The Labyrinth (Monsters of New York), page 1
EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2025 Beth D. Carter
ISBN: 978-0-3695-1281-9
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Lisa Petrocelli
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. No AI Training permitted.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
The Labyrinth (Monsters of New York)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Monsters of New York is a sizzling paranormal romance series where passion collides with danger in the heart of the city that never sleeps. Each book introduces a new, irresistible shifter—each with its own dark secrets and primal desires. From wolves and bears to elusive creatures lurking in the shadows, these powerful beings navigate love, loyalty, and mystery in a world filled with human and supernatural monsters.
Set against the backdrop of New York's vibrant streets and hidden corners, every romance is an unforgettable journey where forbidden love and heated encounters could be the death of them—or the one thing that saves them. With danger always just around the corner, the shifters must face not only the threats of their own kind but the intense pull of a love that could change everything.
Uncover the secrets, feel the heat, and discover if love can tame the wildest beasts in Monsters of New York.
DEDICATION
Thanks to Evernight.
THE LABYRINTH
Monsters of New York
Beth D. Carter
Copyright © 2025
Chapter One
Marion glanced up at the neon sign that read, THE GIN ROOM. She consulted her notes once more before entering. Soulful jazz tones greeted her, laying a swank undertone to the rich atmosphere. Warm lighting gave the room an intimate hug. It was the type of bar she could see herself visiting quite a lot, but she wasn’t there to drink and relax. As she waited for the bartender to come over, she got the sensation of being watched. She looked to her left, and the patrons sitting there quickly turned their heads away, as if embarrassed to be caught. She then looked to her right and the same thing happened.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
Marion startled. “Uh, vodka martini, please.”
“Coming right up.”
She could’ve sworn his eyes flashed with a greenish glow. The next instant it was gone. Marion decided she must have imagined it. While he moved away to make her drink, she pulled out a photo from her journal. Peter’s smiling face stared at her from the glossy finish, causing her heart to ache. They’d grown up together in a small, midwestern town where nothing exciting happened. She didn’t blame Peter for running as far away from there as possible, but when he stopped texting and calling her, she knew something was wrong.
“Here you go,” the bartender said as he set the martini down.
She handed over her credit card, then took a sip of her drink while he ran her card. He gave her an impersonal smile when he came back.
“Thanks,” she said, then held up Peter’s photo. “Do you remember this man?”
The bartender studied the picture. “No, sorry. I see too many people to remember a one-time visit.”
After he swiped her card and handed it back, Marion pushed more. “He said he liked this bar a lot.”
“You his wife or something?”
“No,” she replied. “A family friend. He hasn’t been in touch with me or them for a few weeks.”
The bartender took the photo and studied it carefully. Then, for one quick second, his gaze flickered to something behind her before returning to the picture. He shook his head.
“No, sorry.”
Marion had a strong feeling he wasn’t telling the truth. “Are you sure? Please. His family and I are worried.”
The bartender shrugged then moved away to serve customers. Irritation filled her, and she huffed as she looked around the bar. In the corner, a man watched her. Even sitting, Marion could tell he was a large man with broad shoulders. One arm was slung across the back of the booth while the other held a glass of something amber colored.
Was this who the bartender looked at? Maybe he was a regular. If so, he might have seen Peter. Walking over, she maintained eye contact and stopped in front of his table.
“Hi,” she said. “My name is Marion.”
One dark eyebrow rose. “Hello, Marion. I’m Deacon.”
This close, she could see the silver threading through his dark hair. He looked older than her, maybe fifteen years or so. His olive skin tone held a natural warmth, and his dark eyes had an intensity that caused butterflies to dance through her belly. She’d seen pretty men before, but his intensity was something else.
“Are you a regular here?”
“I am,” he said.
Marion held out Peter’s photo. “I’m searching for this man, and I was wondering if you’ve seen him.”
The man’s cool gaze settled on the picture then flickered back to her. “No.”
She blew out a pent-up breath. Like the bartender, this man gave off vibes that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. Or maybe she was just grasping at straws.
“Okay,” she replied. “Thanks.”
Holding Peter’s photo, she made her way around the bar, asking the patrons. All replied no. Frustration rolled over her in waves. Peter’s letters mentioned other places. Guess she’d have to canvas those places as well. When she looked back at Deacon, she discovered his gaze hadn’t left her, only now he had another man sitting with him talking and gesturing. When he followed Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Brooding’s sightline, he paused and frowned.
