The Road to Redemption (38 page)

“When he was
about your age, we argued. He left and went west. Met your mother,
had you.” He gave a sad smile. “He came back at my insistence. It’s
my fault.”

“I don’t
follow you.”

“If your
father had stayed away, Gary wouldn’t have known you weren’t pure
blooded. He wouldn’t have tried to kill my heirs because they were
no longer suitable.”

“Gary? Your
Beta? He killed my father?” Sam sank down onto the edge of the bed,
her legs feeling wobbly.

“He planned to
kill you, too, but, I’ve been told, at the last minute you let go
of your father’s hand. That’s all that saved you from being pushed
onto the tracks with him.”

“I…see.” Sam
didn’t know what to say, her brain was trying to process what she’d
learned. It had all happened so long ago that it didn’t actually
seem real, but to know that someone actually murdered your parent…
“I can recall bits and pieces of that day. I let go of his hand for
some reason. He turned and called my name and then…” She shivered,
the screams, the sight of her father being struck barely dimmed by
the passage of the years.

“I didn’t find
out Gary’s part until several years later. It was when I decided to
train you to take over that it came to light.”

“He wasn’t
happy with your choice.”

“He wanted the
job. You were a female and…not purebred.”

“My eyes.” She
twisted her mouth in disgust. While some might marvel at the
colour, she’d always hated them, knowing they were a visible
reminder that she was different from the others in the pack.

“There’s no
denying it.” He gave a quick nod. “You were a shock to all of us
when we first saw you, I won’t lie.”

Sam gave a one
shouldered shrug. It was old news.

He cleared his
throat. “For years I’d embraced the belief that keeping the Lycan
bloodline clean was of utmost importance. When I was presented with
the problem in my own family, I didn’t react well at first. I
didn’t welcome you or your mother with open arms.”

As a child
she’d always known on some level she was a source of disappointment
to him. Because she was female. Because she didn’t train hard
enough. Because of her eyes. “All my life I’ve worked hard to
please you, to be what you wanted me to be.”

“And you’ve
done well.”

“As well as a
female, non-purebred can do.” She qualified.

“As well as
anyone could have done.” A muscle twitched in his jaw.
“I’m…er…proud of you, Sam.” Their eyes met briefly and then both
looked away.

“Uh…thanks.”
It seemed awkward to hear him say that and she didn’t know quite
how to respond. She coughed to fill the silence that fell between
them. “So that’s what you didn’t want me to know?”

“I killed Gary
when I found out what he’d done.” He lifted his chin and faced her
straight on, no cowering in shame for him. “And I take my share of
the blame as well. I was the one that brought Gary into the pack. I
knew his leanings, that he valued the purity of our race. I never
suspected he was that extreme, but as Alpha it was my
responsibility to control the members of the pack, and to
discipline them as needed.”

She wasn’t
totally shocked by his admission, having always sensed the
ruthlessness within him. Her grandfather had followed many of the
old ways. “Do I have to worry about a cold-case file at the local
precinct? Will the cops be knocking on the door one day?”

“No. They
wrote Gary’s death off as a wild dog attack.”

She raised her
brows but said nothing, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It
did.

“Years ago, I
was young and idealistic.” He steepled his fingers and stared at
them. “I thought I knew what was wrong with the Lycan way of life,
that if we returned to the old ways and closed out the rest of the
world, we could return to the days of former glory.”

“Former glory?
What the hell does that mean?”

He shook his
head, a sad smile on his face. “I don’t even recall. When you’re
young, you have dreams.” He sighed and looked up at her. “I joined
The Cause.”

“The
Cause?”

“Some call
them the Purists.”

“Shit.” She
jumped to her feet. So that’s what Damien had meant when he left.
It wasn’t a random slur. “Shit.” She repeated the phrase as she ran
her hands through her hair while looking blindly about the room.
He’d kept mentioning the purity of Lycan blood yet for some reason
she hadn’t made the connection. The way he’d always been so
selective about who joined the pack… The evidence had been right in
front of her and yet… Stupid, stupid, stupid. Was this how the
family of a serial killer felt when they finally learned what he
did on the weekends? If the news got out they had a Purist
background, who knew how much trouble it could spell for them?

