Page 120 of The Beast's Broken Angel

“Planning for you to have choices,” he corrected. “Options. Freedom to structure this however works best.”

Sophia slid a document across the table. Not a contract exactly, more like a partnership agreement. Medical consultant to Calloway Enterprises, with specific terms about autonomy, outside work, protection for Isabelle, and a dozen other details that showed how much thought had gone into it.

“This is...” I trailed off, reading throughprovisions that protected my independence while acknowledging our personal relationship.

“It's a starting point,” Adrian said carefully. “Everything's negotiable.”

“The money's insane,” I noted.

“Market rate for a specialist of your calibre,” Sophia interjected smoothly. “With danger pay appropriately calculated.”

“And this bit about residential arrangements?”

Adrian actually flushed slightly. “Optional. You could maintain separate quarters. If you prefer.”

“Do you want me to maintain separate quarters?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I want you to have the choice.”

I set the papers aside. “Can I be honest?”

“Please,” Sophia said, eyes sparkling with interest.

“I don't need a contract anymore. I'm not here for money or obligation or even Isabelle's treatment, though I'm grateful for all of that.” I looked directly at Adrian. “I'm here because this is where I want to be. With you. Fighting whatever comes next. Together.”

“Romantic declarations at dinner,” Isabelle commented. “How unexpectedly normal.”

“Nothing about this is normal,” I laughed.

“No,” Adrian agreed, his hand finding mine on the table. “But it's ours.”

Later, in his room—our room—I lay beside him processing how much had changed. Not that long ago I'd been a desperate brother willing to do anything to save Isabelle. Now I was... what? Lover to a crime lord? Medical consultant to a criminal empire? Partner to a man whose darkness matched my own?

All of the above, maybe.

“You could have had normal,” Adrian said into the darkness, reading my thoughts with uncanny accuracy. “The hospital job. Regular hours. Safety.”

“Normal was never really an option,” I admitted. “Not after seeing what you showed me. About myself. About what I'm capable of.”

“I corrupted you.” Guilt coloured his voice.

“No.” I turned to face him, needing him to understand. “You revealed me. The person I always was underneath. Someone who'll do terrible things for love. Someone who finds beauty in darkness. Someone who chooses the monster and doesn't regret it.”

“My broken angel,” he murmured, pulling me closer.

“Your partner,” I corrected. “In everything. The violence, the beauty, the impossible life we're building from blood and choices and stubborn refusal to let go.”

“I love you,” he said against my skin. “More than Harrison's programming said I could. More than I thought I'd survived enough to feel.”

“I love you too,” I replied. “Enough to drug you unconscious to save your life. Enough to give up normal forever. Enough to stay through whatever war is coming.”

His kiss was agreement and promise and something like salvation. Not redemption—we were both too far gone for that. But recognition. Acceptance. The kind of love that didn't save you from darkness but stood beside you in it, hand in hand, facing whatever monsters came next.

Together.

Always together.

The beast had found his broken angel, and the angel had chosen his beautiful monster, and somehow in the violence and chaos and impossible choices, we'd built something worth fighting for.