The Billionaire's Beast

Rain pounded the blackened windows of the nightclub, lightning slicing the sky in jagged streaks. Inside, neon lights flickered across polished marble floors, bass-heavy music vibrating through the walls. But she didn't see any of it.

She was running.

Soaked from the downpour, heart slamming against her ribs, she burst through the back entrance like a ghost chased by fire. Her stilettos skidded on the wet tiles as she ducked into the empty hallway.

Breathing hard, she glanced over her shoulder.

No one.

Yet.

Her name was Raina Blake-twenty-four, orphaned, forged in survival. But even she wasn't ready for this. Blood stained her dress. Not hers. His. The man who had dragged her into the shadows and whispered things she never should've heard.

Now they wanted her dead.

She turned a corner-and slammed straight into something hard.

No-someone.

Her hands hit a wall of muscle beneath a drenched silk shirt. Arms snapped around her in reflex, strong, unrelenting. She looked up-and froze.

His eyes were pitch black.

Not dark. Not brown. Black.

And they glowed faintly in the dark.

"Easy," the man said, voice low and dangerous, like it had been soaked in smoke and secrets.

Raina shoved at him. "Let go of me-!"

He didn't.

"Who's chasing you?" he asked, as if he had the right to know.

She blinked up at him. His face was too perfect. Sculpted jaw. Hair wet and wild. A scar across his lower lip that somehow made him more terrifying.

Something in her gut twisted.

"I don't know who you are," she breathed, "but if you don't want to die tonight, let me go."

"I don't run," he said coldly. "I hunt."

He turned his head slightly, nostrils flaring, like he was-smelling her.

Then the gunshots came.

Three sharp pops in the hallway behind her.

"Shit," Raina gasped.

The man yanked her into a hidden alcove, slammed a panel shut, and plunged them into darkness.

"We don't have much time," she whispered, heart racing.

"You don't," he replied. "But you're with me now."

She spun on him. "You don't even know me."

He leaned close. "But I smelled the truth on you."

She shivered.

There was something... wrong about him. Or maybe too right in all the wrong ways.

"I don't want your help," she said, trying to push past.

His hand shot out, grabbed her wrist.

"You're bleeding," he said, gaze dropping to her side.

She followed his eyes and realized-she was.

The wound from the scuffle with the goon earlier had opened.

Suddenly, her legs buckled.

He caught her easily, lifting her into his arms like she weighed nothing.

"I didn't ask for a knight," she muttered.

"Good," he said. "I'm not one."

When she woke, it was to the sound of silence.

The bed beneath her was impossibly soft. She sat up slowly, glancing around.

Gothic windows. A fireplace. Old stone walls that didn't belong in a city penthouse.

Where the hell was she?

And then the door opened.

He walked in. Same black eyes. Same impossible confidence. But now he was dressed in tailored black slacks and a shirt unbuttoned just enough to make her forget how to breathe.

"Where am I?" she asked hoarsely.

"My home."

She scoffed. "What kind of billionaire lives in a medieval castle replica?"

He arched a brow. "The kind that's not fully human."

Silence stretched.

Raina stared at him. "What?"

He stepped closer, voice soft. "You heard something that night. Something you weren't supposed to. Now the entire Bratva is looking for you."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I lead them."

Her blood turned to ice.

"You're lying."

He didn't blink. "I'm the beast they fear. The one they send in when all else fails."

"You're their leader?"

"No," he said, with a dark smile. "I'm the one they can't control."

She backed up, but he didn't follow. "Why save me then?"

"Because the man you saw die that night was meant to kill me."

Raina felt the room spin.

He watched her carefully. "You and I... we were never supposed to meet. But fate? She's a cruel little thing."

She crossed her arms. "You expect me to trust you?"

"No," he said. "I expect you to survive."

A long pause.

"What's your name?" she asked finally.

He looked at her like the question mattered more than it should.

"Killian Volk."

She swallowed.

"You're going to help me?" she asked.

He took a step forward.

"No," he said. "I'm going to use you."

Her breath caught.

"But if you're smart," he added, "you'll use me right back."

And that's when she knew: she hadn't escaped the fire.

She'd walked straight into the inferno.