“I broke off
my formal association with them when I became an Alpha, though I
never completely severed my ties, or my belief in some of their
ideology. At the time, it didn’t seem to matter. It was only when I
came to accept you as my heir that the break became official.”

“That was good
of you.” She shot a bitter look at her grandfather. “Might have
been awkward otherwise, given that you were harbouring a
mixed-blooded Lycan like me.”

He narrowed
his eyes. “Don’t judge me too harshly, Sam. It was a different age,
a different way of living. I supported some of their ideals, but
not all. The important thing is that I saw the error of my
ways.”

“And?” There
was more; somehow she knew it.

He shifted in
his seat. “Salazar…Dante Esparza…had some connection to the group.
He started to blackmail me, threatening harm to you if I didn’t pay
him.”

“Me?”

“The Cause…the
Purists…don’t look kindly on those who leave the group. They would
have punished me by harming you. Salazar purged the records…for a
price.

“And you’ve
been paying him ever since? How? There’s no spare money.”

“The money for
the fertility research. Most of it went to him.”

The shoe
finally dropped. The lack of money, her grandfather’s
incomprehensible bookkeeping system. He’d been covering the fact
that he’d siphoned off money to pay Dante. “You’ve been lying to
the pack all these years?”

“For you. To
keep you safe.”

She looked at
him, stunned.

“And it didn’t
all go to blackmail. Research has been done. Unfortunately, there’s
no cure except widening the gene pool.”

Sam was
silent, thinking of all the years of scrimping and saving, of doing
without. Of the despair in the pack members’ eyes when year after
year there were no pups born.

“I can’t
believe this.”

“I did what I
thought was right at the time.” He lifted his chin, remnants of the
Alpha he once was still showing. “The Harper line had to continue
through you.”

She paced the
room, hardly registering what he was saying. “Sinclair will have a
field day with the news that we’re Purists.”

“Were. Not any
longer. Those that wouldn’t change their views left after Gary’s
death.”

“So everyone
in the pack knew except me?”

“Hiram,
Florence…the older ones. Andrea and Keith, Laurie and Jonah, those
nearer your age won’t recall. We vowed not to mention it again. The
stain of guilt will die with my generation. Our sins shouldn’t be
visited on you.”

She paused by
the window, not wanting to look at her grandfather. All these
years, he’d been tough on her, hard to please, miserly with his
praise, yet she’d always looked up to him. Had placed him on some
sort of pedestal. Now, she didn’t know what to think.

Rain spattered
the window pane, blurring her vision of the yard below, but she
could still make out where her Harley was parked. It was alone, the
space where Damien’s ride had been was empty, the tarp they’d
shared blowing forlornly in the wind.

“Sam?” Her
grandfather’s voice sounded hesitant.

She cleared
her throat. “Today sucks big time, doesn’t it?”

Damien sat at a table near the back of Club
Mystique. With the challenge happening in a few hours he was
confident Sam wouldn’t be stopping by the place. She’d be
strategizing, prepping for the fight, all the things any sane
person would do. He, however, was sorely in need of a drink—the
good stuff, not the mouthwash the humans drank—and this club was
about the only place he could get it.

Already on his
third drink, there was no sign of a numbing buzz invading his brain
yet. Maybe he was too worked up for alcohol to even take effect.
Downing the contents of his glass, he signalled for another.

His emotions
churned with a violence that matched the storm that still raged
outside. It had rained all last night and all day; the remnants of
some tropical storm venting its fury on them.

He understood
fury, just couldn’t decide who he hated more. Himself or Sam
Harper. She’d lured him in, played him for a fool, caused him to
betray his blood bond with Beth. And he’d fallen for it hook, line
and sinker. Why hadn’t he picked up on the clues? The fertility
problems, the fact the old man was selective about who joined the
pack, the way she’d spoken of contaminated blood… Fucking Purists,
the whole lot of them.

“Here’s
your…oops!”

Ice water
suddenly descended on him and he jerked back in surprise only to
have the legs of his chair tip out from under him. He landed on the
floor in an ungainly heap.

