Page 111 of Forsaken Oath

Her fingers continue their soothing path through my hair as I take a shuddering breath, trying to calm the fear still churning in my gut. “I saw the smoke, and then I couldn’t find you. I thought—” My voice cracks, the words lodged in my throat.

Eloise’s hands still for a moment before she gently urges my head up, cupping my face between her palms. Her golden amber eyes search mine, worry and confusion swirling in their depths. “Beau, I’m okay. I promise.”

I turn my head, pressing a kiss to her palm, needing to feel her. “Let’s get out of here, Peach. I just need to take care of something quick.”

“Alright,” she says, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

I turn, catching her lips in a hard, fast kiss. “Wait right here.”

I push to my feet and stalk toward my car. Popping the trunk, I move a duffel bag out of the way and snag my baseball bat.

I whistle as I close the trunk, swinging the bat over my shoulder and walk toward the Camaro, its shitty paint job glinting in the fading light. The weight of the bat is familiar in my grip, the smooth surface worn from years of use. It’s not just for playing ball, and the poor bastard in the Camaro is about to find that out firsthand.

I stroll across the clearing, my boots crunching on the dry grass and dirt. The air is heavy with the acrid stench of burning rubber and gasoline from the wrecked car, but I barely even notice.

“Beau? What’re you doing?”

My girl’s voice cuts through the celebratory din, and I spin around to face her, still walking backward. “Did you know I used to play ball, Peach?”

She shakes her head, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. “No.”

My heart clenches at how close I came to losing her tonight. How fucking scared I was at the prospect.

“I was one hell of a cleanup hitter,” I say with a cocky grin, giving her a wink.

I spin back around, my fingers flexing on the grip of the bat as I close the distance to the Camaro in a few long strides. The driver’s side window is halfway down, some shitty rap music blaring from the speakers. And Trent fucking Wallis sitting in the driver’s seat.

I see the moment he realizes he fucked up, eyes wide and hands scrambling.

I point at him with the end of my bat. “I fuckin’ warned you. And I warned your shitbag boss.” I don’t give him time to drive away or think, just enough time to duck.

The bat connects with the window in a glorious explosion of shattered glass. Shards rain down like a thousand glittering diamonds, catching the fading light and scattering it like raindrops.

Music still plays, but conversation has ground to a halt. I feel everyone’s eyes on me, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m used to it.

In fact, maybe people need a fucking visual. I readjust my grip on the bat, determined to give it to them.

Wallis thunders, “What the fuck, Carter?”

“I told you.” I take out his side mirror in one swing. “You mess with my girl, it’s a declaration of war.” I take out his headlights.

The sound of shattering glass fills the air as I methodically work my way around Wallis’ car, the bat connecting with metal and plastic in a satisfying cacophony of destruction.

“Are you fucking insane?” Wallis shouts, scrambling out of the driver’s side. His face is a mask of fear and anger, his hands held up in a placating gesture. “It’s just a fucking race, man!”

I pause, the bat resting on my shoulder as I level him with a cold stare. “Wrong. Consider this your formal warning.”

“Fine, you crazy motherfucker,” Wallis spits.

I swing the bat over my shoulder, whistling as I stroll back to my girl. Slowly, the chatter starts back up.

“Carter’s fuckin’ crazy.”

“Jesus Christ, who even is that girl?”

“Wallis should’ve known better.”

I let the commentary roll off my back like water on a duck. I don’t give a fuck what they say or think. As long as they get the message: Eloise Hawthorne is mine.

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