Page 12 of A Promise of Forever
He’s alsomine.
Whatever he needs, though, it’s his.
Whateverit is.
I’m secretly hoping it’s Wilson’s head on a fucking pike.
I stride into my office expecting to find it empty, ready to dive into research about Wilson and start planning his systematic destruction. Instead, I find three people clustered around my desk like they're holding some kind of informal board meeting.
Lorcan, one of my most reliable Valla, Thea, a Beta who handles the financial bullshit, and then my fucking brother absent his Valla sprawled in my desk chair like he owns the place, feet propped up on my expensive mahogany surface.
"Why are you all here?" I ask, irritation bleeding into my voice. It's barely eight in the morning, and most of my people don't show up this early unless there's an emergency or a crisis that needs immediate attention.
The question triggers a round of laughter that does nothing to improve my mood. I'm operating on zero sleep, my head is full of images of Sterling's bruises, and the last thing I need is my inner circle treating my office like their personal social club.
"What crawled up your ass?" Thea asks with the kind of casual irreverence that would get anyone else in this organization killed.
More laughter echoes through the room, and I realize that if it had been anyone other than these three people, they would have been ripped apart for that level of disrespect. But Lorcan and Thea have earned the right to speak freely through years of loyalty and competence. And Caelan grew up around Valla, learning to stand alongside them rather than behind them.
These three here are the only people in my world who can challenge me without fear of lethal consequences. It also just feels good to not have to beonall the fucking time around them. Well, them and Bryn. I wouldn’t stand a chance if I tried to take down that motherfucker.
"My older brother just got an Omega," Caelan teases, a hint of pride to his tone. "He's learning some of the ins and outs of Omega care. That being said, life goes on." He fixes me with a look that's equal parts concerned and curious. "What are you doing in here, Forrest? Shouldn't you be upstairs making sure your new mate is settling in properly?"
The casual way he refers to Sterling as my mate makes something possessive flare in my chest. Sterling isn't officially my mate yet, but the distinction feels less important with each passing hour. The rose ceremony was just the beginning, a formal claim that needs to be followed up with actual bonding. Unfortunately, that’s light years away if I can barely touch him.
"Forget that. I need everything you have on Wilson. He's fucking dead."
The shift in atmosphere is immediate. Caelan's feet hit the floor as he sits up properly in my chair, the other two moving closer, both standing up straight as they ready themselves for any and all commands I might give them. Thea tilts her head to the side a little, a flicker of emotion passing through her expression before it disappears. She tries to keep that part of her tamped down, but it serves her better than she thinks.
"I gave Sterling a bath last night," I start, fisting my hands at my sides. "He's covered in bruises.Everywhere. Finger marks, bite wounds, belt marks across his back. He wouldn't even let me touch him without having a panic attack."
The memory of Sterling's injuries has a growl starting up in my chest. The casual cruelty of it, the systematic way someone had hurt him, designed to break his spirit as much as damage hisbody. The worst part was that it wasn’tjustfrom Wilson and that they weren’t all new. Some of them were old scars, so deep that they were dug into his skin, faint memories of pain I’m sure were nightmares to him even if they were barely there to the visible eye.
"This morning, I found him cowering in the corner of his room," I continue, my voice getting harder with each word. "He hadn't slept at all, hadn't even touched his dinner. Just spent the whole night waiting for someone to hurt him again. Whatever those other Alphas did to him was fucking awful, but Wilson is the only name I have right now, so I'm going to make sure that bastard pays for every single mark on Sterling's body."
Lorcan nods grimly, his expression shifting into the cold focus he gets when we're planning someone's demise. "I've heard of Wilson, but he's not an officer in this district. Works downtown, near the port sometimes. He's known for putting his nose where it doesn't belong, harassing people in communities where he has no jurisdiction."
The information confirms what I already suspected about Wilson's character. He's the kind of cop who uses his badge as a weapon, who targets vulnerable people because he knows they can't fight back effectively. The type of predator who hides behind authority while pursuing his own sick interests. It only makes sense that he’d try to trap an Omega.
"That's great, but I need something concrete to nail him with," I push out, frustration making my voice sharper. "Right now, his continued existence is pissing me off, and that's not sustainable for anyone involved."
Caelan lets out a heavy sigh as he pushes to his feet. "I told you what I found out at breakfast, brother. And the few channels I’ve tapped since last night haven’t given me much in the last hour since you were upstairs.” He taps a few times on the tablet on my desk and then scrolls a few times. "Nothing we can useimmediately to get him to come to you without using Sterling as a pawn.”
It takes everything in me not to turn on my brother, the muscles in my jaw pulling tight as I fold my arms across my chest. However, I can’t swallow back the growl, the sound reverberating through the room, Lorcan and Thea both taking a step back. It mildly surprises me the way Lorcan shifts in front of Thea, a conversation for later.
Caelan just holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. That’s not what I meant. Fuck.”
Thea leans around Lorcan’s back. "How is Sterling?" Thea asks, her voice gentler than usual. "Is he going to be okay?"
The change in conversation helps divert my anger, my focus shifting to Sterling’s wellbeing rather than beating the shit out of my brother. "He's resting," I reply, though the word doesn't really capture Sterling's current state. "I'm giving him some space to adjust, and I'll check on him later. Right now, I need to think about something else, though."
It's not entirely true. Every part of my brain is focused on Sterling, cataloging his needs and planning ways to help him feel safer. But admitting that level of preoccupation to the people in this room feels like revealing a weakness.
"That's probably smart," Lorcan offers, though his expression suggests he doesn't entirely believe my claim about needing distraction.
"Speaking of distractions," Caelan muses as he moves around my desk and perches his ass on the edge, "we have three new fighters coming in this week. Two from the eastern districts, one transfer from Seattle. All of them have impressive records, but they're going to need evaluation before we put them in the ring."
The familiar territory of business planning helps settle me. Fighter recruitment and management are areas where I haveclear expertise, where decisions are based on observable data rather than emotional instincts I don't understand.
