Page 33 of Beauty

My eyes widen, and I mutter, “The hole?”

Dave hits me on the head. “Don’t fucking backtalk.”

The guards shove me around and into the hallway, back to that same door I recognize all too well. But there’s no sign of Lex anywhere, so I assume he’s really gone.

Why?

I gasp.

Did they find my father?

In my mind, the image of my father with a bloodied face, lying on the floor, begging for his life while Lex holds a gun to his head keeps appearing.

But the wreck of emotions that would’ve washed over me before are now dull. Muted.

I feel … very little.

Even though he used to be my papa. My father.

The man I used to look up to.

But now? There’s nothing but regret.

I’m shoved down into the basement again, waltzing down the steps with a heavy heart.

Until I spot Beast.

My heart skips a beat a the sight of him hanging by four thick, metal clasps screwed into the wall, his head tilted forward, his body almost lifeless. I can barely contain my emotions.

The guard pushes me forward and then opens the cell door. “Get inside.”

I do what he says without much resistance.

Not because I don’t want to fight them, I do, even when I know I’ll never win.

But because I want to see Beast myself, up close.

The guard quickly unlocks my hands and steps outside.

Tears well up in my eyes, and I don’t even notice the guard shutting the door and walking up the stairs. All I can focus on is the fact that he’s here in the flesh.

Even though he seems far from actually being alive.

“Beast?” I mutter, tears fluttering against my eyelashes.

His emerald eyes flash just the way they did the first time we met, when I was hiding underneath that piano, deathly afraid of what might happen to my father and me.

But now … now I’m simply relieved.

“Aurora …” he murmurs, raising his head to meet my gaze.

And I can no longer stop the tears from freely rolling down. “You … you’re really alive.”

Without thinking, I run to him and wrap my arms around his body to feel the warmth and comfort. Home.

He groans in agony, and I immediately pull back, gasping in shock that I actually did that. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Youcan’t… hurt me.” His face is a mixture of calmness and pure and utter misery, as though he’s trying to give me the best version of himself despite his pain.