Page 53 of A Promise of Forever (The Vallaverse #3)

Forrest

Wilson never stood a chance, but I’m having fun anyway, each punch and kick landing with the kind of precision that comes from years of training and unlimited rage.

Wilson tries to defend himself, tries to use the fighting techniques he learned at the police academy, but he's fundamentally outmatched.

I've spent my entire adult life in rings with fighters who were bigger, stronger, and meaner than him.

He's just a bully who's used his badge to avoid real consequences.

My knuckles are beaten to hell, skin split open and bleeding from repeated impact with Wilson's face and body.

A wound is forming on my shoulder where Wilson managed to land a lucky strike with something sharp, the fucker cheating even now.

The cut burns as blood trickles down my arm, but the pain just feeds my fury rather than slowing me down.

I shed my shirt, not wanting the fabric to restrict my movement or give Wilson anything to grab onto.

The evening air hits my skin, cold against the sweat and blood coating my torso.

Wilson yelps as he scrambles down the small hallway of his boat, my steps catching up to him before I stomp down hard on the back of his knee with my full weight behind the blow.

The joint bends in a direction it's not meant to go, and Wilson cries out with agony that's music to my ears. He staggers forward before racing around to the back of the boat, dragging his damaged leg and whimpering with pain.

I follow at a measured pace, letting him think he might have a chance to escape. Then I turn the corner and find myself staring down the barrel of a gun. Wilson's hand is shaking badly, but at this distance, even a terrible shot could kill me.

Before either of us can react, a terrifying roar splits the night air.

Bryn appears from the shadows where he's been watching and waiting, moving with the kind of speed that only a Valla protecting his pack can achieve.

He grabs Wilson's wrist and bends it back with brutal force; the gun tumbles from Wilson's grip into the river below.

"That's not fair!" Wilson shrieks, his voice high with panic and pain as he gathers his wrist against his chest. "You're ganging up on me! This was supposed to be one-on-one!"

I laugh, the sound cold and merciless as I lean against the side of the boat, folding my arms across my naked chest. "What's not fair is you shoving a gun in my face during what was supposed to be a fist fight.

I'm going to kill you, Wilson. There's no doubt about that anymore.

You're going to suffer until your last breath, and now I'm going to make it really hurt for you trying to cheat.

" I advance on him, and he scrambles backward until his back hits the boat's cabin.

"I wish I had the time and patience to put you on your knees and make you apologize for being such a sorry piece of shit.

For every Omega you've hurt, every person you've destroyed with your corruption. "

Wilson's eyes go wide with terror as I grab his neck and slam him against the side of the boat. His head connects with the metal railing with a satisfying thunk, and blood immediately starts flowing from a new cut on his scalp.

"You're a monster," Wilson gasps out, his voice strangled by my grip on his throat. "Sterling can't really love you. It's not possible for anyone to love something like you."

The words are designed to hurt, to make me doubt myself and the bond I share with Sterling.

But instead of causing pain, they just make me smile.

I point to the fresh bite wound on my shoulder, the mark Sterling left when he claimed me in return.

"Tell that to the Omega who marked me tonight.

Tell that to the Omega who told me to get rid of his nightmares by any means necessary.

Tell that to the Omega who is now carrying my flesh and blood because I gave him a safe place to have his heat.

" I lean in closer, making sure Wilson can see the absolute certainty in my eyes.

"You will die alone and unloved, and I'm going to make sure that when your body washes up somewhere downstream, they'll have a hard time even identifying what's left of you. "

Wilson's face contorts with rage and desperation. "You don't have the balls to actually kill me. You're all talk, just like your father was before—"

"And you just don't know when to shut the fuck up," I interrupt.

I reach into Wilson's mouth, my fingers finding his tongue.

He tries to bite down, but his jaw is too damaged from earlier blows to generate real force.

I grab his tongue firmly and yank forward with all my strength.

Wilson's scream is inhuman, a sound of pure agony as blood spurts everywhere, coating my hand and arm, splashing across both our faces.

I throw the severed piece of flesh over the side of the boat, watching it disappear into the dark water. "That's better. Now you can't say anything else stupid. Where were we?"

Wilson tries to fight back despite the agony he must be in, his survival instincts overriding the pain. He throws wild punches that I block easily, his movements uncoordinated and weakening by the second. Blood is pouring from his mouth at an alarming rate, making breathing difficult.

Wilson crumples after what feels like the thousandth blow to his stomach, his body no longer able to maintain consciousness or mount any defense.

He's not much more than a rag doll now, bleeding from dozens of wounds and probably suffering from internal injuries that would kill him even if I stopped right now.

I place my foot on Wilson's neck, positioning it carefully over his windpipe. Wilson weakly scratches at my foot, his fingers barely able to form a grip, his strength almost completely gone.

"I'm going to stay right here until your last fucking breath," I tell him calmly, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my system.

"And then I'm going to discard you like the worthless piece of shit that you are.

No one is going to come looking for you.

No one is going to care that you're missing.

The world will be better without you in it. "

Wilson gurgles, blood bubbling from his mouth and nose as he tries desperately to breathe around my foot.

He writhes weakly, his body's automatic survival responses kicking in even though his mind must know it's over.

But his chest is still rising and falling with labored breaths, his heart still stubbornly beating.

I sigh with exasperation. "You’re such a stubborn bastard. You won't even die quickly."