Deacon said something to him, swallowed the rest of his drink, and set the glass down before rising. Her first assessment had been accurate. He stood at least six foot five. Muscles upon muscles, but not in the gross steroid way. In the this-man-is-totally-hot-and-I’d-fuck-him-ten-ways-to-Sunday-and-back kind of way. Everything about him screamed danger. He left The Gin Room, as well as his guest, and never looked back. Marion hurried through the place and flew out the door, but when she hit the sidewalk, he had vanished.
A gut feeling told her Deacon knew something. She would have to stake out The Gin Room and await his return.
****
Deacon watched the pretty woman move through the crowd, showing the picture of her friend around. She hadn’t a clue she walked among countless shifters, pulled straight from many
fantasy stories. Or in his case, mythology. He liked how the silk strands of her dark hair brushed against her perfect heart-shaped ass.
Then his view was obstructed by the number one most annoying dickhead he knew—Delaram. The hyena gave a high-pitched laugh as he sat down.
“Deacon, man, how ya been?”
He gave a mental sigh. “What do you want, Delaram?”
“You know I always come to you first whenever I get something interesting.”
“Yeah? What interesting thing have you got?”
Delaram leaned closer and looked around like he was afraid someone was listening. “I intercepted a cache of weapons. I’m talking about everything from nine mils to explosives.”
“What makes you think I need human weapons?”
“I’m just looking for the right buyers. Let me come to your fight night and I’ll cut you a deal.”
For a millisecond, Deacon considered it. Big pockets attended his underground fights, so it could be a lucrative investment. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a red card. Printed on the card was a black circle with a half circle on top, representing the zodiac design for Taurus. Delaram’s eyes lit up. He reached for the card, but Deacon held it aloft, pinning the hyena with a cold stare.
“I want fifty percent.”
Delaram’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What? No way. I’ll lose a lot of profit.”
“You came to me because you know my reach is far greater than anything you can accomplish on your own.” Deacon knew he was being a dick, but his time was worth fifty percent.
Delaram’s eyes flickered for a moment, glowing like a damn cat. His upper lip curled.
“You’re an asshole.”
Deacon shrugged. “I never said otherwise.”
“Fine,” Delaram grunted, the word slipping past his teeth like it was pried out of him.
Deacon gave him the card. “Pleasure doing business.”
He stood, gave one more glance to the pretty human still working the room, and had to admire her dedication. Too bad he’d never see her again.
Chapter Two
The next coup
Dead ends.
The Gin Room kept dominating her thoughts, especially that man Deacon. So, that evening, she headed back there, got a beer, and settled where she could wait for him. Over the next few hours, she nursed her beer, and when Deacon showed up, she snapped to attention. A server placed an amber drink on his table, even though Marion never saw him order it, reenforcing her gut feeling he was a regular. He sat alone, and no one bothered him as he took his sweet time and enjoyed his drink. The other man from the other night never appeared.
When he rose, she was ready. Clinging to the shadows, she stayed behind him as he left the bar and headed down the street. He seemed to meander, so she stayed as close as possible as to not lose him but far enough away so he wouldn’t feel her presence. It surprised her when he entered Central Park, walking past the large vertical map at the entrance.
Despite being in the center of the busiest city in the world, the park offered a quiet oasis. Deacon now walked with purpose. When he veered off the path, he hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. She stood completely still in the dark reach of a tree.
Her heart thundered until he continued with a determined stride. Her brain warned her that she was following a stranger into a dark place without anyone knowing where she was headed. He could kill her, rape her, and no one would come to save her. The logical thing would be to back off and regroup. The Lucifer on her shoulder reminded her that he might know where Peter is, and the damn devil wouldn’t let that go. So, she took a deep breath and plunged forward.
Deacon wove more and more through the darkness, until he came to a set of stairs, disappearing down them. She caught his large frame heading into a tunnel and made sure to tread quietly as she followed. At the end was another set of stairs that descended even further. The air held a dampness that turned the night downright chilly, and she was fairly certain she was under the lake, although how that could be she didn’t know. Maybe it was part of Narnia or something, because she felt like she was entering a fantasy world. The only light lay at the end of the tunnel, and she hoped she didn’t trip on something.
When she reached the end, a hand came around from behind and settled over her mouth, blocking her scream. Another arm encircled her waist to cage her against his body. She was hauled backward and held tight. Marion thrashed, but it was no use. He was too powerful.
“What are you doing down here, Marion?” Deacon asked, his voice velvet smooth.
She struggled since she couldn’t answer the damn question. Fear flooded her brain, and she fought as much as she could while being restrained. Was this how Peter disappeared? Did Deacon harm him? Her heart thundered so hard she could barely hear anything else.
“If I take my hand off your mouth, do you promise not to scream?” he asked. “Things could get a little messy if you do.”
