Page 47 of Forget

Tossingmy phone in the cupholder, I drive to Cian’s house. I have a change of clothing in the back, and I’ll be taking one of the house cars this afternoon. There will be plenty of time to help Meghan tonight, and exorcize her demons.

We’re just out here doing God’s work.

Chapter 10

Domh

Stepping into the business that boasts to be the best way to expel some anger, I smirk at the irony. I changed my clothing after dealing with Marcus Coons, Aisling’s old landlord. God, he was a real piece of shit, and I enjoyed taking everything from him.

Aiden arranged a clean up crew for me, and I’m now swaggering in with a pair of dark jeans and a long-sleeved blue sweater underneath my black coat. My favorite suit is going to need to be dry cleaned, but the company we use looks the other way at a bloodstain or two. I told Evan I escaped mostly unscathed, and that wasn’t a lie. I simply know that when you get your hands dirty, sometimes blood splatters.

I don’t want to meet Aisling with that bastard’s fluids on any part of me.

“Hi, Sir. Are you here for open session?” the woman at the desk asks with a smile. “It’s not busy today.”

“I am,” I say with a nod. Glancing at the laminated sheet on the desk as I walk up to it, I read that they only have privatesessions during the week. Therefore, Aisling is in the open session room.

Logic is keeping me from bouncing on the balls of my feet and showing the excitement I feel. I want to know everything about this little omega. Why is she here? What kind of rage is she working off? Who else do I need to kill in her honor?

The woman charges me for admission, and then walks me to an area filled with protective glasses and a place to hang my outerwear.

“Your hands may be too large for our gloves,” she laments as she looks at them.

I hold them out, shrugging. They’re tattooed with colorful flames. I can be professional, lethal, and cutthroat while still being myself. Anyone who thinks otherwise can get fucked. I wore black leather gloves earlier and pull them from the pocket of the coat hanging up.

“Can I wear these?” I ask her. I’m not really worried about cutting up my hands, but I don’t want her to get into trouble either. I’m sure there are some regulations she or her boss need to follow.

“Yes, thank you,” she says, her shoulders relaxing.

Smiling widely at her, I tug on the gloves and put on the protective glasses, ready to be done with pleasantries. I know for a fact that my shoes pass muster as well, because I changed into my comfortable combat boots earlier.

“No worries. All set then?”

The woman runs through rules about being aware of my surroundings while working out my anger, and opens the door to a huge room filled with every type of glass object you could possibly imagine finding at a thrift store.

China dishes, lamps, figurines, ugly busts of people, as well as tapestries and pillows that should have been trashed.

“You’ll find hammers, mallets, bats, sledgehammers, and more on this wall,” she says, showing me. “There are knives for tearing, ripping, and destroying hung up next to it. Please remember to put your weapons away when you’re done. There’s only two other people here today. I’ll ring the buzzer in a moment. Enjoy!”

The woman leaves with a bright smile while I chuckle under my breath. She’s definitely great at her job. Moving over to the wall, I lift a sledgehammer from its place.

“It looks tiny in your hands,” a blonde says with a snicker beside me as she lifts a smaller hammer, her eyes covered by the protective glasses. She’s stunning, wearing clothes I wouldn’t normally expect to see at a place like this.

Inhaling deeply, I swear lights explode behind my suddenly closed eyelids as my favorite scent fills my senses.

Holy fuck. I may just come in my pants.The scent of sugar cookies makes my mouth water, and I can practically taste the buttery, delicious treats. Fuck, they really are my absolute favorite.

Swallowing hard, I open my eyes, trying to keep my cool as I glance over the beautiful omega whose hair is tossed up in a messy bun, the gloves supplied by the rage room on her hands.

My pack’s girl means business right now. “If I tried to use anything else, I might break it,” I say apologetically, flexing my hand around the handle.

Aisling’s eyes grow wide as she squirms, standing next to me. I’m desperate to see if she’ll perfume for me, or will give me a hint of if she knows we’re scent matches, but there’s nothing.

This little omega really has all of her instincts locked down or turned off. What’s it like to live like that? I depend on all of my instincts to function for my job, to keep the people I love safe, and to feel like myself.

I can’t imagine how hard it would be to be cut off like this.

“I can see that,” she rasps, turning away to move to the other side of the room. Her hips make her dress swish around her calves, but I would swear she’s walking as fast as possible to get away from me.

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