Page 10 of A Promise of Forever (The Vallaverse #3)

Forrest

I wake before dawn, just like I have every day for the past fifteen years, but something feels different.

There's an awareness humming through my body, a hypervigilance that has nothing to do with business threats or territorial disputes.

Sterling is somewhere in my house, probably awake and terrified, and every instinct I possess is tuned to his well-being.

The realization should disturb me. I've built my entire adult life around emotional detachment, around the kind of cold calculation that keeps our organization profitable and our enemies far away from our business or dead, preferably dead.

But lying here in my own bed, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, all I can think about is whether Sterling got any sleep last night.

“Fuck,” I groan as I slip from my bed and trample down the hall toward the kitchen.

In less than twelve hours, I’m beginning to see how many things I changed from my parents, how many things I didn’t understand when they were alive make sense now.

The upstairs rooms were reserved for guests, the far wing reserved for my Omega father, and the bedrooms on the main level reserved for family because they were closer to the offices, which is where I put the room I currently live in.

But now, it’s nearly on the opposite side of the house from Sterling and I fucking hate being that far.

I huff out a sigh as I swipe a small plate of bacon and fresh cantaloupe from the fridge, mumbling a greeting to my brother, who’s in my house once again.

He looks up from his tablet, grinning with a mouthful of eggs.

"Well, this is new," Caelan grins. "I don't think I've seen you cook anything more complicated than coffee since we were teenagers. "

His Valla, Bryn, another one of my men sits on his other side, feeding Caelan another bite.

Caelan happily takes another bite and I just stare, disgusted at how happy they are in their domestic moment.

Their pack spends most of their time here since both Caelan and Bryn work for the family, their Omega, Astra, lounging around or picking up small hobbies as he sees fit. “Where is Astra?”

“Teaching a painting class,” Bryn states before eyeing the bacon on my plate. “You making some for everyone?”

I snort, just shaking my head. “I swear to fuck that having a brother who can’t cook and a brother-in-law who burns water is some karma I don’t deserve.

” I plate them up on a raised rack before shoving them into the oven and then start on making a fresh batch of scrambled eggs.

Just a quick something that Sterling should be able to stomach before I figure out my next step.

"How's the new Omega settling in?" Caelan asks casually, though I can hear the genuine concern underneath his light tone. He leans forward, placing his hands beneath his chin. Bryn purrs at that and I just sigh, wondering if that’s what I looked like yesterday.

Every little thing Sterling did made me want to smile.

"He's trying," I tell him, which is technically true even if it doesn't capture the full scope of what Sterling is dealing with. It’s going to be a long fucking road, especially with someone like Wilson on his ass.

Caelan hums as he sits up a little straighter, giving me his full attention. “Brother, your Omega, from what little I saw wasn’t just scared. And from the whispers of your staff? He was broken, Forrest. What the fuck did Wilson do to him?”

“Don’t fucking remind me,” I lash out, cracking an egg into a pot.

Marcus steps up to my side and I wave him off, some part of me needing to make this for my Omega.

I don’t even know why, but if it’s not from me this morning, I don’t want to give it to Sterling.

A small rumbling growl has me looking up at Bryn, the Valla obviously glaring at me with something to say. “Out with it, Bryn.”

"He needs more than just a cozy room and three meals a day," Bryn pushes out.

"Omegas need to be nurtured, given attention and affection.

The worst thing you can do is ignore him and let him think he's just another houseguest you're tolerating out of obligation. You might think it’s better than the pain, but neglect can be so much worse. "

I sigh, moving the eggs with perhaps more force than necessary. "I should never have taken him in. I don't know the first thing about caring for an Omega, especially one who's been abused. I'm going to fuck this up and make everything worse."

The admission tastes bitter in my mouth.

I'm used to being competent, to understanding every situation I enter and having clear strategies for success.

But Sterling's needs are completely outside my area of expertise, and the learning curve feels a little out of my wheelhouse.

Unfortunately, every fucking time he looked at me, I felt like I needed to give him the world.

"But you did take him in," Caelan points out, softening his tone.

"And I know you did it partly to stick it to that bastard cop who stormed into your office.

But you also did it because some part of you recognizes that Omega as yours.

You wouldn't have protected him otherwise.

" My brother places a hand on Bryn’s chest to keep him from reacting, the Valla a little overprotective for my tastes.

I understand it when those instincts are toward an Omega, but my brother is an Alpha and I have no idea how that dynamic works.

I narrow my eyes at the way Bryn relaxes beneath Caelan’s hand and then grabs a piece of toast to feed my brother. What. The. Fuck. If I hadn’t seen Bryn nearly rip someone’s arm out of their socket, I would think he was just a teddy bear for decoration because Jesus Christ.

"A Valla never protects unless it's his," Caelan continues, echoing something our father used to say.

"Their nature doesn't work that way. They don't waste resources on strangers, don't risk themselves for people who don't belong to them.

The fact that you claimed Sterling means your instincts already made the choice, even if your brain hasn't caught up yet. "

I didn't claim Sterling because it was strategically advantageous, even if that’s what I told myself yesterday. I claimed him because every protective instinct I possess roared to life the moment I smelled his terror, because something in me recognized him as mine before I even saw his face.

I grab some toast from the rack and add it to the tray I'm preparing, along with a heap of scrambled eggs. I twist around to glare at the oven and realize it’s not worth it to wait for that.

If Sterling is up for it, I’ll bring it to him later.

"What did you find on Wilson?" I ask, changing the subject before Caelan can dig any deeper into my psychological motivations.

Caelan's expression darkens immediately.

"Nothing good. The man's a predator with a badge, and he's been getting away with it for years.

Internal Affairs has had multiple complaints filed against him for excessive use of force, particularly against Omegas.