Was that a threat?
Did she have a choice?
She settled and nodded, letting him know she would behave. For now.
His hand slowly lifted off her mouth, although the other still locked around her waist, pinning her back to his front.
“I know you did something to Peter.” Her voice warbled a little, and she hated showcasing her fear.
“I take it your friend is a grown man. If he wants to disappear, that’s his prerogative.”
The words slapped her on the face. “You hurt him, didn’t you?”
“This place is not for you, little girl.” His voice was guttural. Dangerous.
What the hell had she been thinking? It was too late now. He had her. Fear drove her to try to escape and once more she struggled against his arm. She would fight until there wasn’t any strength left because she would never just lay down and die.
“Stop it!” he snapped.
“Never.”
“I’m not sure if you’re brave or stupid.” He let out a harsh snort that blew her hair. “I have nothing to say about Peter, so go home, Marion, and forget this place.”
“No, I—”
He spun her around, bending until his face pushed into hers. “You will, because if you don’t, I can’t guarantee your safety. Let me spell it out. You. Will. Get. Hurt.”
For a split-second, she would’ve sworn the sclerae of his eyes disappeared, leaving him with full black eyes. Perhaps it was a trick of the darkness, but it unnerved her.
“Let me go,” she whispered. Begged. “Please.”
“You will leave here and never return. Understand?”
She nodded, knowing in the back of her mind she had her fingers crossed. She’d go, but this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. If she’d been hesitant before, she now firmly believed that Deacon knew about Peter—either his whereabouts or what happened to him—and she wasn’t going to rest until she learned all the secrets.
When he let her go, she ran from him. Back to civilization. Back to her hotel. Not stopping until she slammed closed the door to her room. Her lungs burned. She’d wait till daylight, and then she would find out what Deacon was hiding.
Chapter Three
By the morning, she had a semi-solid plan.
Dressing quickly and grabbing her backpack, she returned to Central Park to retrace her steps. In the light of day, everything looked different and the hunting ground was humongous. The first thing she did was go back to the vertical sign, then slowly followed the path to the best of her ability. Several times, whenever she came to a fork or where the trail spilt, she had to choose a way that turned out to be the wrong one and she’d double back.
As evening approached, she finally saw the right bridge. Satisfaction gripped her when she explored around it and found the stairs. Truth be known, if she hadn’t been actively searching, she’d have been hard-pressed to find the damn thing. Which blew her mind since they were in the largest city in the US, with eight million people running around. How did anything stay hidden?
Treading carefully, she walked through the tunnel and found the second set of stairs. This was the point where Deacon had ambushed her, so she glanced around to see if he was lying in wait, which of course he wasn’t. She faced a very large, sealed-off drainage pipe, which confused her the most. Her hunt seemed to have come to an end, but she was certain she was in the right place. Had he deliberately led her off course?
Huffing out a breath, anger burned through her veins. Instead of giving up, however, she was even more determined to learn Deacon’s secret. She didn’t know why—call it a gut instinct—but she was convinced he knew where Peter was, or at least knew what happened to him.
Suddenly, a noise came from behind the drainage pipe grate. Looking around, she saw a dense thicket off to the side and hurried to conceal herself. The grate opened, like a hinge door, and two big men dressed in black exited. Elation gripped her because she knew this was Deacon’s secret. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Peter was wherever that pipe led, and she was determined to get in there.
The two men had paused, one taking out a pack of cigarettes. Guess a smoke break outside was a necessity in whatever situation. However, once he crushed the cigarette out, they didn’t go back inside. Instead, they stayed at the entrance, like they were guarding something. Marion knew she had to get past them, but she couldn’t figure out how. Would the clichéd rock-throw divert their attention?
A laugh reverberated down the tunnel and the two men straightened. From her hiding spot, she watched as a short man and two women approached. The women were dressed very scantily, hanging off the man’s arm, and they all stepped up and flashed them a red card. One of the guards scanned it with a phone then gave them a nod and allowed them into the pipe.
What the fuck?
After that, a steady stream of people came through, and Marion knew she had to make her move soon. Her chance arrived as a large group appeared. She hoped the darkness would help hide what she was about to do. As the group entered the pipe, the guards’ attention turned to another visitor, so she took the opportunity to leave her hiding place and blend into the group. A woman glanced at her in confusion, her nose scrunching up like a bunny, as if she scented something foul. Marion lifted her chin and gave her a smile, as if she deserved to be there. Her grandmother always said, if you’re not in a place you’re supposed to be, just act like you should be and no one would question it. Seemed like Grammy Julia was absolutely right.
