Page 105 of Scapegoat

Dad nodded slowly; his eyes haunted. It was the kind of bullshit that used to be used in packs, back in the bad old days. Despotic alphas would conquer other packs, bring people to heel with what equated to psychic scars. Commands that were seared into the soul of a beta.

Alphas had stopped using them, not so much because of a sense of the common good, but from the famous examples of when it all went pear-shaped. The alpha pack that commanded their betas to protect them. The betas did so, even after the alpha pack had split and the two sides were warring against each other. The alphas on both sides couldn’t direct their betas to attack the other side, only other alphas who weren’t included in the command. And then there was the pack who commanded their betas to protect their omega.

They did, valiantly. No other alphas made it far when they tried to raid the pack and steal the omega away, many laying down their lives to look after her, but the betas took things further than expected. They protected the omega against every threat, including her own alphas. She wasn’t happy about the mating or their treatment of her, and that resulted in a pack uprising. The alphas were each assassinated quickly, quietly, for the omega. She went on to become one of the first omega rulers of a pack.

So now most alphas relied on pack satisfaction to get what they needed, only using a block when absolutely needed. When a parent was found to have sexually abused a child, or where domestic abuse raged, unchecked by conversations with the pack leaders. If the behaviour wouldn’t stop, the alphas could force it to, just as they should’ve done to Abigail.

But something had given our alphas pause.

Because they didn’t think the situation was too bad? Maybe. Abigail kept shit on the down low really well. Because they didn’t think they were strong enough? Maybe that’s what it was. Abigail and the alphas were deadlocked, neither one strong enough to break the other.

I focussed back on the screen.

“You can’t tell us,” I said, “but can you show us?”

A small note of hope rose in his eyes and then he nodded. The problem with blocks was they were so damn imprecise. Fables about plucky wolf shifters working their way around a block were read to us as children. The view on the screen abruptly changed.

Jay clicked his fingers, wanting Atlas’ phone and it was slapped into his hand. He turned on the camera, recording what we saw. A run down cottage, it looked like, and an old one. The stained glass windows, the plastered stone walls, all made it look like it was at least one hundred years old. It looked like they might be at a location that wasn’t too far away, the first attempt colonisers had made to take this land. The area had been gifted to humans unprepared for the wilds of Australia and they’d made their way down here, thinking they’d just clear it and take it over.

But the place belonged to the local First Nations people, and while the settlers were allowed to make homes here, the trouble came when they decided to take everything that the Crown had gifted them, driving off people who had lived in this area undisturbed for many thousands of years. The Aboriginal people fought back and what was left became Ghost Town.

No actual ghosts were ever sighted there, but teenage wolf shifters loved to hang out there to get drunk. They were away from parental supervision and could freak each other out when they were drinking. We’d gone there a few times, Kai in tow, but not like this.

“Show us more, Dad.” It felt weird, wrong to use that title, but I kept my tone gentle, trying to preserve the illusion that we still had a relationship. Tears pricked at my eyes because now we didn’t. He was still my father, he’d been with me through most of the important moments of my life, but now? It was like he was a different person. The camera lurched as he walked through the cottage.

“Ghost Town,” Jay whispered as Dad went outside, swinging the phone around to show us the remains of two other buildings. Not really a town, obviously, but Ghost Cottages didn’t have the same ring to it.

“Now, show us Kai,” I prompted and was met by an uneasy whine. “Show us Kai, Dad.”

The camera hovered, the blurry view of the abandoned cottages making my guts swirl, even as my claws dug into his kitchen bench. He needed to show us she was OK. But just as he was about to move, we heard a car roar up.

Fuck.

Jay said the exact same thing, but I peered at the screen, now giving us a view of the grass.

“Show us Kai, Dad!” I shouted.

If I was a better son, I’d have been worried for him first, and I would, once I got my mate home safe. I didn’t want him to get hurt, but I had to know: Where the hell was Kai? There was only one building that was still standing and it wouldn’t be enough to hold her if she wanted out. They had to have done something to her. They—

“And who are you talking to?” Abigail’s voice seemed even more menacing.

“No one,” he stammered out, backing away. “I can’t.”

“No? So who’s on the line?”

He tried to shove the phone away, if the frantic blur was anything to go by, but then everything came into clear focus.

Abigail looked different now, the wolf obviously fighting for control. Her scarlet lips were pulled back from wolfish fangs, fur starting to ripple across a narrowing face.

“You think you can use some amateurish detective skills to ruin my plan?” she snarled at the phone, then shifted our view to Dad. “Kneel.”

“Abigail…” he pleaded as he obeyed her. “Don’t. I didn’t… I can’t…”

“Shut up.” Her voice was completely scathing, reducing my dad down to nothing.

“Mum?” Anna’s voice was disembodied, faint in the background. “What’re you doing? Greg’s my dad, isn’t he?”

“Someone as worthless as this, who can’t even do one simple thing? Darling, he was never going to be good enough for you,” Abigail said and we watched in horror as a puddle of piss formed under my dad. Was this what Kai had gone through? Was this the horror she’d had to endure? We were about to get a masterclass in abusive behaviour.

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