Betrayed: Book Two - The Road to Redemption

by Nicky Charles

  “I’m sorry to bother you Sam, but… Do you have a moment?”

  “Sure.” She set down the pen she’d been using to sign the monthly reports. That was one change, she thought idly. Now that she was officially listed as Alpha there was no need to get her grandfather to initial the paperwork. “Is there something wrong with my grandfather?”

  She’d avoided her grandfather as much as possible since the challenge, a short weekly visit was all she could handle right now. The knowledge that he’d once supported The Cause still didn’t sit well with her.

  Florence settled down on the edge of the chair and folded her hands neatly in her lap. “Your grandfather’s well. He wishes you’d stop in and visit more often, though.”

  “Has he said that?”

  “No, not in so many words.”

  “I didn’t think so.” Sam gave a bitter smile. “You know, I used to wonder why he never hugged me. I assumed he was just reserved. I never imagined it was because I didn’t meet his standards of purity.”

  “Now, Sam, don’t be like that.” Florence shook her head. “He’s the same man he was before you found out about him being part of The Cause. He really does miss you.”

  “Right.” Sam got to her feet and made a show of filing some papers. “I’m quite sure he doesn’t miss having my impure self around.”

  “That was years ago. He was young—”

  “Did you know him back then?” Sam interrupted, partly to change the topic and partly out of curiosity. She’d never asked much about Flo’s past, the woman had just always been there in the background, quietly doing her duty.

  “I did. I’ve known him all my life. I even had a crush on him as a young teen but he chose your grandmother. She was a much more suitable candidate for an Alpha’s mate than I was.”

  “That must have been hard, watching the two of them together.”

  Florence shrugged. “It was for the good of the pack, as your great-grandfather pointed out.”

  “My great-grandfather?”

  She nodded. “He made sure the two of them met. For your grandmother, it was love at first sight; your grandfather was a handsome devil in his day.” She smiled at the memory.

  “And how did my grandfather feel about the match?”

  “If he had his doubts he kept them to himself. Being Alpha was his calling and he did what he had to do.”

  “Duty. It’s one of his favourite words.” Sam thought of her tattoo; was she going to be like him as she grew older?

  “It is.” Florence picked at the material of her sweater before sliding a look up at her. “But duty doesn’t keep you warm at night or hold your hand when you grow old.”

  “Come again?”

  “Learn from his mistakes, Sam.”

  “You’d better not be hinting that he has a ‘suitable’ mate lined up for me!”

  “No. He cares too much for you to do that.”

  “He cares whether or not I’m a good Alpha. He wouldn’t want the family name to be tarnished.”

  “He paid to keep you safe from The Cause all these years.”

  “Safe? Or was it that I’m his only heir and he had to keep me alive so the family name didn’t die out?” She shut the filing cabinet drawer with more force than necessary.

  “Believe what you will.” Flo got to her feet, likely realizing she was arguing a lost cause. “I can see you’re as stubborn as he is.”

  “Flo?”

  “Yes?”

  “Has he ever told you he loves you?”

  “No. He’s not one to use the word; it’s the way he was raised, I suppose.” A shadow passed over the woman’s face before she continued. “But I love him, and I’ve waited for him while he’s done what he’s had to do. He’s never said the words, but words aren’t always needed, Sam. Someday, when you find your mate, you’ll understand.” She paused in the doorway. “Try to visit him. Please. I…I don’t ask for much, but this… It would mean a lot. Don’t make him pay for his sins forever.”

  Sam winced as her own thoughts from a moment ago were unknowingly thrown back at her. She nodded not knowing what to say and struck by the sadness in the woman’s eyes, the tired lines on her face. Apparently her grandfather’s happiness meant a lot to Florence.

