Page 67 of Filthy Beginnings

He’s already caught sight of the destination flashing across the navigation screen just off to the right: Abzal.

They were taking him home. Only place he wanted to go.

He let his head drop back against the shuttle wall.

She was probably with Stormhart already. Might even now be signing the contract that would make her his prime omega: Scarlett Stormhart.

His stomach lurched, bile burning at the back of his throat.

Rage filled him. Hate too.

Kadon Stormhart now had everything Damien had once wanted.

Luc must be pleased, the consortium too. And Egan was gone, so that was one less worry for them all.

It had all worked out—except not for him.

He shifted on the hard seat. He’d never felt younger. Or dumber. Or more lost.

He still couldn’t fathom why she’d done it. But then again, her brother had warned him: Stormhart had always been the smarter choice.

Guess she’d wised up just in time.

Their dry humping against the wall her farewell sendoff before she chose security and wealth and a family with Brotherhood connections over some bruiser with none of the above.

Orgasms were nice, but they didn’t keep a female’s belly full or offer the kind of legitimacy a prize would crave.

Lesson learned.

His gaze returned to the navigation screen, and he kept it together by watching the distance to his home grow less and less.

He was so damned glad to be heading back to his family to lick his wounds.

And refocus. Find his purpose once more.

First things first, locate Crex’s family and do whatever he could to ensure his friend’s six sisters were safe.

He owed Crex that much.

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

He’d taken his knocks. Emerged, bruised and bloody. What’s more, he was returning 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 hurt. Let it burn through him. Let it sear away everything but the determination to make sure one rotation in the future Scarlett would regret 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.

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