Page 57 of Knot Your Pucking Secret

Brett’s lips tremble, and all the color drains from his face, wiping away every last trace of arrogance. His knees buckle. A broken sob tears from his throat as every ounce of fight leaves his body.

“You don’t get to fuck with my family and live to tell the tale,” Dominic says, leaning in until his lips are barely an inch from Brett’s ear. “From this moment on, every breath you take belongs to me, and when we’re done, you’ll pray I’d pulled the trigger instead.”

Epilogue

Lennon

Fire has always been a funny thing. People fear it because it destroys, because it leaves nothing behind but ash and ruin. But they forget that fire also cleanses. It burns away the rot and strips the world back until all that’s left is the truth.

Brett spent so long trying to reduce my life to ashes. My parents’ legacy. My future. My pack. My identity. Piece by piece, he tried to convince me I belonged hidden away while he stole everything that should have been mine. Tonight, the only thing turning to ash is him.

Not because revenge heals. It doesn’t.

Because some endings have to be earned.

Some monsters deserve a funeral, no one mourns, and some fires were always destined to be lit.

Who knew a little maiming was all an Omega needed to get her power back?

For three months now, I have spent at least three days a week down in the cellar of an abandoned bunker on one of Dominic’s properties. Not only is he well versed across a range of areas, he also has a pretty decent real estate portfolio, one that he likesto keep under wraps, apparently. That suited us perfectly well, especially when it came to my needing to torture my uncle. It’s a little extreme to go to such lengths, but the motherfucker chose to fuck around. He has certainly found out.

Turns out, spending weeks tied to a chair gives a man plenty of time to start talking. After a little encouragement, Brett finally admitted there was correspondence between him and Patrick. Emails. Phone calls. Meetings. Years’ worth of planning hidden behind fake smiles and expensive suits. Patrick didn’t just decide to murder my parents on a whim. And it wasn’t just because he wanted my mother for himself. Brett was there from the very beginning, feeding him information, promising him a cut of my inheritance if they got rid of the only people standing in the way. My parents were collateral damage. They were targets. Their blood bought Brett the future he thought he was entitled to. He hadn’t known of the role my grandfather played in investing the money. He had kept everything under wraps for the hope that one day I’d find my way back home. My grandfather knew nothing. He only had his instincts.

He was right.

Apparently, Patrick didn’t have the heart to follow through with his end of the deal, and instead, raised me as his own. But none of that excuses the damage they caused.

Nothing ever will.

Every birthday they stole from me. Every Christmas. Every hug I never got to have. Every piece of advice they never got to give me. Brett didn’t just steal my parents. Their pack. He stole an entire life from me. And for what? Money. An inheritance he never had the right to touch.

Monsters rarely look like monsters.

He gambled my family’s future for a pay cheque, then smiled in my face while pretending to care about me. We mourned them together once I learned the truth. He watched me grieve forpeople he helped put in the ground. He let me believe fate had taken them, that Patrick was alone in all this, when all along, it had been him. And those kinds of things no prison sentence will ever repay. His begging for his life eventually turned into pleas for me to end it. But I refused. He doesn’t get the relief a simple, swift death will bring.

No. He has to suffer for what he did to not only me but to my Alpha. To my parents. To every version of me that spent so long wondering why life had been so cruel. Now I know.

Life wasn’t cruel.

Brett was.

Sasha’s bullet wound was thankfully nothing more than a flesh wound. A simple entry and exit straight through the muscle, not hitting bone or anything major. He completed his last round of physical therapy last week and was cleared to return to play week five of the new hockey season.

Every day he got stronger. Every day Brett got weaker.

I like to think the universe has a twisted sense of balance.

Sure, I could have let the law deal with Brett’s ass. I could have easily sued him through the teeth, taking everything he owned before I saw him locked away for the rest of his miserable life. But none of that would have tasted as sweet as watching him suffer.

Justice would have given me a verdict.

This gave me peace.

Watching the man who thought he was untouchable beg for death was worth more than every dollar he tried to steal. My pack isn’t the only ones with questionable morals. Mine were thrown in the trash the moment I fell in love with two merciless Alphas and their Beta.

But the day has finally come. The day that Brett needs to pay for what he’d done. With the season preparations currently underway, I can’t give my focus to both him and the game.

I have a Stanley Cup I want to keep with the team for another year, at least.