Carrying the Beast Child
"But you want to. With your money. With your power. With your precious 'war' love."
His eyes flicked to mine.
"You're not a war," I whispered. "You're a plague."
For a second, I thought I saw something crack in him. Something deep.
Then he stood.
Tall. Dangerous. Quiet.
"I'll keep the diamond," he said, voice low and dangerous. "But if you ever need it—just one word, and it's yours. Along with the world."
He leaned forward.
"And Stella," he murmured, so close I could smell his cologne, "You can scream. Curse me. Throw your fire at me every damn day."
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