Page 68 of Vegas Baby!

He was a monster that I had given the first years of my adulthood to, and I couldn’t wait for the day when I would look back on thoughts of him and not feel all-consuming rage and heartbreak.

More and more rose up as I took my hammer to a row of plates lined up on a floating shelf.

Andrew didn’t give a shit about what I wanted.

Smash.

My own mother didn’t give a shit either.

Smash.

I swung until my shoulder ached and my tears fogged up my goggles. I braced my hands on one of the flimsy tables, letting the cleansing sobs come up and flow out.

My pack instantly surrounded me, whispering assurances. I listened to all of them, sucking in deep breaths, trying to replace my pain with the things that they promised.

I was safe.

I was loved.

I deserve a good life with alphas who cared about me.

My child would have fathers who loved them.

We were building a home, a life, together.

Jesse tugged off my goggles and cupped my cheeks. “Hey there, sweetness. Are you doing okay?”

I nodded, letting him brush the tears from my cheeks.

“Do you need to leave?”

“I’m okay,” I insisted. “Just got to be a lot. Once I started, it all came out.”

“Good. That’s the goal. Not a substitute for actual therapy, but definitely preferable to you mauling Andrew if you ever see him again.”

Bryce scoffed. “He would deserve it.”

“Damn straight,” Micah agreed.

“I’m not saying he wouldn’t,” clarified Jesse, “but there’s a lot less trauma for our omega if she hits a cup with a hammer versus his face.”

I wasn’t a violent person, but omega instinct went wild sometimes. If Andrew ever threatened my baby, I was pretty certain I would commit a crime. I wasn’t likely to ever get convicted of anything in that case, since the law was all too aware of how vicious omegas could get over their children. Jesse was right that I didn’t need that sort of trauma on my conscience.

“You guys smash for a while,” I said. “I’m gonna give my arm a break for a few minutes.”

Once they had assured themselves I was fine, they turned their focus onto an ancient TV. Bryce’s first swing was honestly pathetic.

“Hit it like you mean it,” said Micah.

“I’m not used to stuff like this,” replied Bryce.

“Do you need to pretend it’s Andrew too?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t hurt.” Jesse clapped his hand onto Bryce’s shoulder. “Give it a go.”

His next hit cracked the screen.

“There we go.” Jesse grinned.

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