“What the
bloody hell!” He shoved his wet hair from his eyes and glared up at
the waitress. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she’d kicked his
chair out from under him. From a few tables over he could hear the
barely suppressed sound of someone chuckling. If he didn’t already
have a fight scheduled, he’d go over there and—

“I’m so sorry,
sir. Let me help you up.” The waitress righted his chair as he
clambered to his feet, her neon orange hair appearing to glow in
the overhead lights.

Ignoring her
outstretched hand, he warily took his seat, not taking his eyes off
her. She had another pitcher of ice water balanced on her tray.
Wasn’t she the barmaid he’d seen Sam talking to? The hair was
different but… “Are you a friend of Sam’s?”

“Sam? Er….”
Her hesitation gave her away.

He scowled.
“Any problems Sam and I have are between us.”

The girl
glowered at him. “Sam and I go way back. We stick together. You
disrespected her—”

“
I
disrespected her?” He wondered what the girl was talking about.

“So you admit
it!” She almost pounced on his words.

“No, I—”

“Yes you did!
You talked her into having sex with you and then walked away once
you got off!”

“What? How
do—”

“As if that’s
any way to treat a woman when it’s her first time. You should
have—”

“Wait a
minute. Hold on.” Damien held up his hand and shook his head, not
believing what he’d just heard. “Did you say her
first
time?”

“Well, yeah.”
She let off her verbal attack and cocked her head to the side,
staring at him. “You didn’t know?”

“No!” He
scowled, stunned at the news.

“Well… ” She
paused and cracked her gum. “You’re still an asshole. First time,
tenth time, you don’t walk away the minute you’re done.” She took a
cloth she had draped over her arm and threw it at him. “Here. Dry
yourself, dickhead.”

He caught the
cloth just before it smacked him in the face. After slamming his
drink down in front of him, she stalked away. Orange hair, purple
mini dress, neon green stilettos with little lights in the soles
that flashed with every step she took. Hard to imagine Sam was
friends with someone like that.

Sam.

He’d been her
first? Damien still couldn’t believe it. Shouldn’t he have noticed?
If not during, then at least afterwards? Of course, he’d been
kicking himself too hard after the fact to really notice
anything.

He really felt
like a piece of shit now. No one deserved to be treated that way.
Not even if she was a Purist.

Noticing he
still held the towel the server had thrown at him he wiped off his
face and set it aside. His clothes were wet too, not that he could
do anything about that. He plucked at his t-shirt, making a face as
the cold material immediately returned to cling to his skin.
Evil-minded witch…

Witch? Yeah,
the server likely was one, definitely not a shifter or he’d have
noticed the scent.

He leaned back
in his chair and rubbed his chin. So what was Sam doing befriending
a witch? Purists didn’t befriend humans or Others. He took a sip of
his drink and frowned. Sam was friends with a witch. She had violet
eyes. She’d admitted to him that she had tainted blood. That didn’t
gel with the pack being Purist.

Yet, the old
man’s notes had said… He rubbed his face trying to recall the exact
wording.

Elise stared
out her bedroom window, arms wrapped tightly around herself for
comfort. Kane still wasn’t home. They hadn’t spoken since their
fight the previous day. He hadn’t come home to eat or sleep and
she’d spent a restless night constantly waking to check if he’d
returned. The other side of the bed had been empty and cold, and
the night had seemed to go on forever.

Leah’s tooth
had finally come in during the day. With the pain gone, the baby
had slept soundly, not providing any distraction from the slow
ticking of the bedside clock. She’d arisen several times to check
on the children. Looking down at Jacob, she smiled at how he
protectively clutched his teddy bear in his chubby arms, then moved
to the crib to brush the soft brown curls from Leah’s face.

So sweet and
innocent. It would be easy to spend hours staring at the marvellous
little beings she and Kane had created. Indeed, hadn’t they done
that after Jacob’s birth? She recalled standing in the doorway, her
back pressed against Kane’s chest, his arms wrapped around her as
they watched their sleeping son. They’d promised to always be there
for him, to put his needs first, to make sure he always knew he was
loved and cared for.