Page 101 of Broken Bonds
I point at the roof. “Just like I hope we never need to use this building as a storm shelter, I’d rather be prepared. Again—children. Their home was destroyed, and some of them lost their parents. They’re scared. If they come here and we have people keeping them safe, at least that will be one small thing we can do to give them peace of mind. No child deserves to live in fear, and some of you remember how that feels because you were kids when you were brought here by your parents, many of them running from abuse or packs who threatened to kill them and you. Some of you were kids who arrived here alone, scared, with no one in the world to lean on or protect you.”
I note how several of them slowly nod, those I know who joined our pack in exactly that way.
“Who’s teaching them?” a voice speaks up. “The kids? They can’t be in school, but who’s teaching them?” He steps forward and I realize it’s Sam, Todd’s fuck-buddy. He’s a non-shifting heron and a popular teacher at our pack school. “I volunteer to come in and teach them in person,” he says. “I can do it outside of regular school hours.” He looks around. “Jax is right—they’re kids. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I can’t look myself in the mirror if I don’t help. They didn’t ask for this to happen to them, and they didn’t do anything wrong.”
“He’s right.” Helen steps forward, taking her place next to Sam. She’s also a teacher at the pack school, an unmated, non-shifting wolf born in the pack. “I volunteer to teach them, too.”
I nod. “Thank you. We’ll leave those logistics for after they arrive.”
“And I’ll come inside, too,” she says, turning to glare at the crowd. “I’m not afraid of children, regardless of who they are, unlike some people in this room.”
I feel a subtle positive shift in the crowd’s mood, more people, especially men, looking abashed.
“Helen, I’ll get with you and Sam in a few days. We’ll see what we need to do. It might be better to set up a video system so you can teach remotely.”
She turns back to me. “Only if they want that—I’m not afraid of children. Sir,” she adds, apparently realizing she sounds defiant.
But I smile to let her know she’s not in trouble. Definitely not over that. “I really appreciate it.” I focus on the room again. “Once I designate a sentry coordinator?—”
“I’ll do it.” Chaz steps forward again, glaring at everyone who turns to look at him. “I’m mostly retired. I can handle it. I’m not saying I like this situation, but you’re right—I’m not afraid of kids. I don’t have to like vampires to want to help kids. If your father trusts them, then I don’t have a right to question you, much less him, over the safety of this pack. I know he’d never do anything to endanger us, and neither would you.”
I nod. “Thank you. Please get with me after the meeting, and we’ll set up a time to talk tomorrow.”
He nods and returns to his place.
Someone else holds up a hand and I acknowledge them. “I’ll volunteer too,” he says. “For sentry duty. I can hate vampires and want to protect kids at the same time.”
A few more people start to raise their hands and I hold up mine for quiet. “If you want to volunteer for sentry duty, please get with Chaz to save time,” I say.
“Vampires aren’t our enemy,” Todd unexpectedly says, stepping forward.
He honestly doesn’t need a mic; his booming voice fills the room, and everyone shuts up again.
“Look, raise your hand if you personally, or someone you know personally, has ever been harmed by a vampire,” he challenges. “And I don’t mean a rumor you heard, or your great-grandfather’s neighbor’s roommate, either. I mean you or yours.”
Everyone looks around but not a single person raises a hand.
“Exactly what I thought,” he says. “I’ve had business dealings with vampires for several years now, and they’ve never been anything but courteous and respectful and honest with me. They damned sure treat their cattle better than many top-end human operations. We will have their vulnerable loved ones here. Do you honestly think any of the vampires will dare start shit? I mean, seriously?”
A few people shake their heads and thank the Goddess Todd’s here. I don’t interrupt.
“I know what fear feels like as a kid,” he continues. “Many of you were adults when Mom and I arrived, running from our home herd after my father was murdered. We arrived here I was immediately made to feel safe and protected. Cared for. Welcomed as family. Now I’m not saying we need to integrate their kids into our pack school, but nothing’s being asked of you except to volunteer to stand outside with your thumb up your ass making sure no one goes in or out who’s not supposed to. How will that negatively impact most of you during the duration, huh? Because I know damned well the majority of you won’t volunteer, or can’t volunteer, and no shade from me. But for the rest of you who still ‘aren’t sure’ about this?” He uses air quotes. “Ask yourself how this situation will impact your daily lives. And if the answer to that is ‘not one fucking bit,’ then I suggest you get over yourselves.”
He nods to me and steps back, next to Shawn, who fist bumps with him.
I take a deep breath. “Questions?”
There aren’t any at first, but then another unmated omega speaks up. “I heard a rumor there’s a new pup,” he says. “Who is he, and when’s his initiation?”
Shit. Well, I knew it was too good to be true to hope Mal might not come up as a topic of discussion.
“All initiations are on hold until after the refugees leave,” I say.
“My cousin lives in Georgia,” he continues. “She said she heard a rumor from a friend of hers that Sterling’s missing a son, and that the fucker isn’t happy about it.”
Fuuuck.
Now all eyes are on me, including Todd’s.
