The Promise
Prologue
My fingers trembleas I finish reading the letter written with a scrawl that I’d know anywhere. Nancy has been acting oddly, making cryptic statements about my past, and then walking off when I’ve asked her questions about it.
I can’t say that she and I have the best marriage by any stretch of the imagination. I settled down with her so that I wouldn’t have the expectation from the mafia families to date or have children. I also hoped that it would direct the need I have to help others in the appropriate way. Nancy told me once that I have a savior complex. The bitch insisted on driving it home by telling me that I couldn’t save everyone.
The words I just read remind me of how true this is. The strongest omega in the world begged me to get to know and take care of our daughter while she still had time, and I never responded. I was robbed of the chance to fulfill her last request of me.
I couldn’t save my Bea. She’s the woman that I have been in love with since I was in my early twenties, the woman who quietly rejected our scent match and walked away because it wasn’t safe enough for our child. There are so many truths thatshe laid bare on the pages in my hand. I had been searching for her for years, but that stopped once I married Nancy ten years ago.
I told myself it was for the best that I put my search to bed. Nancy hid this letter from me, and I need to know why.
My hand fists around the last words Beatrice was ever able to say to me before forcing myself to loosely hold the paper. It would be a shame to destroy them because I couldn’t control my temper. I let Bea down, all because I did what I thought was my duty.
Fuck. I have a kid out there.I never thought I’d get to be a dad, and now I’ve missed out on so much with her. God, what if she’s dead like her mother? It’s been so long since this letter was written, and a lot could have changed. The world isn’t kind to omegas without a safety network. It’s a miracle and a testament to how strong Bea was that she was able to keep them both afloat.
Time and age is a thief, especially when she was a few years younger than me.
My feet begin moving before I can think, and I find Nancy in the garden outside. It’s beautiful and warm out here, the sun is shining, but I can’t appreciate it. It feels as if there’s less joy in the world now.
The patio is in need of some care. What if I find Aisling and she wants to spend time out here? Fuck, I need to make sure to update the patio furniture. My mind is racing, trying to hold on to thoughts that won’t help me right now as I struggle with the information I just found out.
There’s a huge weight on my heart, and it grows heavier with every passing moment. Nancy promised she’d be a good wife to me, despite the fact that I wasn’t attracted to her. I’ve tried everything, but Bea was the only woman that I’ve ever wanted.
She was my entire life, until she left me.
“Nancy,” I say, my voice full of emotion as I carefully put the letter in my back pocket for safekeeping.
I only found it because the drawer was slightly opened in the front hallway when I walked past the large wooden desk. It’s purely decorative, and belonged to my father. Outside of the maids coming through to polish the wood, nothing should be amiss there.
And yet there was.
My chest is heaving as I pick up the shovel behind me, and my skin feels as if it’s on fire. The betrayal is bitter on my tongue, and the knowledge that Nancy hid this from me for two goddamned years has me gripping the shovel with a firm double grip.
Her reasons shouldn’t be important, but I’ll be pulling them from her regardless. Whether it was fear, pettiness, or jealousy that I have a lost daughter out there somewhere with my rejected scent match, it doesn’t matter. Judgement day is here.
And I will be collecting it in buckets filled with my wife’s blood.
“Yes?” Nancy asks smoothly, without turning around. She has no idea what is coming for her. She simply continues to fidget with her flowers. We have someone who takes care of the garden, but she says she enjoys having her fingers in the soil.
Yet, her nails are always perfect, so I don’t know how much she actually does out here. There are bulbs on a towel where she’s placing each one into the ground, yet I’ll need to tell the gardener to take care of it since Nancy won’t be able to.
No use letting them wither and die.
“You do know that keeping mail from me is a federal offense, right?” I ask her.
Hayes, my enforcer, steps outside to join us on silent feet, his gaze on the shovel that I am gripping like a bat. There’s barely a glimpse of interest behind those blue eyes. He’s simplywaiting to pull her out of sight to the shed at the back of the property once I’m ready for him to do so. There’s no questions, nor hesitation.
No one else can know what I’m about to do.
Slowly turning, Nancy’s gaze drops to the shovel I’m holding. Instead of fear, a cruel smile graces her lips.
“Are you going to use that, or does your failure to execute continue past your dick?” she asks.
My swing makes a perfect arch as I hit her in the head with the shovel, my brow raised as her body drops. By sheer stubbornness, she continues to remain conscious, pushing herself onto her forearms as blood pours from the cut at her temple.
Head wounds bleed like a bitch.
