Page 91 of The Beast's Broken Angel

The way he said “we” without thinking about it sent warmth through my chest that had nothing to do with the physical satisfaction still humming in my veins. Noah was thinking like part of the team now, not just the bloke I'd coerced into medical service.

“Harrison thinks shagging you makes me weak,” I said, moving closer because I couldn't help myself, drawn by the magnetic pull that seemed to exist between us. “Reckons emotional attachment means he can manipulate me through you.”

“And does it?” Noah asked, though there was something careful in his voice, like he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. “Make you weak, I mean.”

“Probably,” I admitted, because lying seemed pointless after everything we'd shared. “But he's got it backwards. It's not weakness he should worry about.”

“What should he worry about?” The question was soft, curious, like he was trying to understand the machinery of my mind.

“That caring about you doesn't make me weak,” I said, letting him see the cold calculation in my eyes, the deadlypurpose that had kept me alive in a world built on violence. “It makes me fucking lethal. Because now I've got something worth protecting, something worth killing for.”

Harrison thought emotion was weakness, but he'd never understood the difference between weakness and vulnerability. Weakness could be exploited. Vulnerability properly channeled became the most dangerous weapon in existence.

“What's your timeline then?” Noah asked, leaning into my touch when I reached for him again, unable to resist the magnetic pull between us.

“Tonight,” I said, decision crystallizing with absolute clarity. “Harrison's getting cocky, making moves too fast. Time to remind the prick why my family's run this city for three generations.”

The anticipation was building now, the familiar cold excitement that preceded violence. Harrison had played his hand too early, revealed his position before he was ready to defend it. Classic amateur mistake from someone who thought he understood the game.

“What about Turner's crew?”

“Viktor's boys finished them off this afternoon,” I said with savage satisfaction, remembering the reports of professional elimination, bodies left as messages for anyone else considering challenges to Calloway authority. “Proper messy, lots of blood, exactly the kind of message that gets around fast in our circles.”

“He'll have backup plans,” Noah pointed out with the tactical awareness that continued to surprise me. “Blokes like him always do.”

“Course he does. That's why we're not waiting around for him to use them.” I pressed a kiss to his temple, breathing in the smell of his skin mixed with the lingering scent of our activities. “Twenty years to build his network, place his people. Every day we wait makes him stronger.”

The strategic thinking was sound. Harrison's network had been decades in the making, tentacles reaching into every aspect of London's criminal and legitimate power structures. Delay would only give him time to consolidate, to turn advantages into unassailable positions.

“So what d'you need from me?” The question was simple, but it meant everything. Noah was offering to get his hands dirty, to cross lines he'd never thought he'd cross.

“When Harrison comes calling, when he wants to cash in on your supposed agreement,” I said, voice rougher than I meant it to be, “I need you to play along. Make him think you're willing to sell me out.”

“Play the part of your weakness,” Noah said with a bitter laugh that held no real humor. “The soft spot he can exploit.”

“Can you do it?” I asked, studying his face for any sign of hesitation or doubt. “Convince him you'd betray me to keep your sister safe?”

Noah's grin was all teeth and street-smart cunning, the survivor showing through the healer's mask like steel beneath silk. “Adrian, I've been lying to dangerous bastards since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Harrison won't know what hit him.”

The confidence in his voice, the deadly competence hiding under that pretty face, sent heat racing through my veins that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with recognition. This was the Noah who'd kept his family alive through pure stubborn will, who'd learned to play dangerous games before most kids learned to tie their shoes.

This was the man I was falling for.

The thought hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest, sudden and devastating and absolutely fucking terrifying. Love. Not just wanting him, not just the thrill of possession, but proper love. The kind that makes you stupid, makes you vulnerable,makes you willing to burn the world down to keep someone safe.

Fuck.

“Adrian?” Noah's voice cut through my internal panic like a blade through fog. “You've gone a bit pale there. Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” I lied, because what was I supposed to say? That I'd just realised I was completely gone on him? That Harrison was right about emotional attachment being a weakness, and I'd just handed my worst enemy the perfect weapon? “Just thinking through the plan.”

But as I looked at Noah's face, marked up from our activities, eyes bright with intelligence and dangerous loyalty, I knew I was proper fucked. Harrison was right about one thing, caring about someone made you weak.

The question was whether it made you weak enough to get killed.

“One more thing,” Noah said as he headed for the door, then stopped and turned back with that professional expression that meant medical business. “I checked on Dominic this morning. Stubborn git's healing faster than expected, but he's pushing too hard in physio.”

I raised an eyebrow, grateful for the distraction from my own psychological revelation. “How hard?”