Page 45 of Awakening the Beast
I stand, placing my thumb and index finger between my lips and whistle loudly, startling her, but I side-eye the door to wait for one of my men.
When one appears, I address him firmly. “Take her wherever the fuck she wants to go and make sure it’s somewhere safe, no matter how far it is.”
He gives a slight nod, waiting for her to move, but when I look down at her again, she still appears untrusting, and who can fucking blame her? I wait patiently, although I can hear my men gunning the place to pieces in the background. I want to do this at her pace. She eventually stands on shaky legs and I watch as she wobbles toward the door before taking a last look back at me and leaving.
I glance away, the weight of Jasper’s eyes on me making my skin itch. I can feel him trying to read me, like he’s questioning whether I’ve actually got a soul inside me. Something he had never realized or seen before. And I get it. I’ve built a reputation as a ruthless bastard, the kind who doesn’t flinch when shit goes fucked. But deep down, somewhere hidden beneath the thick layers of brutality and power, I’ve still got lines I won’t cross. Even if the evil system I run forces me to dance all over the grey areas, I know what’s fucking wrong.
After a moment, I push the thoughts aside and get my head back in the game. I pull my gun out and pass Jasper. As we make our way down the hallway, the noise has died down, the panic fading.
Suddenly, one of my men approaches, urgency in his step. “Arlo, we found the stash.”
I arch a brow, nodding silently before following him, my curiosity piqued, as we step into a room that looks like something out of a low-budget crime flick. Chrome tables, neon lights, and heaps of cocaine piled up like fucking snow mounds.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot four women standing in just their underwear, covering their bare tits with their arms, horror drawn into their expressions. They’re cutters, clearly, here to break down the product. It’s something I’ve seen countless of times throughout the years. They’re often stripped to make sure they don’t fucking pocket anything. It’s a dirty game. Greedy. I can tell they didn’t choose this life, and it always pisses me off in a way I didn’t ever expect.
Without looking at them, I raise my voice. “Get them the fuck out of here. Let them go.”
A couple of my men spring into action without a second thought, leading the women out of the room. Turning my attention back to the table, I step closer, staring down at the stacks of white powder. It’s a small mountain, a fortune’s worth of product sitting there, waiting to be moved.
“Has it been tested?” I ask, my tone flat.
“Yeah, boss,” one of the guys answers. “It’s 98% pure.”
My eyebrows shoot up in mild surprise. Savannah was dealing with the real shit. I wasn’t expecting that.
“Pack it the fuck up,” I order.
They nod in sync, my command setting off a chain reaction as they begin packing up the cocaine. I’m about to light another cigarette when another man steps in.
“We found her, Arlo.”
The room stills for a second, a shift in energy that I can feel in my bones. I look at Jasper, a silent understanding passing between us. Then, without a word, I walk out, following to where Savannah’s hiding. We proceed up some stairs to the next floor, and when he stands outside a glowing red room, he holds out his arm to indicate she's inside.
I step into the room, my gun hanging loosely at my side, immediately locking eyes on Savannah curled beneath the sheets, as if they could somehow protect her from me. She looks terrified, but it’s Carter sitting beside her that sets me off. He’s the last person I wanted to see. The last person I thought would be here.
I pause at the foot of the bed, staring at them both, letting the tension thicken until it's suffocating. Neither of them says a word.
“Well, well, well,” I mutter, drawing out each word with bitter satisfaction.
I slowly raise my gun, pointing it at them. Their silence is telling—Savannah's eyes wide, Carter’s jaw clenched in boldness, but fear lurking beneath the surface.
“Get her the fuck out of here!” I bark, the command snapping through the quiet like a whip.
Two of my men immediately rush in, grabbing Savannah roughly by her arms. She screams, thrashing in their grip, her voice breaking as she calls out for Carter. He leaps up from the bed, his protective instinct kicking in, but I take a step forward,my gun aimed directly at him. He freezes, knowing better than to test me right now.
I watch him squirm as Savannah is dragged away, helpless to stop it. I can see in him how much she means to him. The way she cries out for him only confirms it. Not that it makes a fucking difference.
His furious eyes meet mine, seething with anger as he narrows them into a sharp glare. “You motherfucker. What do you want with her?”
I breathe in deeply before I answer coldly. “I want her dead.”
Carter moves faster than I expect, lunging at me, but I swing my gun hard, the butt crashing into his nose with a sickening crack. He staggers back, collapsing onto the bed, blood pouring from his face, soaking into the sheets as he groans in agony.
“You killed my fucking sister and now you want to kill my girl?”
Carter's words cut deep, deeper than I care to admit. The mention of his sister, my wife, his taunts—they slice through me, exposing parts of myself I thought I buried.
“For someone who claims he doesn’t hurt women, you are one big fucking hypocritical cunt, Arlo.”
