Page 20 of Betrayed Bullied Mate

Byron nods and leans forward, hitting a button on his computer and pulling up an image. Bigby inhales sharply, but the rest of us stare at it dumbly. I turn to Bigby, raising an eyebrow at him in question.

Not good, Man, he telegraphs. That is some nasty shit.

“What you’re looking at is a highly complex but unrefined version of a serum it seems Varun has been working on for some time. From what we’ve gathered, the drugs are just a way to fund what he’s really focusing on, which is this serum. Based on the toxic compounds in silver, with a few more lethal twists, this serum is incredibly dangerous for shifters.”

I stare at the screen, my heart starting to pound. After a second, I realize my heart has sped up to match the pace of Linnea’s, which is still elevated. As much as I don’t want to, I’ll have to check on her after the meeting.

I refocus on the image in front of me, staring at the twisting compound. Chemical warfare? On other shifters?

We’ve had enough problems with humans for centuries to be hurting each other. And here Varun is, exploiting his shifters and developing some concoction that would make shifters vulnerable. What could the purpose of it possibly be?

“In the project files and experiment logs for this serum, we can see the chemists are testing the compound’s ability to—well, to remove the ability to shift from a being.”

Ado stands abruptly, knocking his chair to the ground. When I glance at him, his face is that icy mask of fury that tells me he’s thinking of marching right down to the bar now and taking Varun out with his own two hands. Ado might be ruthless, but he can’t take on Varun and his entire pack by himself.

Sit down, I project, to only Ado. Trust me, Man, you’ll get your chance. I promise.

Slowly and exactingly, Ado rights his chair and sits back down, with his posture as perfect as ever. I turn back to the screen to see Byron has clicked on to new pictures, showing several shifters in what looks like unbearable agony.

“Varun’s serum is still in the beginning stages of its conception,” the commander continues, “so instead of simply removing a shifter’s ability to change and leaving them otherwise unharmed—”

The notion of being “unharmed” is ridiculous. Taking a shifter’s ability to change into their other form is like taking oxygen away from a human and claiming they’ll be unharmed.

“—That’s certainly not what the effects look like now. Shifters have experienced third-degree blistering, internal bleeding, and blindness. Every subject tested with the serum—and we believe many of the test subjects are still being held in Varun’s testing compound—has lost their sanity completely.”

The room is silent as we absorb this information. Despite myself, I’m once again thinking of Linnea and what it would be like for her to see the people in her pack go through this kind of agony. Out of everything she described to me that she saw at the bar, I’m glad she didn’t catch wind of this.

Eva has been sitting back in her chair, arms and legs crossed for the duration of the meeting, but now she leans forward, putting her hands on her knees as she stares at the pictures on the screen.

“And where is this compound?” Eva asks.

“We are unsure,” the commander responds, shifting slightly in his seat. “Our data analysts are still working through some of the information you sent, most of which was encrypted.”

“We’ll put Byron on that, too,” I say, nodding to him. He taps his fingers on his laptop and nods back at me, already looking eager to get to the task. “We’re not doing anything over here as it is. I think we should start preparing to take on Varun and his pack.”

“That’s not wise,” the commander says, shaking his head and running one hand over his gray stubble. “Varun’s pack is much larger than we thought. And with this serum, you’ll need better gear and backup. The team should wait where you are until the backup arrives. And, speaking of that—Byron, please send HQ your coordinates so we can send the materials and the additional team members.”

Byron turns to me, raising his eyebrows in question. From the commander’s expression on the screen, I can tell he doesn’t like that Byron is looking for my okay, but it doesn’t matter. This team works because there’s a clear leader, and that leader is me.

I don’t want anyone to know about this place, my family’s land, but if it’s vital for the mission, I’ll do it. I give Byron a quick, almost imperceptible nod, and he turns, typing something quickly into his laptop.

The commander tries to cover the annoyance on his face but doesn’t quite manage to, and I hear Percy snicker quietly behind me.

“Which team are you sending for backup?” I ask, knowing we’ll need to prep for their arrival. I know a few of the other shifter teams and am friendly with a few of the leaders. Some of the other shifter teams, however, are more aggressive and dominant, more focused on stoking their egos than accomplishing the mission. If it’s one of those teams coming, we’ll need to debrief on how we plan to work with them.

“That’s yet to be decided,” the commander says. It’s surprising, and I wonder if the other teams are all occupied and if that’s why they haven’t chosen one to send yet.

“What’s the ETA on the backup?” I ask, itching to move forward with the mission. If I’m stuck here around Linnea for much longer, I’m not sure what I’ll do.

“I’ll be in touch to let you know.”

Frustration rises in my throat, and I purse my lips. I just want to get out of here, move on, and get to the next mission. Already, the fatigue isn’t enough to sate the constant yearning for Linnea. Rather than across the clearing in her own cabin, it feels like she’s much closer. My body wants to go to her. I feel her heartbeat—at least it’s slowed now.

My situation with Linnea is a huge problem, of course, especially since we’re mated and blood-bonded, but all I want to do is ignore it. I need something to take my mind off the constant arousal, off the fact that she’s right there and sitting around with the team. Doing nothing isn’t going to help me.

The commander signs off, and we’re left sitting in the cabin. Byron has already pulled his computer toward him and is typing furiously, completely blocking the rest of us out. I turn to find four expectant pairs of eyes on me.

I stand and rub a hand over my forehead.

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