Prologue Birth

PROLOGUE: BIRTH

Bramley

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO

I have her eyes.

Crystal blue right around the pupil.

Most of the iris is aquamarine.

There’s a dark cobalt ring around the outer edge, a circle separating the color from the white.

Those are her eyes.

I have them.

We all do.

Pap said it’s a good thing, sharing something like that; it keeps her close, keeps her alive .

Rex couldn’t look at any of us for two days, almost three, without falling apart or losing his shit.

When he drank himself stupid and lost it in the form of hitting me in the face, it was a glaring reminder of their bond and how something inside of him died when she did. How it might not be so great for him to keep her that close.

My father felt awful as soon as he hit me. He’d never laid a hand on me before, not even when I was a kid, so punching me in a fit of liquor-fueled grief gutted him. I’m the one with the bruise, but he felt the pain one thousand times worse.

The loss was just too much for him to handle.

But we all lost a part of us when my mother died.

Ezekiel was grieving just as fiercely, especially now that they were the only two left, but when that happened, he stepped up as a father and checked Rex before rolling right into his position as a grieving mate. He took my dad and hid them both away in their cabin for a few days, far away from any unwanted reminders or obvious symbols of a love lost—a time of mourning in her space. A cooling off period alone, to process their feelings more appropriately, hoping they’d be able to pull it together for the four of us, for our little town, and those who’d suffered a tremendous amount of pain in such a short period of time.

So much goddamn loss.

I stare at the fading bruise, yellows and purples painted around my right eye like a fucking target. Emphasizing the shared trait, we won’t ever be able to forget. A feature I want to both cherish and carve out of the sockets, so no one has to see it anymore.

But I can’t.

None of us can and if we want to make it through the next few hours, let alone the rest of this new and fucked up reality, we’re all going to have to get our shit in check.

Sticking my fingers in the collar of my shirt, I pop the top button, then aggressively loosen my tie.

I feel like I’m suffocating.

The clothes, the people. It’s all too much, it’s overwhelming, and I feel like I can’t fucking breathe.

That phone call didn’t help, either.

We knew it was more. It was fucking obvious that it wasn’t some goddamn disease that wiped out all the omegas in Obsidian Falls, but I wasn’t expecting Zeke to call me with the truth on his way back here.

Dumping the actual cause of death in my lap the same morning we have to bury our mother?

Unexpected is an understatement.

He wouldn’t leave it alone, though.

My brother knew in his bones the same way I did that this was foul play and, considering who his best friend is, Zeke was able to push, and he dug, and he found out exactly what we suspected all along.

Bryce Harden .

I lower my hands and lean forward, closing my eyes as my fingers curl over the edge of the sink and grip the porcelain until my knuckles feel like they’re going to tear through my skin. I clench my jaw against the way my stomach twists, against the way my throat gets tight, and my mouth goes dry. Tiny white spots form against the darkness, blanketing my sight, and I squeeze my eyes shut while my head starts to spin.

Bryce fucking Harden.

My fist connects with the mirror, the glass shattering seconds before the thought of hitting it crosses my mind. I practically growl as I do it again, shards piercing my flesh, stabbing down to the bone before I open my eyes and punch the fucking mirror into dust.

I drop my chin to my chest as I take a few deep breaths, trying like hell to regulate my anger, once again bracing myself against the sink with my good hand so I don’t go clean through the brick wall.

Now isn’t the time, and this isn’t the place.

But I am so goddamn angry.

Angry and full of rage.

I’m teetering right on the fucking edge, a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode and…

I lift my head and turn as Clay steps into the doorway, a sad, soft smile pulling at his lips.

“Hey,” he says quietly as his deep brown eyes immediately start scanning my disheveled and bloody appearance. “Jesus, Bram.”

Ignoring the immediate change in his demeanor, I reach back toward the sink and turn it on.

“You’re lucky Pap and Nan know the owners.”

“They are the owners,” I grunt, his attempt at humor falling on deaf ears as he walks into the room.

He knows that, everyone fucking knows that, and if Grampa George were still around, he’d be wigging out over the amount of business his chapel and funeral home are doing. Pap and Nan are far too sad to think about it now, all the unfortunate business they’ve been getting, but when they do, I’m sure they’ll head to the family plot and let him know.

And for some fucked up reason, that makes me smile.

Clay moves to my side, gently rolling up my shirt sleeve before carefully sticking my shredded hand under the warm water. “I haven’t seen you smile…” He shakes his head. “Did you really have to do this?”