Sexual assault allegations that mysteriously disappeared, domestic violence calls to his apartment that never resulted in charges. "

My hands clench around the tray hard enough that my knuckles lighten a few shades.

Bryn cuts in, swiping another piece of toast to feed Caelan, who politely refuses.

"He's divorced, no kids, lives alone in a shitty apartment downtown. He’s been caught drinking at a cop bar called Murphy's most nights after his shift.

Single-minded obsession with what he calls 'discipline' for Omegas who don't know their place.

The man's a walking lawsuit waiting to happen, if someone had the resources to go after him properly.

" Bryn raises a brow, edging me toward the opportunity without explicitly saying anything.

"We'll deal with Wilson. But first, I need to make sure Sterling is stable enough to handle the fallout.

" I finish arranging the breakfast tray, adding a glass of orange juice and some medication that might help with his injuries.

When I knock on Sterling's door, there's no answer. The silence makes me concerned, and after a moment of debate, I push open the door, even more worried that it’s not locked.

I would have assumed someone like Sterling would have barricaded himself in here.

The sight that greets me stops me cold.

Sterling is pressed into the corner of the room, surrounded by the expensive blankets I provided but clearly having not slept a wink.

His eyes are wide and bloodshot, darting between me and the door like he's calculating escape routes.

The untouched soup from last night sits congealing on the table beside the bed, a testament to just how overwhelmed he must have been.

My heart breaks a little at the picture he makes. All that luxury, all those expensive furnishings, and he's chosen to huddle on the floor because it must feel safer or more familiar than the comfortable bed I provided.

Sterling flinches away from the breakfast tray when I hold it out, his whole body curling tighter into itself like he expects to be punished for not appreciating my earlier offerings.

The response is so visceral, so deeply ingrained, that I realize I'm dealing with trauma that goes far deeper than I understood.

I set the tray carefully on the floor between us and sink down to sit cross-legged, making myself as non-threatening as possible.

I’m not sure it does much with my bulk but it’s all I’ve got.

"Can you eat a little something, sweetheart?” I reach for the toast and offer it to him, Sterling staring at it for several seconds before shaking his head.

His fingers tighten around the silk sheet he’s clinging to, my mind running through every possibility but nothing makes any sense.

So, I try something different.

I take a bite.

His eyes widen a little and then he leans forward, an almost unconscious movement as I offer it to him again.

His scent sweetens just enough that I know he’s interested, those gorgeous brown eyes softening as he reaches to steal it from me.

The first bite seems to unlock something in him.

His shoulders relax a fraction, and some of the wild panic in his eyes recedes.

I take another bite of my own food, then offer him more, establishing a rhythm that feels natural despite the strangeness of the situation.

Sterling takes the offered food more readily now, color returning to his pale cheeks.

He’s like a skittish little bird, a dove that just needs to spread his wings.

He holds his hand out for more and this time, I don’t take a bite.

I just hand him another piece of toast after scooping a small section of scrambled eggs onto it.

His cheeks flush with the offering, Sterling stuffing the entire thing into his mouth.

“Thank you, sir,” he murmurs as he chews, the Omega leaning forward a little more, his body language gradually becoming less defensive.

When I hold out my hand, palm up and completely still, he surprises me by leaning closer and running his nose along my skin, breathing in my scent like it's his lifeline.

"I'm safe here," he mumbles against my palm, the words so quiet I almost miss them.

"Yes, little dove. Yes, you are."

He curls back into his corner after that, but something has shifted between us.

The air feels less charged with fear, his eyes searching mine, his cheeks still puffed with food.

I almost want to call him ‘little dove’ again, to see him flush with that shy pink color again but I refrain. There will be more time for that later.

"Do you not like the bed?" I ask, genuinely curious about his choice to sleep on the floor.

Sterling's gaze flicks to the massive mattress and then back to me. "The room is too big."

I glance around, wondering how much I thought I knew about Omegas and how much of it is actually wrong.

Everything I thought would be comforting has probably been making his anxiety worse.

"I'll find you something smaller," I promise, already mentally cataloging the other bedrooms in the house.

There's a smaller room on the same wing that might feel safer to him.

"Feel free to roam around the house today and get comfortable with the layout.

No one will bother you unless you ask for help.

If you need something, let any of the staff know and they'll find me or get it for you.

I'll work on getting you a phone so you can call if there's an emergency. "

Sterling nods, watching me with those wide, dark eyes that seem to catch everything.

"Right, clothes," I add, realizing he's still wearing the pajamas I provided last night. "I'll have some options brought in, different sizes until we figure out what fits properly. Anything else you need?"

He shakes his head, but I can see him processing the offer, like he's not used to anyone asking what he wants or needs.

"Finish the food," I tell him as I head toward the door.

"You need the strength. And there's a whole kitchen downstairs if you want something else.

Just ask someone to make it for you." Without giving him a chance to say anything else, I stalk out into the hallway, my heart beating just a little too fast, my control slipping just a bit more than I’d like.

Caelan and Bryn said to nurture but what the fuck does that even mean?

Out in the hallway, I stop and look down at my hand where Sterling touched it, where his scent still lingers faintly on my skin.

The contact was minimal, barely more than a brush of his nose against my palm, but it's branded into my memory like a claim. Mine. There’s no doubt, now.

But I can’t cancel my meetings to spend time with him.

He’d most likely freak out and I’d go stir crazy.

I can’t drag him around with me either. He doesn’t seem all that receptive of anyone else and I don’t want to stress him out.

Not knowing what to do with the one person who has my attention is fucking with me.

I can’t protect what I don’t understand.

However, I can destroy the man who hurt him.

Which means I need Caelan in my office. Immediately.