Page 37 of Filthy Beginnings

Luc studied him. Blew out a breath. “Fine. I’ll grant you that. Sometimes…” a muscle pulsed in his jaw, “the connection is just there, and you know. But it’s not enough. You think love matters in the end?” The container crumpled in his hand. “It doesn’t once survival is on the line.”

“Hells. Cynical much.” Damien tossed his own drink aside. “You nursing a broken heart?”

Scarlett’s brother snarled at him, getting in his face. “You know nothing.”

Damien was not one to back down. Chest puffing wide, he snarled right back. “I know I can make Scarlett happy. I know I can protect her. Keep her safe.”

“You aren’t even Brotherhood. Even if you win, do you really think you can give her what Stormhart can?”

Damien’s fangs punched against his gums. The urge to strike back intense. But this was her brother. And it would be a lot easier for them all if the Alphahole liked him.

He took a breath. Took a step back. “Did Scarlett say she wanted Stormhart?”

Luc’s stare slid away. “No.”

Relief slammed through Damien. “Well then, there’s your answer.”

“Not by half.” Luc’s voice was still low, but it carried a new strain of urgency. “Don’t let your ego get in the way. You may have something to prove—hells, we all do—but don’t let chase it at Scarlett’s expense. We all sacrifice for the ones we love. You want to prove you’re really the kind of Alpha she can count on? Let Stormhart win.”

The male stormed out.

But his words remained, echoing in Damien’s head.

We all sacrifice for the ones we love. You want to prove you’re really the kind of Alpha she can count on? Let Stormhart win.

Fuck that.

Striking out, he swept his forearm across the table and sent a handful of lined-up containers flying off the table.

A couple of fighters cursed. A few more jumped out of the way as the cannisters clattered to the floor. All gave him dirty looks.

He didn’t give a shit.

Luc’s words pricked at him. Did Scarlett have reservations like her brother? Was there some part of her that wondered if Stormhart would make a better match? There was no denying there were benefits to being the prime omega of an Alpha from an established Brotherhood family—and he could promise until he was blue in the face that his family would be Brotherhood one rotation soon, but they weren’t now.

His claws burst from his skin, another wave of aggression roiling through him.

Through intense force of will, he forced his claws to retract before any of the other fighters caught sight and thought he was issuing a challenge. He could only imagine what Scarlett’s brother or Egan would say if he got into another brawl now.

He had to play it cool.

Trouble was, he’d heard enough about fated mates to know that they were rare and that most Alphas avoided such pairings because it was said to lead to out-of-control behavior, bad choices, and even mental instability.

A description that fit his current mood way too well.

But screw that.

That wasn’t what was happening here. He was just a little on edge because the stakes were so high.

Being with Scarlett was everything good and right and he was going to do right by her.

He could protect her. Better than anyone.

He would prove her brother wrong. Just like he’d show his family he could be counted on.

Rolling his shoulders back, he shook off the weight of Luc’s words—and signaled to Crex to rejoin him on the training mats for another round.

Fighters couldn’t second-guess. Or allow doubt to creep in. It screwed with response times. Threw off your whole rhythm. Which left you open to mistakes. Then you found yourself in trouble and, before you knew it, you were hit with a sucker punch you never saw coming.

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