I lift my foot and stomp down hard into Wilson's chest, relishing the crunch of ribs breaking beneath my shoe. I step back to watch as his breathing stops completely, his eyes still open, staring sightlessly at the night sky, but there's no life behind them anymore.

A wave of relief washes over me, the tension I've been carrying since Sterling first came into my life finally releasing. Lorcan appears on the dock not even a second later, clapping slowly with genuine appreciation. "Damn, I missed the good parts. I was hoping to watch at least some of it."

I turn to look at him, confused about his presence. "I didn't call for you. How did you even know to come here?"

Lorcan shrugs casually, like showing up to murder scenes is a normal social activity. "I know, but I thought I might be needed for cleanup. Body disposal is kind of my specialty, and this one is going to require some effort given how thoroughly you destroyed him."

I feel bad for assuming he'd want to be involved in the violence itself. "I didn't mean to insinuate that you needed to handle the dirty work. You do enough of that for our family."

Lorcan waves off my concern with an easy smile. "Hey, my girl gets off on this kind of thing. It's fine. She thinks the violence is hot."

I frown, genuinely confused for a moment. "Who..." Then understanding dawns on me. "Of course. How did I not see that before?"

Bryn speaks up from where he's been standing quietly. "See what? What are you two talking about?" I love the big oaf, but if it doesn’t involve Caelan or Astra or giving someone a beat down, he tends not to know what the fuck is going on.

"Lorcan is always trailing a certain Beta around like a fucking puppy dog," I explain, all of the pieces clicking into place. "The way he watches Thea, the excuses he makes to be near her during operations. Who else would it be?"

Lorcan grins unrepentantly. "Says the Valla who built a proper nest for his Omega under his desk in his office. Like that's not the most obvious sign of devotion ever."

I snort with amusement despite the blood and violence surrounding us. "Fair point. By all means, then, have fun with the cleanup. Make sure nothing traces back to us or The Forge."

I climb back onto the docks, my legs slightly unsteady now that the adrenaline is starting to fade.

My whole body aches from the fight, and I'm suddenly very aware of every cut and bruise Wilson managed to inflict before I ended him.

Bryn says he'll stay to make sure Lorcan doesn't need anything for the disposal, and I'm grateful because I need a moment to calm down before I can face Sterling.

I head back to the car, resting in the driver’s seat with my eyes closed, when my phone rings. Sterling's name appears on the screen, and my heart clenches with a mixture of love and apprehension.

"Hey," I answer, trying to keep my voice steady.

"It's done, right?" Sterling's voice comes through the earpiece. "I can feel it through the bond. Relief. The anger is gone. Come home."

The knowledge that he can sense my emotional state through our connection is both comforting and concerning.

He knows exactly what I just did, can probably feel the violence still humming through my veins.

"Little dove, I don't think you want to see me right now," I start, looking down at my blood-soaked body. "I'm covered in—"

"You promised," Sterling interrupts firmly. "You promised to come home to me. Just come home."

I sigh, knowing I can't deny him. "Alright. I'm on my way."

The drive home feels longer than it should, exhaustion and pain finally catching up with me now I have one last bastard to worry about.

When I pull up to the main house, I climb out of the car slowly.

I'm soaked in blood—most of it Wilson's, but some of it mine.

I have cuts and bruises forming all over my chest, and the wound on my shoulder has started bleeding more heavily.

Staff members who initially raced to the car to greet me fall back when they see me, their eyes widening at my appearance. But they're not surprised exactly. I used to come home looking like this more often, back before Sterling, back when violence was my primary outlet for stress.

I open the front door and freeze immediately. Sterling is standing only a few feet away in the entrance hall, like he's been waiting there since I called. His face is pale, his hands clasped together tightly, and I can see the effort it's taking him to stand still and wait for me to move first.

But I don’t know what to do or how to approach him.

I know how I must look—like a monster straight out of nightmares, covered in evidence of brutal violence.

The rage is still radiating from me in waves, violence clinging to my skin like a second layer.

I'm waiting for the fear I'm certain is coming.

Waiting for Sterling to recoil in horror, to realize that he's bonded himself to someone capable of such cruelty.

Waiting for the rejection that will break my heart, but that I probably deserve.

But instead of fear, I feel relief flooding through the bond from Sterling's side. His face transforms from pale worry to joy, and then he's jumping into my arms before I can process what's happening.

Sterling kisses my cheeks, my nose, my lips over and over again. His hands settle on my shoulders, touching me everywhere like he's confirming I'm real and whole and home.

"Baby, I'm covered in blood and probably other things you don't want to think about," I try to warn him, but my arms are already wrapping around him automatically.

"I don't fucking care," Sterling responds. "He's gone, right? Gone gone? Permanently eliminated?"

I nod, holding Sterling incredibly tight against my chest. "He's gone.

He'll never hurt you again, never threaten you or haunt your dreams. You're safe now, completely and permanently safe.

" Sterling makes a sound that's half sob and half laugh, his body shaking against mine.

He drags his nose along the edge of my jaw, scenting me heavily as I just stand in the entrance, completely awed that I got so lucky.

"Can I just hold you tonight?" I ask quietly, suddenly desperate for simple comfort rather than anything more complicated.

"Forever," Sterling responds immediately, his voice muffled against my bloody shoulder. "Hold me forever."