Anger flares at his words as my eyes cut to his in what’s left of the mirror. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Point out how wildly inappropriate it is for you to be isolated from your family so you can destroy a bathroom before your mother’s funeral?”

“Clay,” I bark in warning, flexing my fingers as he attempts to pull out a piece of glass.

“You’re supposed to be in mourning, Bramley. Not doing everything you’ve been doing while we wait to lay Maeve to rest. You’re going to bottle all this shit up?—”

“I have been in mourning.”

My beta arches a brow in challenge and I fucking snap.

I yank my hand from his and point a bloody finger in his face. “I’ve done nothing but fucking mourn, Clayton. Done nothing but be with my family during this shit.”

“Bram—”

“My little brother and sister, they’ve practically been living with us the last week and a half. I’ve been up all hours of the night with Tempy while she cries so hard she makes herself sick, while she begs me to bring Mom back. Titus won’t fucking talk to anyone, just sits in the basement staring at the goddamn walls. I swear he’s about to snap. Tus is gonna go postal or something and I can’t blame him, but he won’t fucking talk to me about any of it.” I start to pace, that rage I’ve been bottling up simmering right under my skin. “And Zeke? I thought he could handle this better than the thirteen-year-old twins, but we’ve all seen how fucking paranoid he’s gotten, how he made this into some conspiracy theory.”

“Bramley,” Clay says softly as he steps toward me. “I didn’t?—”

“That’s not even including all the shit with my dad and Ezekiel, all the attempts to make sure they don’t do something stupid.” I let out a hollow laugh as I loosen a few more buttons on my shirt. “He fucking hit me, Clayton. Rex hit me because I look too goddamn much like my mother, and I stood there and let him. I’ve done nothing but fucking mourn with my family because I had no goddamn choice, and you know what?”

My beta shakes his head and waits for me to continue.

“I’m fucking done mourning.”

“What does that mean?”

“I want my fucking revenge.” I spin on my heel and storm through the door, ready to call this entire thing off and go find Bryce Harden myself, but when I feel a hand on my shoulder, I stop.

Clayton turns me around to face him, immediately cupping my cheeks in his hands as his eyes lock in with mine. “Sit down and breathe, Bramley.”

Gritting my teeth, I allow my beta to plant my ass in a chair, pressing down on my shoulders to make sure I actually settle. “What happened?”

I turn my head, staring at the closed door of the private room while biting my tongue. Clay is just trying to help, trying to be the unconditional-in-all-ways saint he is, and he doesn’t deserve to be treated like shit because I’m ornery and sad.

“Talk to me, Bram,” he says with a sigh as he crouches in front of me. “You came flying out of the office like a bat out of hell and we wanted to follow you, but we didn’t. We gave you space, assuming that’s what you needed, but considering the way you treated that mirror, maybe that was the wrong thing to do.”

I huff and roll my eyes.

Three years in and he’s still trying to figure me out.

Not his fault, though.

I haven’t made this easy on him or Nash, and it isn’t really fair that I have them both read like my favorite book when they’re constantly flying by the seat of their pants just to keep up with me.

“Jesus. You are so fucking tense.” My gaze swings back toward Clayton as he starts working the muscles in my legs. “You want to tell me about that phone call?”

One shake of my head.

I’m not fucking ready to dive into that, and he’s right. Today isn’t the day to be a raging psychopath. We need to get through my mother’s funeral and then I can go ape shit. Which means keeping my trap shut about my phone call and praying to a god I don’t believe in that I won’t have an aneurysm from how fucking tense I am.

“You want to let me fix your hand?”

Another shake.

My beta sighs, digging his slender fingers into my calves before slowly moving them up toward my thighs.

I am fucking tense, tense and stressed the fuck out on top of everything else.

Grief and loss are devastating, keeping my family together has been hard but I’m also a few months into opening my own business so I’m running on goddamn fumes and haven’t really had time to process my own feelings and shit. Just like Clay was trying to say earlier.

“You want me to suck your cock?”

My eyes snap to his as my beta starts working the muscles dangerously close to my groin. “What the fuck did you just ask me?”

He shrugs one shoulder as one of his hands moves to my belt while the other slides closer to my dick. “It’s been a while.” Clay looks up at me with a grin, those deep brown eyes sparkling in the low lighting. “A few months, I think. Ever since you opened the shop.”

“Clayton,” I grunt, as he rests his palm on my crotch. “You were just giving me shit about…” With a sharp inhale, I watch him give me a squeeze through my slacks and get to his knees, the smell of shortbread flaring as he pushes my thighs open to make room for him.