  When the other woman left, Sam stared at the door wondering how Flo had ever forgiven her grandfather for choosing another. Yet she must have or she wouldn’t have stayed all these years. Maybe love was more about granting forgiveness than waiting for apologies. It was a hard concept for Sam to wrap her head around. Personally, if she loved someone, she’d fight for him, make him see that she was what he needed and wring an apology out of him.

  Then why aren’t we going after Damien? Her wolf twitched its ears.

  Sam frowned. “It’s completely different.”

  Really?

  “Yes. He lied to us.”

  He was trying to help a friend. He agreed to the job before he met us.

  “He also agreed to fight a challenge. He knew us by then. If he’d cared, he would have refused.”

  Do you think he was really trying during the fight? Might he have been holding back? Especially near the end. His leg giving out seemed almost too convenient, don’t you think?

  Had it been? She’d had enough bumps and bruises for it to feel like a ‘real’ fight. Was she really that good or had Damien had a change of heart and eased off his assault, tried to make it appear that he was faltering? There was no way of knowing.

  Sam sighed. Maybe her wolf was right. Maybe he’d decided to throw the fight. Did it really matter? He was gone now.

  He might still care but assumes you’d never forgive him.

  All right. For the sake of argument, she’d concede that point, too. The question now was how much did he care? And did she stand a chance against his dead mate?

  We’ll never know if we don’t try. You said you couldn’t be like Florence, that you’d fight for your mate.

  True. But she had absolutely no idea where he was.

  The phone rang. Time for her conference call with Sinclair and OPATA.

  Sinclair might know where Damien is.

  That wasn’t the purpose of the call. She was trying to negotiate for the future well-being of her pack. If Damien casually cropped up in the conversation maybe, just maybe, she’d try to slip in a question about his current location, but she wouldn’t be the one to bring it up.

  So Damien was headed to Canada. Sam mulled over that fact as she climbed the stairs an hour later. Her conversation with Sinclair had been productive and OPATA was impressed with the proposal she’d put for—

  “Samantha Harper!”

  The sound of her grandfather calling out her proper name had her stopping in her tracks. Being called ‘Samantha’ had always meant she was in deep trouble as a child and she automatically cringed in expectation of a browbeating.

  The door to his room was open and she could see him glaring at her from his recliner. She pursed her lips. He never left his door open and she suspected Flo had done it on purpose in the hopes of forcing her to stop in to visit. For a moment, she considered continuing on her way but then sighed and gave in to his implicit command.

  “Yes?” She stood just inside his room striving to keep her voice and expression neutral.

  “I need to talk to you. Sit.” His tone was as imperious as ever.

  Reluctantly she complied, entering the room and taking a seat. She stretched her legs out in front of her and slouched in the chair. It was posture that she knew would annoy him. Childish on her part, but she didn’t care.

  “You’re still angry with me.”

  She raised a brow and made no effort to deny the statement.

  “That’s fine. It’s your choice. I’ve explained myself once. I won’t do it again.” He fixed his eyes on her. “What I want to know is what you’re doing about the rogue?”

  “You mean Damien?”

  “Was there another rogue around here that I wasn’t aware of?”
/>   She made a face at his sarcasm. “No.”

  “Good. So what are you doing about him?”

  “Doing? There’s nothing to do. He’s gone.”

  “And you’re leaving it like that?”

  She shrugged. “He deceived us but there’s nothing to be gained by hunting him down.”

  “But you’d had your sights set on him as a mate.”

  She could feel her face warming. How had her grandfather picked up on that? Just when she thought his faculties weren’t as sharp as they used to be, he came up with an astute observation like this! Well, like the rich and famous she wouldn’t confirm or deny the report. “It doesn’t matter. He’s gone now.”

  “And you’re willing to leave it at that?”

  She clenched her hands in her lap. “I have the pack to take care of.”

  “What if you didn’t have the pack? What would you do then?

  Sam stood. His questions were beginning to irritate. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter. I’m the Alpha. It’s my duty to stay here.”

  “Duty and strength. Have you determined the third quality yet?”

