“That’s good, right?” I said, tearing my gaze away to look at his brothers. My gaze settled on Shooter. “Right?” I asked again.
“Right,” Shooter replied. “It’s real good news.”
“Shut up,” Beast barked, making me flinch. “Don’t you fuckin’ talk to her.”
“Easy, Beast,” Rider placated.
I pulled out from under Beast’s arms so I could look up at him properly. “What’s wrong?” I searched his face for something, anything, but he gave nothing away. “Beast? You’re frightening me, please tell me,” I pleaded.
“You want to be accepted into the club? As his woman?” Shooter said, and I turned and nodded at him.
“Yes, more than anything.”
“Prez,” Beast warned.
“It’s the only way we’ll trust her again,” said Gauge, the bigger of the men, his cold stare on me.
“You,” Beast said, stepping forward and thrusting his finger out, “you shut your goddamned mouth before I shut you up permanently. She’s not doing it, end of.”
“Then she’ll never be fully trusted, brother,” Rider said, his gray-white beard looking out of place on him.
“Then I’ll take her and we’ll leave,” Beast said, and I saw the shock on everyone’s face at that.
I looked between them all, completely confused and frustrated by what was happening but determined that I wouldn’t be the one to make Beast lose his family.
“I’ll do it,” I said, and all eyes fell on me. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”
Beast gripped my arm and spun me to him. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Belle. You don’t even know what they’re asking of you.”
I shrugged out from under his grip. “I don’t care. This is your family, and you’re not leaving them because of me, and I’m not losing you, so whatever it is, I’ll do it. I was frightened and made the biggest mistake of my life, but I’m not scared anymore—not now that I’m with you.” I turned to face the men again, steeling determination in my tone as I looked them all over, my gaze finally landing on Shooter. “Tell me what I need to do.”
Shooter glanced over at Gauge and they seemed to have a silent conversation between themselves before Shooter finally looked at me again.
“You have to kill someone,” he said.
And the pieces clicked together.
“Mateo and Carlos,” I said, and I felt Beast put his hand on my back. I swallowed and nodded, thinking of all the pain they’d caused Beast. The scars, the cuts, the burns, the agony, how he almost lost his sight. How he almost couldn’t walk again. How he almost lost his life because of them. And I wasn’t afraid. “Okay,” I said with firm resolve.
“Just one of them—the other is for Beast,” Shooter said almost sympathetically, and I nodded okay again.
I felt sick at the thought. I hated them, but to take someone’s life… Yet I would do it. For him, I’d do it.
“Belle?” Beast said from behind me, and I turned to look at him. His expression was blank, devoid of the warmth I’d felt for the past day, and I worried that I’d just failed some test. Worried that my wrong answer meant my death, or worse. “Not just kill, babe,” he said, his hand cupping my face. “Torture and kill…while they film it.”
I stared at him in shock, my stomach flipping over and over and over.
Kill, I could just about do.
But torture and kill?
Could I do that?
Could I harm another person like that? Cause them pain over and over before finally putting them out of their misery?
I looked into Beast’s eyes and knew that I couldn’t lose him. I wouldn’t lose him, not after everything we’d been through.
“It’s okay,” I said, the word barely a whisper on my lips.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss on my lips and I tried not to shake, terrified of this awful thing they were making me do.
“It’s going to be okay,” he promised, but I wasn’t so sure it was going to be okay.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
~ BEAST ~
I’d never hated Shooter or Gauge or the rest of my family the way I did right then. It was almost level with my hatred for Mateo and Carlos, the two bastards that had tortured and almost killed me over a year before. The two bastards that had sent Echo to ground. The two bastards that were now strung up by their arms in the clubhouse basement, waiting for their punishment.
Belle was standing in the corner where she’d been for the past twenty-five minutes, too terrified of what she had to do to move. Both men were unconscious; every time they started to rouse I punched them back into silence, and I heard her whimper at my brutality. But it was the only way. I couldn’t let her do this alone; she had to know I was by her side every step of the way, and the simplest way to do that was to be by her side while we killed both of these men together.
She took a step forward, and Gauge and Rider stood to attention. Rider was filming it—evidence if she ever tried to turn on the club again—and I hated him for being a part of this, even if I knew why they were doing it.
In theory it was really fucking smart, and I would have done the same thing if the tables had been reversed on someone else. In reality it was fucking cruel.
Belle was a civilian. She was an innocent. She was purer than snow and more gentle than a damned butterfly. This would be a stain on her heart and soul.
Shooter was sitting on a crate next to Dom behind Mateo and Carlos, smoking a cigarette, waiting patiently for her to come to terms with this, and I hated him for that. Hated him for his calmness, for his patience. For his understanding.
Belle’s gaze found mine and I held a hand out to her. She walked toward me slowly, each step like it was her own death sentence. Her hand in mine, I pulled her close and kissed the top of her head, feeling her whole body trembling.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
She was trying to be strong, for me, her eyes like steel.
“You don’t have to do this. We can just leave, Belle.”
This was my family, but I’d leave them for her. I’d leave everything and everyone for her.
“I have to,” she whimpered, tears filling her eyes. “I have to, because I love you, Beast, and I don’t want to take your family away from you.”
It was like her own words solidified it for her, and she pulled away from me and headed over to Mateo. She stared at his unconscious form, hanging there, waiting for his execution, and I wanted to tell her that it would be okay, that she wouldn’t be haunted by the things she did next, but that would be a lie.
She turned to look at me, her face pale. “What do I do, Beast?” she asked, the words barely audible.
I walked to the table with my tools on it and looked over them all, trying to choose the simplest, easiest, and least bloody one for her—something that would inflict pain but not be too horrific or too gory—but they were all the same; they were all meant to inflict the biggest amount of pain, and each scream that she tore from Mateo would kill her a little inside.
I glared across at Shooter again, my nostrils flaring in anger at him for making her do this, even though I knew it wasn’t entirely his decision. It had been a club one.