That fucking scent.

“It’ll clear your head; make you feel better even if it’s only for a few minutes.” He starts rubbing me as he undoes my belt. “I think you need this, Bramley, and I know how much you love it. Watching me suck you off and swallow you down.”

I can’t argue with that.

I fucking love watching Clay go down on me, but I’m not sure this is the time or the place for it.

Hell, who am I kidding.

I don’t fucking care.

I love my mother with my entire heart, but I’m not a real sentimental guy, not in that way, and we’re just burying her body. She already returned to the universe, she’s not the one lying in that casket anymore. Plus, I busted that mirror after I already destroyed Pap’s office—something they don’t know yet—so my moral compass is pretty much shot to hell.

Not that that’s saying much, it was nearly nonexistent before today so who the fuck cares if my beta gives me a blowjob before a funeral.

My mother wouldn’t give a shit. I can see the look on her face, hear the tone she’d use if Clay and I walked out of this room after I finished fucking his mouth. Maeve Ambrose would not give one flying fuck, and chances are she’d laugh about it while she made sure we were presentable enough to go to the service.

And good head is good head.

It will loosen me up, it’ll clear my mind, and I don’t doubt at all that it’ll help me figure out how to handle Bryce Harden.

“Take it out,” I say as I give in, a rumble of satisfaction coming from my chest as Clay doesn’t hesitate. He opens my fly and works my pants down my thighs just enough to free my cock, another shot of shortbread hitting me as he does.

I’m already hard and getting harder by the second, it doesn’t take much with him and it’s even easier after a few months of nothing, and knowing he’s turned on by doing this for me drives me crazy. Especially as my beta waits for me to tell him what to do. I fucking love that, too.

We don’t have time for it right now, though.

As soon as my brother gets here, the funeral will start, and my fucking hand is still bleeding all over the floor, so this has to be quick.

“You know what I like, sweetheart. Put me in your mouth and show me.”

And he does.

Clayton spits in his hand before he does the same to my dick, working his saliva from the engorged head all the way to my swollen knot.

That’s where he stays.

As my beta licks from balls to tip, running his tongue between them all the way along the underside of my knot and shaft, then focusing underneath the sensitive head before slipping it between his lips. His hand stays on my knot because he knows what I need, and the way he works it is exactly that.

He hums as he starts to suck, bobbing on my cock as his cheeks hollow out, Clayton twisting his wrist as he strokes and squeezes my knot. Teasing it as his lips stop just above it, teasing me as the head hits the back of his throat.

No gag reflex.

Clay doesn’t have one and the way he can deep throat is second to none.

And he knows I’d lock in if I could knot his fucking mouth, it drives me insane that I can’t and that’s exactly why he teases me when the situation presents itself.

Normally, that’d earn him a punishment.

Making me wait, teasing me. That’s my fucking game but since we can’t play, Clayton is doing what he wants.

Or so he thinks.

“You want my cum, sweetheart?” I whisper as I move his hair out of his eyes. He looks up at me, bobbing a little quicker, working my shaft with his tongue as I bury the fingers of my right hand in his dark blond hair. “Want your alpha to feel good while he comes down your throat?”

Clayton moans around my cock as I push him down on it, his spit sliding over my knot as he slips his hands under my shirt and over my abs.

“So sloppy.” I tilt my head and watch intently as he starts to take a little more of me down his throat.

I fucking love that, too. When he’s so into giving me head that it gets sloppy and makes a mess of both of us, when it drives him just as crazy that I can’t knot him at all.

“Are you hard, Clayton?”

He nods and lets out another moan, splaying his thighs as I move my leg between them.

“You want me to touch you?”

Another nod.

“You want?—”

“About twenty minutes until… fucking figures.”

We both look to see Nash walk in with a frown then quickly close the door behind him.

My beta releases me with a pop, working my dick in his hand as he says, “He needs it, Bo. He fucked up the mirror.”

I smirk as Nash walks toward us, his cock growing behind his fly with each step, Clay’s nickname for him causing a cloud of chamomile to hit us. “Which explains the blood.”

Clayton resumes sucking my dick as I push him back down onto it, my breathing getting ragged when he picks up the pace. My alpha sits on the arm of the chair next to me, his obvious erection level with my bicep but he ignores it and lifts my hand into his lap to begin working on it.

“This couldn’t wait?”

“No,” I grunt as Clay circles my knot with his tongue.

Nash shakes his head as he starts plucking glass from my knuckles. “Not until later, not even for me?” he whispers.