  She blinked at his change of topic. “No. I’m still—”

  “I never did.” He looked away, his gnarled hands clutching the arms of his chair.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said, I never found the third quality. At least not until it was too late. By then I was set in my ways and the damage was done.”

  Her interest was piqued and she sat down once again. “I don’t understand.”

  He sighed. “I was ambitious. I wanted the pack to succeed, to be a name to be reckoned with.”

  “So…?”

  “I chose your grandmother as my mate. She was strong, had an excellent background, her family was wealthy. A perfect Alpha’s mate.”

  “And you eventually came to love her.”

  “No.” He looked at her, his expression regretful. “She loved me, but I didn’t love her. I wanted what she could bring to the pack. I thought it wouldn’t matter as long as I tried to make her happy.” He shook his head. “It didn’t work.”

  “But…” Sam frowned. This didn’t match the image she’d always had in her head. “Her antiques. You bought them for her. You’re always so concerned that I take care of them because they were hers.”

  “Buying the furniture was my way of trying to ease my guilt. I gave her everything she wanted…except my heart.” He cleared his throat. “I had it in my head strength and duty were enough. That anything else was a weakness.”

  Sam was silent, mulling over what she’d just learned and wondering why he’d felt the need to share the information now.

  He seemed to be able to read her thoughts. “I made decisions based on duty and strength. I was a good Alpha, but I could have done better. Now that you’re my successor, I expect you to exceed my accomplishments.”

  “Exceed?”

  “Do better. Don’t repeat my mistakes.”

  It gave her a strange feeling, to basically hear her grandfather admit he’d made mistakes. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Luckily, he solved the problem for her.

  “You can leave now. I need my nap. And Sam, I…” He paused, seeming to struggle with what he wanted to say. Finally, he cleared his throat and gave his head what appeared to be a regretful shake. “Don’t wait so long to visit next time.” And with that, he closed his eyes and settled into his chair for his rest.

  Sam nodded, her hand lingering on the door frame before she left the room. Something about the look on his face had caused a funny feeling in her heart. She twisted her lips ruefully. Yeah, he was set in his ways. Maybe Florence was right. Maybe words weren’t always needed.

  Chapter 36

  Winter in northern Canada sucked.

  Damien hunched his shoulders against the bitter wind and shoved his hands in his pockets. After leaving Chicago, he’d kicked his way around the country, made his way north and eventually stopped in to see his old friend, Ryne.

  Ryne lived in a two-by-twice town called Stump River that was smack dab in the middle of nowhere. After spending the last hour hiking around the area in almost blizzard-like conditions, Damien was ready to swear an affidavit to the fact that Stump River was only the vacation destination of choice if you happened to be a polar bear.

  He made his way down the street, bits of icy snow stinging his face, and pushed open the door to the Broken Antler, a local bar. The establishment wouldn’t officially open for another hour, but he’d taken a room there so no one would complain that he was on the premises ahead of time. While there was plenty of room in Ryne’s pack house, he’d opted against staying there. With a baby in the house and several Lycans in residence, it had felt too confining. Thankfully, the Broken Antler had a small room for rent; nothing special, but it was better than some of the caves he’d slept in during his days as a rogue.

  A swirl of snowflakes accompanied him as he stepped inside, and he quickly pushed the door shut to block out the cold air that swept into the room. “Damn, it’s cold today.”

  Armand, the owner, was arranging glasses on the shelves and barely glanced up when he walked in, a grunt his only acknowledgement. The man was a werebear and no doubt his inner beast was out of sorts, wishing it were hibernating. At least that was the reason Damien had attributed to the man’s taciturn manner. Mel, Ryne’s mate, insisted it was a broken heart that made Armand so bearish. Whatever the case, Damien didn’t really care. It suited his own frame of mind. Since leaving Chicago, he’d been out of sorts himself.

