Page 63 of A Promise of Forever
“How do you know that?” I growl out, whipping the car into a left turn and taking the highway. “Where are you?”
“At the bus stop. Saw him calling up a cab maybe ten minutes ago? I didn’t get an address, but there are really only two places for him to go. The wharf and the road that leads outside the city. I’d have gone after him, but cabs cost like fifty bucks.”
I don’t fault him for it, knowing that if Julian could have followed Wilson, he would have. However, in his state, it’s best he just goes home. This isn’t his fight anyway. “I’ll send you a car to take you home. We’ll talk when this is over.”
“Thanks, boss.”
I hang up, dialing Moses back, hoping that by giving him a better direction, he’ll be able to pull up something. After describing where Wilson could be headed, a flurry of clickingaround on a keyboard hits my ears. It feels like forever before he speaks into the earpiece.
"We've got a location. One of the docks on the east side of the city. Our cameras caught Wilson arriving about five minutes ago, and he's been preparing one of the smaller boats like he's planning to leave by water."
"Send me the exact coordinates and any photos you have," I demand, already taking the exit toward the dock.
"Already sent to your phone," Moses confirms. "The images show him alone, loading supplies. Seeing how quickly he’s ready to leave, he probably already has a new identity stacked. You don’t have much time."
I hand my phone to Bryn, who brings up the grainy photographs and while it’s hard to see, it’s definitely Wilson. He looks panicked and disheveled, nothing like the confident cop who challenged me earlier. "I owe you for this," I tell Moses sincerely. "Name your price and it's yours."
"Just make sure he doesn't hurt anyone else," Moses responds. "We've got Omegas in our family, too. People like Wilson don't deserve to keep breathing."
I don't bother with subtlety or caution. I speed through the city streets leading to the docks, then drive directly onto the wooden planking without caring about damage to the vehicle or alerting anyone to my presence. The car's headlights illuminate the dock area, catching the one boat with lights still on.
Wilson is in the process of untying the mooring lines when my car pulls up. He freezes for a moment, then snarls with rage and what might be fear as I jump out of the vehicle and stride toward his boat.
"Did you really think I was just going to let you fucking go?" I call out, my voice carrying across the water. "After all that taunting and posturing, after trying to ruin my Omega and destroy everything I've built?"
I leap onto the boat without waiting for permission, my weight making it rock slightly. Wilson stumbles back, clearly not expecting me to be this aggressive or to find him this quickly.
"Fuck off, Forrest," Wilson spits, trying to maintain some semblance of authority despite his obvious disadvantage. "You've made your point. I'm leaving your territory. You won."
"No, I won't fuck off," I respond coldly, advancing on him step by step. "You challenged me to a fucking fight like a man, and now you're running like a coward. I'm here to make sure I get that fight you promised, regardless of the location."
Wilson backs up until he hits the boat's railing, trapped with nowhere to go. "There's no reason for any of this. You already got what you wanted. I've stopped selling in your goddamn little city, alright? Just let me leave."
"But you're like a cockroach," I say, my voice dripping with contempt. "You'll just pop up somewhere else, weasel your way into another community where you don't belong, and then hurt more victims. You'll find new Omegas to torture, new territory to corrupt with your drugs and violence. It stops here. Tonight." I roll my sleeves up, a heavy sigh falling from my lips.
Wilson's expression shifts to something more desperate. "What are you going to do, kill me? There are cameras everywhere on these docks, and the police already know you have it out for me. You'll never get away with murder."
I grin, pulling out my phone to make one more call. "I have one more favor to ask," I say when Moses answers. "Can you scramble the cameras by the docks for about twenty minutes? I need to prove a point to someone about what happens when you threaten my family."
"Absolutely," Moses responds without hesitation. "I'll even save a real copy of the original footage for you in case you need it to teach anyone else a lesson about respecting boundaries."
"Excellent, truly," I say with genuine appreciation. "I won't forget this."
I hang up and turn back to Wilson, letting my expression shift to something predatory. "Where were we? Oh, right, you were about to learn what happens when you run out of options."
I stalk forward and throw a punch at Wilson's face with all the strength I've been holding back. The impact connects solidly with his jaw, the crack of bone audible even over the water lapping against the boat. Wilson stumbles to the side several steps, blood immediately trickling down from his split lip.
I let out a horrid growl, violence flooding through my system without restraint now that there are no witnesses and no consequences. Then I grin, anticipation making my pulse race with dark satisfaction. "Oh, I'm going to have so much fun with this," I say, cracking my knuckles. "Sterling told me I can do whatever I need to do as long as I come home to him safely. So I have to make this kill count, make sure you suffer enough that your death serves as a warning to anyone else who might think about threatening my family."
Wilson's eyes widen with genuine terror as he realizes he's completely fucked. There's no backup coming, no badge to hide behind, no authority to leverage. Just him and me and the justice he's been avoiding for years.
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 isforming 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.