Titling my head back, I look up at him and raise my eyebrows. “Don’t pout.”

“I’m not,” he snaps back.

Which makes me smile before I hiss between my teeth, leaning heavily into him as the combination of Clayton deep throating my dick and Nash yanking broken glass from my hand sends me right to the edge.

“Fuck.” My fingers dig into my alpha’s thigh, squeezing tight as he picks up on how much I like the pain with my pleasure.

Nash loses his gentleness as my knot swells against Clayton’s lips, aggressively tugging the pieces free as my body tries to lock into place while the first rope of my cum fires down my beta’s throat.

Fuck .

I toss my head back again, ready to roar out my long overdue release but before I can, Nash slams his mouth down over mine, kissing me so goddamn hard while he grips my throat and cuts me off.

My hips lift as Clay hums against my cock, swallowing my cum, my knot impossibly swollen right against his sinful mouth. Nash shoves his tongue between my lips, kissing me roughly while he digs at the glass in my hand, ripping with each jerky thrust down my beta’s throat.

This is exactly what I need, who I need right now and as soon as I’m done emptying myself and can form words, I’ll make sure they both know it.

“Fuck me,” I growl into Nash’s mouth as my cum spills all over my pelvis, the scent of cinnamon bark overpowering as it runs down my shaft and most likely coats my beta’s cheeks and chin.

I fucking love the way our scents mix like this.

“You definitely can’t let that happen again,” Clay says as my dick finally softens enough to give him his face back. “I was hungry before all that and now I’m so full I might not be able to eat dinner.”

I let out a breathy chuckle as Nash smiles against my lips, both of us turning to a very aroused beta sitting on his ass between my knees. “That so?”

Clay nods but smiles slowly. “You have thoughts.”

“I do.”

“Which means I’m going to have to leave your hand alone until later,” Nash says with a sigh.

“True.” I arch a brow. “Unless you don’t want Clayton to suck you off too?”

But Nash is already off the chair, undoing his slacks, and getting into position. “I didn’t say that.”

“And I’m not that full.” My beta quickly moves to his hands and knees as my alpha sits on the floor in front of me, his cock out and leaking already.

Nash settles with his back to the chair between my legs and just when Clay is about to start, I stop them.

“I want to see.” They both turn to me. “I want to watch Clayton suck your dick while you jerk him off. It’s the only way I’ll let either of you leave, and it’s the only thing to tide me over until we get home.”

Clenching my jaw, I lift the glossy mahogany wood onto my shoulder, gripping the gold and pearl handle tightly.

My release and the calm it brought me was temporary.

It was what I needed, and Clayton’s goal was achieved, but it was brief.

Fleeting.

The moment I walked into the funeral and saw Rex and Ezekiel, saw my brothers and sister sitting in the front row of the chapel, all that unbridled rage came roaring to the forefront once again.

Then watching them all cry as they said goodbye to my mother, as the preacher closed the lid to cover the beautiful face of an even more beautiful person? It was everything I could do to keep myself in check.

And now, carrying her casket out of the church, both of my younger brothers walking ahead of me, my father and his alpha, my grandfather to my side…

Blood will spill.

Bones will break.

Heads will roll.

I will keep our town safe but more importantly, I will avenge every single omega who was taken from it.

I will make those who are responsible pay, I will be the justice for those who were lost, for those who lost someone, and I will do it in the most brutal, the most painful and gruesome way I can.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, we stop and wait for the hearse to pull up, for the driver to get out and open the back.

I see red as my family steps away from the casket, loading it inside the black steel with tears in their eyes. My stare lands on each of their faces, my father and his mate trying and failing to remain stoic, Titus staring at the hearse blankly as a loan tear slips down his cheek. Zeke presses the heel of his hand into his eye as he wraps his arm around him and holds tight, our younger brother showing no emotion save for that single track on his face.

When they close the door with my mother securely inside, Tempest almost falls as she lunges toward it, screaming her pain as she cries out for the woman who gave us life.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper as I wrap her in a hug, my sister burying her face in my chest as she sobs. “I’ve got you, Tempy, and I promise I’m never going to let anything happen to you.”

The line of black cars behind the hearse idle in the street, waiting for us to get in and follow but I just stand there, staring at the casket through the window while I run my hand over my sister’s hair.

They say I have her eyes, and I can only hope the sick truth in that means she’ll get to see everyone I butcher in her honor.

Because I will butcher every single motherfucker who had anything to do with her death, and I’ll do it with a goddamn smile on my face.