noah said, his voice warm with the kind of curiosity that made my chest clench. “Beautiful and terrible at the same time.”

They moved around each other like this was normal. Comfortable. Easy. Like grief and darkness hadn’t shaped them both. Watching them made something inside me twist.

Why the hell was she here?

“You didn’t tell me she was visiting,” I said, my voice low as I stepped into the doorway.

Noah looked up. The smile slipped off his face like a mask. “Sophia arranged it. The hospital’s upgrading the air filtration in her wing. One-day visit. Nothing strenuous.”

“You brought her here?” I said, sharper than I meant to. “To Ravenswood?”

“She wanted to see the studio. Sophia approved it.”

I looked at Isabelle. She didn’t flinch.

“How much does she know?”

“Enough,” Noah said quietly.

I narrowed my eyes. “She knows what this place is?”

“She knows whatyouare,” Isabelle said, her tone flat.

The air went cold.

“You told her?” I asked.

“I didn’t need to,” Noah said. “She figured it out on her own.”

Isabelle wheeled herself a few inches closer, gaze steady on me. “I’m not naïve, Adrian. I grew up in hospitals and back rooms where people talked like patients weren’t listening. I saw the way your men moved. I know the difference between security and control.”

“You shouldn't be anywhere near this.”

“Maybe. But here I am.”

I looked at Noah again. “You trusted her with this?”

“I didn’t give her anything she didn’t already understand,” he said. “She’s not afraid of you.”