The Protector

XXI

As I'm falling through the practically deserted house, I notice Kelis and Samantha escorting a group of children down to the bunker for safety. Samantha is the pack's core babysitter for these sorts of situations since she has severe Asthma and Spondylosis which has come with her age and dangerous conflict in her past. She's no longer able to fight without hurting herself. However, she is also amazing with kids.

Kelis typically helps out since she struggles in combat for her own reasons. She has a habit of getting involved anyway because she feels pathetic being hidden away. Yet, the increase of newborns in the last couple of months has shifted her priorities to helping Sammie.

Passing by the stairs in a hurry, little James waves down at me from the top with a sad little pout. The poor tot is three and terrified of stairs after falling down them last year. The two women are far too busy herding the group of thirty off to notice the straggler. Not hesitating with the split second decision, I charge up the flights three steps at a time. "Come on, Sweetheart." I haul him up onto my hip, helping him shuffle onto my shoulders. He giggles away in my ear at the quick bouncing movements.

Descending at a remarkable pace, he claps happily. I'm glad the little ones aren't aware of the danger their parents are in, it isn't something they should be worried about when they are only babies. Despite not really having the time to waste when the pack could be in a bad situation, I can't leave a child on his own with the sounds that may occur or the possibility of a threat making it inside to find him. Therefore, I speed down to the bunker.

Upon arriving at the door that's already locked, I pant lightly. You can't hear anyone knocking due to the thickness of this particular wall, and I don't know the code to get in. James is fiddling with my pendant, tugging it around my neck while I mumble to myself about numbers.

Staring down at the buttons on the lock, the ones that have been worn down begin standing out. Rearranging them in my head, the year Mum was born clicks. Typing it in quickly, it buzzes open. Hoisting it ajar enough to let both of us in is difficult as I don't want the boy to fall.

The little ones all pause their playing to stare up at me with wide eyes. Samantha spins, one guard in a snap until she sees who it is and the child muttering away about the pretty colour of the necklace. "James! There you are!" She runs over, taking the small boy off of me. He whines over having to release the jewel. "Thank the Gods you found him. Thank you, Lucy."

"Not a problem. I'll drop by later to check in." I remove the necklace, handing it to the boy on the verge of tears. "Take care of this for me, Sweetie." I ruffle his hair, his dopey grin returning.

Winking, I yank the door shut behind me until it dings closed. Not having anymore time to waste, I dash up the stairs and out the door to the back porch. It is likely we've acted in time for the Rogue's arrival since there are currently no signs of fighting anywhere. Our scouts are normally about a mile into the woodlands surrounding our area while always being quick to notice anyone heading our way.

Stepping onto the wooden panelling out back, I'm bombarded with the nerves and fear from throughout the pack. Something isn't adding up. No one was particularly nervous in the fight that almost killed Luke, and we were slightly outnumbered. However, I don't have a bad feeling about this like I have in the past.

Most members are clustering around Luke as he shouts out commands, demanding the strategy he dictates is best. From the sight of things, it's the one we rehearsed early last week.

Apparently no one here is overly fond of Rogue's, as proven by their judgmental disgusting reactions to the situation. The levels of rage alongside their fear is concerning. I know this is our territory but they shouldn't be categorising people they don't even know. They seem to believe that these outcast wolves are all vicious beasts that have their hearts set on killing us.