Page 32 of A Promise of Forever (The Vallaverse #3)

Forrest

I descend the stairs with barely controlled violence thrumming through every muscle in my body.

Bryn is on one side and Thea on the other, both of them radiating the kind of calm alertness that comes from years of handling situations exactly like this.

Thea peels off toward one of the back rooms, most likely to settle a few outstanding bets and make sure the financial side of tonight's operations continues smoothly despite the disruption.

I head toward the small office we reserve for private meetings and enforcement actions, the kind of conversations that can't happen in public spaces.

When Caelan mentioned that someone in the locker rooms had been found with one of the new Omega heat drugs on them–Bloom and a fucking steroid called Red Line, I was almost certain he had to be mistaken.

After what happened with Dorian, I didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to bring contraband into my establishment.

But sure enough, someone proved me wrong.

The heat drugs are particularly disgusting because they override an Omega's natural cycle, forcing their body into heat regardless of their actual biology or consent.

It's chemical coercion, and I have zero tolerance for anything that compromises an Omega's agency.

I step into the office where two of my most trusted security guards are standing on either side of a cocky-looking Alpha who's trying very hard to maintain an air of bravado.

But the moment I enter the room, the cockiness crumbles and genuine terror floods his expression.

His scent shifts from aggressive posturing to fear so sharp it's almost tangible in the small space.

I chuckle, the sound dark and completely devoid of humor. "Oh, good, fear. I was wondering if you were capable of feeling that. Now, Alistair, tell me why you thought it was reasonable to bring that shit into my club."

Alistair's mouth opens and closes a few times, but no sound comes out.

One of the guards grunts and steps forward, leaning in to whisper something in my ear.

The information he shares makes my entire body fill with rage so intense that my vision actually goes red around the edges.

Without thinking, without any conscious decision to move, I throw a punch that connects solidly with Alistair's jaw.

The Alpha stumbles backward, blood already streaming from his split lip, and I advance on him with murder in my eyes.

"You mean to tell me that not only did you defy my explicit rules about drugs in my establishment, but you also took advantage of an Omega?" My voice comes out as a snarl. "In my fucking club? Under my protection?"

Alistair cowers, all pretense of toughness completely abandoned. He reaches up to wipe the blood from his mouth, making sounds that might be attempts at explanation or apology, but I'm not interested in hearing excuses.

"I'm on a strict no-killing policy at the moment," I say, forcing my voice into something resembling control. "But this is still going to hurt considerably. Just answer me this first: where is the Omega you dosed?"

The other guard steps forward, his expression grim. "One of the Beta staff members helped her to the hospital about twenty minutes ago. They'll give us an update once we know more about her condition. It shouldn't be traced back to our establishment, but..."

I shake my head, cutting off his concern about liability and legal exposure. "I don't care about that. Give me an update on the Omega's condition the moment you know more. Her well-being is the only thing that matters right now."

I turn to Bryn, who's been watching the entire exchange with the kind of predatory stillness that means he's ready to explode into violence at my command. "Bryn, grab Lorcan for me, can you?"

Bryn's expression shifts into something that might be amusement mixed with anticipation. "How slowly would you like me to retrieve him?"

The question is his way of asking how much time I want alone with Alistair before backup arrives. How much private enforcement I want to handle personally before bringing in our official executioner.

"Make it three, no, five minutes," I decide, already planning exactly how I want to spend that time. "I want to have a little fun first."

Bryn nods and leaves with what might be a spring in his step. He understands the need for controlled violence as stress relief, especially when someone has committed an offense this egregious.

I blow out a deep breath, trying to center myself and remember the boundaries I've established.

Both Bryn and I have been told by our Omegas not to kill anyone.

I still remember when Astra cried bloody murder after discovering that Bryn had taken someone's life during an enforcement action.

The tears and panic attacks lasted for days until Bryn promised to be more careful about what Astra was exposed to.

Interestingly, Astra somehow still gets off on knowing that Bryn has a violent streak that exceeds even mine.

