Page 68 of Filthy Royal

Damien knocked his head against the wall, accepting the sting as his due.

He’d taken his hits—emerged bruised and bloody. What’s more, he was returning to his family with no glory attached to his name, no prize money, and no omega.

Losing wasn’t easy. Swallowing it, as bitter as those energy drinks Scarlett had secretly hated.

But the only real defeat would be if he quit, and there was no chance of that.

The intensity of his feelings for the omega wouldn’t let him.

They were still as deep and vast and intense as before. Only now, it wasn’t love that filled his heart but hurt and rage. And rage was a hells of a lot easier to accept, so he let it crowd out the pain. Let it burn through him. Let it sear away everything but the determination to make sure, one rotation in the future, Scarlett regretted her choice.

That she’d be beyond sorry she’d become Stormhart’s prime omega and wished she’d had enough faith to choose him instead.

And when that happened, and she came crawling back to him with remorse in her beautiful eyes, he’d show her the same consideration she’d shown him.

Or maybe he was fooling himself.

Maybe his rage would weaken over time.

Maybe in a few planetary rotations, he wouldn’t care or even remember her name.

Maybe the stupid, dense piece of his heart that still beat for her would wise up and realize she was lost to him forever, their story a tragic tale with no happy ending.

Maybe he’d move on, shrug the whole clusterfuck off as a youthful misadventure.

But he didn’t think so.

Scarlett was in his blood and, for better or worse, he didn’t think he’d be able to fill the black space where his soul used to be until he had his reckoning.

No matter how long it took.

* * *

Scarlett

Scarlett stared out at the rising shuttle as its lights grew dimmer and more distant.

She blinked hard, fighting to keep it in her sight for as long as possible. Her finger swiped away the condensation forming on the luxury suite window, a material so much like her former display case. She was a prize no longer, but she’d never felt more like a prisoner.

Hopeless guilt churned within her. A hot, searing agony she knew would never end.

She missed Damien already.

But at least he was safe.

Kadon had seen to that, delivering a punch that would knock him out, but keep him alive.

She pressed her palm to the crystal as the darkness swallowed Damien’s shuttle, carrying him home. His brothers had already been informed of his impending arrival.

That and his life spared, had been the few concessions she’d won.

She’d come so close to getting all she’d ever wanted—only to have it snatched away.

Outside, in the corridor, her brother Luc stood waiting to serve as witness to what was about to happen.

In the end, he hadn’t wanted it to turn out this way either. Not once he understood how she felt about Damien. The same could be said of Kadon Stormhart, whose heart—like hers—belonged to another, and always would.

But there was nothing any of them could do.

---