Beast Part 4:An Erotic Fairy Tale

By: Ella James



I step through the doorway from the showers into the hall, and there he is: Robert Ryan, pointing a gun at my head.

My synapses fire, registering his presence and working to make sense of it. My brain flips frantically through possibilities, and the first I entertain is that I’m dreaming. This thing with Angel—fucking her in solitary, after I’ve been ousted by the Agency—is nothing but a medicated dream.

I reach behind me, torn between hoping she’s there and praying she’s not.

My fingers touch soft skin, and my pulse goes haywire.

There’ve been times when Ryan came into my cell alone—with a syringe, with a club, with pepper spray—but this is different.

Angel is here.

I’ve got to protect her!

I kick the gun out of his hands, and it clatters to the floor behind him. His eyes bulge, and he lunges for me. My instinct is to dodge, but Angel is behind me. I’ve got to protect her! I hesitate a fraction of a second, and Ryan plunges a needle into my neck...

Tugged under and tossed backward. Static fills my head. My body tingles like I’m nothing but a bunch of dust, floating in a stream of sunlight.


There’s something going on! I try to look around, but all I see is white. White walls? White ceiling? Where am I?

My heart is flopping like a fucking fish. My lungs pump frantically, but I’m not getting any air. My head throbs and my chest feels too tight, but the rest of my body is still dust.

I drift beside her as she points the gun at Ryan.

Oh, her.

I blink up at her, and I feel tugged toward this pretty woman—Angel.

I want to cry, I shouldn’t cry but I could cry, because there’s something wrong—so wrong. I’m fucking worried—so fucking worried about what she’s doing here, but it’s hard to figure out what’s going on when my heart is beating so fast.

Milliseconds later, my body manages to process a little of whatever was in the syringe, and GAME ON, BABY.

I push up on my elbows, lifting my head and shoulders off the floor. I’m still numb, but I feel strong and powerful. Unbreakable.

I’m sitting up, pulling one knee up to my chest, marveling at how strange and indestructible I feel, when Angel’s face tightens, her outstretched arms jolt, and Ryan hits the floor in front of me in a spray of blood.


It’s spreading out around his ruined head, dark and thick. I’m on my feet before it touches me.

Somewhere vague and far away, I hear Angel sobbing and it troubles me. My dazed eyes bounce around the hall and find her on the floor right by me, clutching the gun and wailing.

I wrench it from her hands and rip the top of my jumpsuit off my shoulders, using it to wipe away her prints.


The words tumble into my mind before their meaning, leaving me grasping… Looking down at Angel.

There’s blood on her pretty face. From Ryan’s head. She’s really upset and HAWK HUNT.

I don’t—


A tidal wave of dread washed over me.

I remember something Mack, another of the solitary guards, told me recently. About how the new warden was uneasy about Ryan’s frequent visits, worried he’d get caught letting the DA fuck with me.

“He’s sorta a stickler,” the guard told me.

Which means when the new warden finds out what just happened, there’s gonna be a hawk hunt.

A hawk hunt is when trouble prisoners get killed. Usually when bad shit goes down, and the bosses need to cover their asses. Guilt and innocence don’t matter in a hawk hunt. Anybody involved in the incident—anybody who might tell a story that could cause the prison staff to get in trouble—is put down.

Angel is here. I’m here. Both of us can—will—blow this Ryan thing up.

Angel just did. I blink at the blood pooling around him, struggling to think.

The Agency was using him to take me out. If they hadn’t been, he’d never have been able to throw me down here into solitary. I had too much power for that before they turned on me.

But they wanted me out. They wanted Juarez in charge.

Rocker strolls out of the guard station. The cameras are off, so he didn’t see what happened, and the gunshot was silent, so he didn’t hear it either. It must’ve been Angel’s sobs that drew him away from computer solitaire.

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