So long as Bryn doesn't actually kill anyone in front of Astra or come home covered in obvious evidence of lethal force, the Omega is happy.

The violence itself doesn't bother him as long as it stays within certain boundaries.

And now Sterling feels the same way. To a point. He told me he doesn't want me to kill for him, but he didn't say I couldn't hurt people who deserve it. The distinction matters, creating a framework I can work within.

Lorcan, though, definitely gets off on watching the light fade from these fuckers' eyes, and he doesn't care in the slightest who knows about his preferences.

He's never taken a mate because he claims no Omega or Beta would tolerate his particular brand of violence.

Which makes him the perfect person to handle situations where permanent solutions are required.

The Alpha stands up as my guards move to position themselves at the entrance, ready to prevent any interruption or escape attempt. I stalk closer to Alistair, letting him see exactly how much danger he's in.

"So you never answered my questions," I muse. "Tell me, what was your reasoning? Walk me through the thought process that led you to believe this was a good idea."

Alistair still doesn't say anything, just stares at me with wide eyes full of terror and possibly drug-induced confusion. His pupils are dilated beyond what fear alone would cause, confirming that he's currently high on Red Line.

"Okay, let me get this straight," I continue, my voice taking on a mocking quality. "You thought doping up would help you win your matches tonight? Grab a few extra dollars from inflated bets and then what? Celebrate by finding an Omega falling all over herself to sit on your pin dick of a knot?"

The crude language is intentional, designed to strip away any remaining dignity or self-respect Alistair might be clinging to. I step even closer, invading his personal space until he can probably feel my breath on his face.

"Tell me who gave you the drugs," I demand, my voice dropping to a more dangerous register.

Alistair finally finds his voice, though his response is pathetically defiant. "You're the only fucking club that's so strict about this shit. Everywhere else, people are allowed to have fun without all these stupid rules."

The complaint is so absurd that I almost laugh.

"You can have all the fun you want in ways that don't involve cheating and coercion and assault.

But since you seem confused about basic consent and fair play, let me clarify the situation.

Tell me who gave you the fucking drugs, and you won't end up dead.

You won't be fighting anymore in any legitimate venue, but you'll leave here alive. "

Alistair actually has the audacity to laugh, the sound hysterical and slightly unhinged. "You can't do shit to me. We all heard you got an Omega now. He'll think you're a monster if you hurt me too badly. You've gone soft."

The assumption that Sterling makes me weak rather than more dangerous is almost entertaining. Fuck, I get it now. It really never was about being weak. I grin, showing too many teeth, and let Alistair see exactly how wrong he is.

"Actually, he told me I was his regardless of what I do. The only stipulation is that I can't kill you." I pause for effect. "But I have Lorcan for that if killing becomes necessary."

The color drains from Alistair's face so quickly I wonder if he might actually pass out. "The enforcer? You're bringing in Lorcan?"

His voice cracks on the name, terror overriding the false bravado. Everyone in our network knows Lorcan's reputation, knows that being handed over to him is essentially a death sentence delivered slowly and painfully.

I move closer and throw a kick to Alistair's knee with enough force to buckle the joint. He crumples in pain, grabbing his leg and letting out a garbled scream. The violence feels good and releases some of the rage that's been building since I heard what he did to that Omega.

"Tell me what I need to know, and I'll tell Lorcan that I don't actually need him tonight," I offer, straightening my suit jacket a little. "You'll be hurt, but you'll be alive and able to walk away eventually."

Alistair glares up at me, his face contorted up in pain.

"I'm dead either fucking way. I've got money riding on tonight's fights that I won't be able to pay back if I can't compete.

People who will come after me regardless of what you do.

Just let me out of here and I won't come back.

I'll disappear and you'll never see me again. "

His desperate plea is ultimately pointless. "And what kind of message would that send? That you just get banned for drugging yourself and assaulting an Omega? That there are no real consequences for violating the most basic rules of my establishment?"