Page 96 of The Beast's Broken Angel

“Please—Adrian—I can’t?—”

“You can. Youwill.”

He reached beneath me and finally wrapped a fist around my cock.

One stroke.

Two.

“Now,” he whispered. “Come for me. Make a mess.”

I did.

I came so hard I nearly collapsed, body wracked with spasms as heat spilled across the desk. Adrian groaned behind me, slamming in one last time as he came with a deep, guttural noise, cock pulsing inside me.

We stayed like that for a breathless eternity—me panting against the wood, him pressed tight to my back, buried inside me.

Slowly, he untied my wrists. Turned me around.

Kissed me like he needed it to survive.

“You still trust me?” he asked.

“I never stopped.”

Harrison's officewas all dark wood and intellectual pretense. Antique medical diagrams. Books he probably never read. A very expensive desk that looked like it had never seen anything more corrupt than a ledger.

Bullshit.

“Adrian's slipping,” I said, settling into the chair across from him, just tired enough to sell it. “He's volatile. Reckless. Keeps talking like he's invincible. The Turner executions weren't about sending a message. He enjoyed it.”

Harrison offered me tea. I accepted. Might as well sip while selling my soul.

“I'm worried about Isabelle,” I added, watching his face. “He's protective, but it's more than that now. Controlling.”

“I always feared this would happen,” Harrison said, like he was trying to sound regretful. “Adrian's trauma is deep. Attachment becomes... dangerous.”

“I've been seeing things I probably shouldn't. Files, numbers, codes.” I leaned forward. “He leaves the safe open sometimes. When he's distracted.”

A flicker in Harrison's eyes. Hunger, barely contained. He leaned forward slightly.

“What kind of files?” he asked, voice carefully neutral but his body language screaming interest.

“Camden property access codes. Security protocols for the warehouse district. He's been planning something big there, talking about consolidating territory after the Turner elimination.” I let my voice shake slightly. “I think he's going to move against other families. Soon.”

Harrison's pupils dilated slightly. “When?”

“Tomorrow night,” I said, selling the lie with perfect conviction. “He's already arranged for his own people to handle security. Said he doesn't trust anyone else with something this important.”

The bait was perfect - Harrison's own stolen Camden properties, the ones he'd been using to funnel money for years. The thought of Adrian moving on them would force his hand.

“Noah,” Harrison said, leaning forward with fake paternal concern, “you're in real danger. Adrian's planning something that could destroy everything, including you and your sister.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, letting fear creep into my voice.

“I mean he's lost all perspective. If he's moving on Camden tomorrow night, he's declaring war on families that have been allies for decades. The retaliation will be swift and brutal.” Harrison's hands moved to his desk drawer. “I need those access codes, Noah. Tonight. Before he starts a war that gets everyone killed.”

Hook, line, and sinker.