Page 58 of Knot Your Pucking Secret

The only way I can ensure our future isn’t chained to my past is to let my past go completely. Brett has taken enough from me. He doesn’t get another second.

Not of my life.

Not of my pack.

Days after Sasha’s surgery, I finally told Dom, Holden and Sasha that I wanted to be their Omega. I have never felt more loved or seen in my entire life.

I’m finally living.

We’ve been patiently waiting for my next heat to hit so they are able to bond me. Sure, we could have done it earlier, but waiting for my next heat felt like the right choice. Some things deserve to happen exactly as nature intended.

That way, we also had the perfect excuse to be held up in my nest for days on end. After a few days of elevated temperatures and heat spikes, we know my heat is going to hit any moment now. I can feel it in my stomach, lingering beneath my skin. Waiting to strike. Almost like it knows I have one last thing I need to do before I am ready.

I need to kill Brett.

Only then can I belong to them completely.

Each one of my pack mates offered to kill the motherfucker for me more than once. But I denied them. I need to be the one that delivers the killing blow.

This part belongs to me.

It always has.

I need the closure it will bring.

After tonight, there will be nothing left standing between the woman I was, and the Omega I’m about to become.

Brett’s body hangs from the ceiling, hidden in a decrepit bunker just outside of Vadena. He barely resembles the polishedbusinessman who walked into my apartment three months ago. His entire body is covered in dried blood, the wounds deliberately left to fester over the last two weeks. Infection has long since stolen the fight from him, leaving only the hollow shell of the man who believed money was everything. One eye is swollen shut. His lips are split beyond recognition. Every shallow breath rattles through his chest like his body is begging for permission to finally give up.

It never gets it.

Sasha throws a bucket of gasoline over his body. The liquid soaks into torn skin and open wounds, dragging a scream so raw from Brett’s throat that it echoes through the bunker long after he’s finished making the sound.

I don’t flinch.

Three months ago, I might have.

Today, all I feel is relief.

The end is finally here.

At one point in time, I would have been horrified at seeing the sight before me. But fate chose perfectly when they named me the Omega of a pack whose name is quite literally translated to the “Art of Dying”.

Once the screaming dies down, I flick the lighter in my hands a few times, watching it ignite and fade. Fire doesn’t care who you used to be. It doesn’t negotiate. Doesn’t forgive. It simply consumes until there’s nothing left worth remembering.

Maybe that’s why this feels so fitting. Brett tried to reduce my life to ashes. But tonight, I get to watch him burn.

With a smile, I flick open the lighter and throw it in the puddle of gasoline pooled at Brett’s feet. His screams are like music to my ears as the flames encase his entire body. He thrashes violently, like that will somehow help his case. The fire races over him with a hunger that almost feels alive, swallowingthe lies, the greed, the man who thought he could rewrite my family’s story for his own gain.

The threads of his clothes burn and melt into his flesh, the scent fucking horrific, but I withstand it. For my parents. For their legacy that was almost destroyed by the face of a person they had once trusted. I withstand it for my Alphas and Beta. For myself. For all of the pain that I suffered through. For the fight I had to go through in order to keep the things that were rightfully mine.

I withstand it because grief made me weak. Love made me dangerous.

I endure it for the Omegas and women who weren’t able to fight their demons. Who fell at the hands of the people of their abusers. People who were supposed to love them.

For every person who never got to watch their monster burn.

Eventually, Brett’s body goes slack, the fire finally claiming his life.