Page 5 of Betrayed Bullied Mate

I don’t know if Bigby picked up on any of that. Being the smart motherfucker he is, he probably deduced it at some point over the years. My lack of a mate for this long, especially with my status and current position as alpha of our group, is definitely weird, but none of the other team members dared to comment on it.

Our strategy was in place before we left D.C. If Varun is worth anything as alpha, he already knows we’re here, so we plan to use it to our advantage.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” a shifter at the door says, eyeing us warily when we approach. He’s clearly been given instructions to let us in because he steps to the side and watches us as we file through the doorway.

It’s still as run-down as I remember but somehow even sleazier. Girls in practically nothing are dancing on various tabletops while shifters crowd around, jeering at them. I avert my gaze and quickly glance back at the rest of the team.

They all look slightly nauseated at what’s going on here, and I’m momentarily proud of them. It doesn’t seem like these women are dancing here because they want to, so it feels disrespectful to stare.

We’re led through the throngs of people by a girl in high heels carrying a bottle up on a platter. Throughout the bar are women—some of whom must be just out of high school—dancing and serving shifters. I can’t stop myself from wondering if Linnea is here somewhere, being looked at, with hands on her that aren’t mine.

Nasty place, Percy says through our team mind link. Shit, Boss, you grew up here?

I shake my head, blinking and glancing at Bigby, who looks nonplussed. Thankfully, I’ve managed to keep my thoughts to myself this time.

Wasn’t like this when—when I was here. Focus, Heroux. I shoot back, surprised at how easily I almost said wasn’t like this when my dad was alpha. The last thing I want to do is dredge up the past with the team right now.

In the very back of the room, situated in a large, curved booth, is Varun. He’s sitting with his arms up, slung around two girls who look like they wish they were somewhere else. He’s wearing a loose white shirt with the top couple of buttons undone, and his face is too angular, almost like he’s had plastic surgery to achieve the look. His skin is startingly pale, so the veins on his arms pulse out, bright blue and too visible.

I feel Bigby stifle a laugh, and I understand why. With his darting eyes, possessive gaze, and drastic widow’s peak, Varun fits the cartoon villain mold perfectly. But beneath the cheesy exterior, I can sense the power coming from him acutely. It’s the same type of silent control my dad once exuded, but more concentrated and unfamiliar.

“Well, good evening, gentlemen,” Varun says, leaning forward on his elbows and glancing up at us. A single, greasy piece of blond hair swoops down from the rest, curving down to his forehead. “What a surprise to have you in my bar tonight.”

“Varun,” I say, standing at the front of my group and gazing down at the slimy little man who killed my father. I’m working hard to keep the simmering rage from boiling over—I’ve never seen Varun in person before and only found out about what happened from those others still in Rosecreek. Looking at him, I find it incredibly hard to believe that he took down my father.

But the thing about Varun is that he didn’t just take down my father. According to ancient pack traditions, if someone overpowers the alpha and takes his spot, the new alpha also has the right to eliminate the remaining relatives. It’s barbaric and unheard-of in modern packs, but Varun clearly took some inspiration because he made sure to take out my mom as well.

At least, that’s what he told people. Some of the old timers in the pack tried to hint that something else had gone down with my parents, but at the time, I wasn’t interested. I was so overcome with grief and guilt over the fact that I’d left and allowed this to happen in the first place.

Over the years, after leaving, I’ve tried not to think about it. All my dad wanted was for me to live up to his expectations. We didn’t always have a perfect reputation, but I let him down—I let down the whole pack. Joining the agency, running around, and taking out rogue shifters felt like the best way to do some good while hiding from my past.

“The pleasure is all ours,” I say, keeping my voice level despite the fact that the past is staring me in the face.

“I assume I know why you’re here,” Varun says, unlacing his fingers and reaching for a drink on the table. “But I’d rather hear it from you. What brings you to town?”

Through the first firewall, Byron sends through the mind link. Probably need at least five more minutes.

Percy has wandered off to the side, messing with some of the expensive bottles of alcohol on the shelf above the booth. I fight to keep from smiling—Varun is distracted by this and clearly torn on whether he should tell Percy to back off. The air is tense with the potential for violence, and every person in the area can feel it. The first wrong move could set off a lethal series of events.

“You’ve probably figured out this isn’t a social call, Varun. We got news at the agency that you’ve been making some questionable decisions. Boss wanted us to come down and see if we can work it out without any bloodshed.”

“I see,” Varun says, nodding slightly. The girls to his left and right have gone rigid, glancing between me and him. I wish there was a way to put them at ease, to let them know we would never purposefully cause them harm if a fight did break out. “And what, exactly, are these charges?”

I glance at the other shifters sitting here with Varun, the girls scattered around.

“You want to discuss that here? In front of your people?”

“There are no secrets in this pack, Cadell. We run things differently now.”

Internally, I bristle, but externally, I manage to keep a completely calm façade.

“Fine, Varun. We have charges for drug trafficking, drug synthesizing, human trafficking, murder of human civilians, and several domestic pack violations.”

“I see,” Varun says, running a finger across the top of the table, clearly tracking it through some remaining cocaine. Behind me, Ado stiffens, surely seeing and smelling the stuff now. He came to the agency by way of a drug rehabilitation program. Typical human drugs affect shifters differently because everything is heightened to us. While cocaine might cause a human to drive recklessly or start a fight, cocaine in a shifter has much more drastic consequences.

“I wasn’t aware the agency is sticking its nose in what an alpha chooses to do with his pack,” Varun continues, glancing up. His eyes go slightly behind me, to the left, clearly connecting with Ado. Somehow, perhaps through his heightened perception as alpha, Varun seems to know the coke is getting to him. I shift to the left, crossing my arms and sharpening my gaze.

“It’s clear you aren’t aware of a lot of things,” I say, a clear threat in my voice. “Our goal today is to remedy this situation. You stop breaking the Maan Pact, and we will go on our way. No harm done.”

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