Page 26 of A Promise of Forever
Dorian lets out a shrill, desperate scream as I close the distance between us and throw a punch toward his jaw. The satisfying crunch of bone tells me I've broken something, a deviant grin spreading across my face in satisfaction. I follow up with a kick to his knee, the joint bending at an unnatural angle, and then stomp on his stomach when he hits the floor.
He gasps for air, curling around his injured ribs, the Alpha reaching out for relief. “Jesus, fuck, stop!” He spits onto the cage floor, a mixture of blood and teeth pooling beside him. If he thinks we’re done, he clearly doesn’t remember who I am.
I run my hands down my shirt and then crouch down beside him so we're eye level. "My good will ended at midnight, you fucking bastard. Now, explain to me this unsavory link you have with drugs in my goddamn club."
Dorian whimpers, the Alpha pressing a hand to my knee as he tries to grab my attention.Fucker.How many times did someone try that bullshit with Sterling? How many times did Sterling pull away or run or find out that he couldn’t? How many times did he suffer because an Alpha wanted more than they were allowed, so they justtook?
I wrap one hand around Dorian’s throat and apply just enough pressure to make breathing difficult but not impossible. The power I have in this moment is intoxicating, the knowledge that this man's life is entirely in my hands. Fuck, I wish it were Wilson’s.
"I would crush your windpipe right here," I tease, tightening my grip slightly for emphasis. "But I won't for one goddamn reason. Because my Omega doesn't want me to kill anyone. That's your saving grace. That's the only thing standing between you and death right now."
A few days ago, I wouldn't have hesitated to eliminate a problem like Dorian permanently. But Sterling's gentle plea that I not kill for him has me silently seeking my Omega’s approval even when he’s not physically here.
"Now, tell me what I want to know," I continue, releasing his throat slightly so he can speak, "and you'll at least limp out of here with everything still attached to your body."
Dorian's response is to spit in my direction and rasp out, "Fuck you, Forrest. You think you're untouchable, but you're just another thug with delusions of grandeur."
The defiance surprises me for a moment before rage takes over any rational thought. I yank his head forward and then smash his head back against the floor, relishing in the way his eyes roll into the back of his head for a second. "Iamuntouchable, you asshole. Want to know why? Because you're locked in here with me, not the other way around. Also, that's not what I wanted to hear."
I grab one of his fingers and snap it backward without hesitation. The scream that tears from Dorian's throat echoes off the walls, and I feel nothing but cold satisfaction at his pain.
"You bitch!" he gasps out between sobs. "I'm not connected to the drugs, okay? I just look the other way when they come through. The fighters already liked to get fucked up anyway. Why does it matter?"
The casual dismissal of my explicit instructions makes this worse. I frown down at him, disgusted by his complete lack of respect for the rules I've established. "And that makes it right?" I growl out, my voice reverberating through the club. "Dorian,I've told you and every goddamn piece of shit that works for me that I don't want drugs in my club. Nowhere near it. That's not a suggestion, it's a requirement. Who's bringing the drugs into my establishment?"
I grab another finger and wait for his answer, giving him one last chance to cooperate before I escalate further. When Dorian just whimpers, I snap that finger back, too. His scream is even louder this time, ringing through the open space.
"Fuck, it's just some guy," Dorian finally gasps out. "I don't know his name. He doesn't give us a name. We don't ask questions; he doesn't cause trouble. I’ve tried to ask and then he threatened my whole goddamn operation. I’m not risking that."
"Now, we're getting somewhere, Dorian." A dark chuckle rumbles through my chest as I play with the two broken fingers. Dorian tries to wriggle away from my touch, but in this state, he’s in no condition to fight me. "Unfortunately, I still hate your answer. You should have told me about this months ago instead of accepting bribes to compromise my operation."
I take his wrist and snap it with the same precision I used on his fingers. The bone breaks with a wet crack, and Dorian's whimper turns into a full sob of pain and desperation.
"Tonight, during the fights, if you aren't dead by then, you're going to announce publicly that I'm taking over your fighters. That will clear your debt with me, and then I don't want to see your sorry ass in my club ever again. Are we clear?"
Dorian's face crumples with the realization of what I'm taking from him. "Fuck, man, that will ruin me. Those fighters are all I have. I won't be able to work anywhere in the city without them."
"And you should have thought about that before sitting with me at middle school lunch all those years ago. You've been trading on our childhood friendship for too long, Dorian. Using my name to open doors and then betraying the trust that name represented. That ends tonight."
I stand up, brushing imaginary dust from my pants, then stomp on his knee for good measure. The joint crunches under my foot, and I know he'll be limping for months even with medical attention.
"I told you what you wanted to know! We had a deal!"
I pause at the edge of the cage and look back at him, loving this crumpled, broken version of him. "And I told you that I didn't like your answers. Now pick yourself up and get the fuck out of my club before I change my mind about letting you live."
I watch as Dorian struggles to hobble to his feet, the poor bastard dragging his broken body across the concrete floor. The moment he’s far enough down the hall, I turn my attention to Lorcan, the Valla positively radiating the need for violence. "It's been a while since I've seen you stomp anyone out personally. But shit, I think that's the most terrifying I've ever seen you. Very controlled, very precise. He'll remember this for the rest of his life."
"I would have done worse," I admit to him, folding my arms across my chest. The cage is a mess of blood and teeth and that stench he calls a scent. "But this sends a better message to everyone watching. Dorian lives but loses everything, which is sometimes more effective than a quick death. Now I just have to find the motherfucker who's actually selling drugs in my establishment."
Lorcan checks his watch, the practical gesture bringing me back to the present moment. "You going home to Sterling after this, right? Looking like that?"
I glance down at my clothes and realize he's right. There's blood spattered across my shirt, my knuckles are split, and I probably smell like violence and rage rather than the comforting scent Sterling needs from me. I clench my jaw and shake my head. "No, I'll stay in my room at the main house when I get back. He'll be okay in the cottage on his own until breakfast."
Even as I say the words, I don't believe them. Sterling won't be okay alone, not after the trauma of tonight. And I desperately want to crawl back into that nest and let my Omega hold me until all this rage seeps out of my system, replaced by the peace I only seem to find in his presence.
After nights like this, I usually nurse a bottle of expensive whiskey or spend a few hours in the gym until physical exhaustion overrides the emotional turmoil. But now the only person I want, the only comfort that sounds appealing, is the one person I can't have because I don't want to terrify him with this version of myself.
I manage a smile that probably doesn't reach my eyes. "Have a good night, Lorcan. Don't stay out too late. You're going to be my eyes and ears while I'm stuck in the viewing box."