  Across the room, a young girl was sweeping the floor. She was a member of Ryne’s pack and, if Damien recalled correctly, her name was Tessa. She was a quiet thing who worked at the bar a few hours each week. Mel had insisted the girl take the job to help her ‘get out of her shell’. Damien wasn’t sure how effective the strategy was; in the time he’d been there, the girl had barely spoken to him.

  Near the front, members of a local band were doing a sound check on their instruments. Thankfully, the discordant sounds coming from the makeshift stage wasn’t an indication of their talent. Apparently, their folk rock music had gathered a good following and the Broken Antler was supposedly busier than ever on the nights they played.

  Daniel, another member of Ryne’s pack, was the drummer for the group, but at the moment he was spending more time watching Tessa than worrying about his drum kit. A bad case of puppy love afflicted him, or so Ryne had said, though Daniel was hardly a pup. Damien thought to tell the young man that love only led to heartache but doubted he’d listen. It was one of those lessons you had to learn for yourself.

  The band members nodded as he passed by; Daniel finally joined in the practice, after a firm elbowing from one of the members, and the noise began to transform into actual music. Armand actually showed signs of smiling and Tessa started to sway back and forth as she swept. In years past, Damien might have felt inclined to linger but now he only wanted to be alone.

  A steady drum beat accompanied his steps as he made his way up the stairs to his room. It was small and solitary and enough removed from the bar that he wasn’t overwhelmed by the noise.

  As soon as he entered, he pulled off his shirt; the heat from the kitchen below kept the space overly warm for a werewolf. A draft caused the curtains to sway, giving glimpses of the frosty world outside and he flopped down on the bed, letting the coolness bath over him.

  He tried to rest. Surely, after the vigorous run he’d been on, his body would cooperate and let him drift into oblivion. After all, it had been months since he’d had a decent night’s sleep. A few hours of rest wasn’t too much to ask for, was it?

  Apparently it was.

  Instead of sleeping, he found himself staring at the faded wallpaper and the truly bad piece of artwork that hung on the wall. Armand had painted it, or so he’d been told. Someone really should get the man a new hobby, he thought idly, though in a place like this it was likely one of the few pastimes available.
r />   In his opinion, there was really nothing to do in Stump River in the winter. Oh sure, you could go ice fishing, if you felt like freezing your butt off by sitting outside in minus temperatures. And his wolf enjoyed a romp in the snow, but by yourself it wasn’t fun for long.

  Cross country skiing, building a snowman, hockey, skating… Some of the locals had tried to entice him into the winter activities but he’d refused with varying degrees of politeness. Nothing interested him anymore. So far, beyond visiting with Ryne, the only thing he’d done was drink, play cards and watch TV at the Broken Antler.

  Time to move on, he supposed, but to where?

  “What do you think, Beth? Where should we go?” He tried to start a conversation with her but there was no answer. Since Chicago she’d been growing quieter, appearing to him less often. There was a distance about her, a sadness that worried him.

  “What’s wrong, Beth?” He concentrated hard on bringing her into focus.

  In his mind’s eye he could see her shaking her head.

  “It’s time, Damien.”

  “Time for what?”

  “You know.”

  “No. I don’t.” He pulled away, something warning him he wasn’t going to like where the conversation was going. His attempt at avoidance didn’t work.

  “I stayed because you needed me.”

  “I’ll always need you, Beth.” He imagined himself stroking her cheek, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. She looked up at him with her dove grey eyes. So young, so sweet. So serious.

  “It’s not the same. You know the truth now.”

  “I love you. That’s the only truth.”

  “I love you, too, but there’s more. I need to move on. You need to move on.”

  “No!”

  “Damien…”

  “Damn you, Damien!”

  He jerked in surprise, realizing he must have drifted off. Beth didn’t swear, so who…?

  “Damien Masterson, open the effing door before I kick it down.”

  Sam? He stumbled out of bed still half asleep and jerked the door open.