We wasted another 10 minutes on a shower. It would be rude to meet with these people without that since it's available. It ain't like school, where I'd rather reek of sex than get athlete's foot by daring the locker rooms.

As I said earlier, Harriet Longfish is a small werewolf. Her features are sharp, rather foxlike. For all that she was a traditional Omega in size, her attitude could outdo an Alpha.

She glared at both of us, "We have plenty of work to do and it is not helped by any young mate's inefficiency. Now, explain to these pups how you've been labeling everything."

The teens came with scanners and laptops—all newer models than the dinosaur I've been running. "Where did the hardware come from?"

"Don't mind it, dear. It came with me."

So I nodded and explained the most boring part of my day to a bunch of kids.

With that, I transferred over the initial scan of all the papers to learn how to properly sort the saved files from Ms. Longfish. It wasn't just me—although Nate wouldn't be a part of the sorting process, he still needed to know how it was done.

It was straightforward: inventories, incident reports, repairs and maintenance, training reports, finances, family registry, pack dependents, general history, ceremonies, business reports, religious documents, food stores, weapons stores, weapons research, medical, fortification studies; the list is honestly endless, and why I'm sure a lot of people trying to talk about what their days consist of just throw their hands up in exasperation and call it all "Alpha Duties". So, 3 methods of searching for the files: the meager way I started to make finding the hard copy easier, the date, and the type of document all had to show up in the name of these files.

"So now what?"

"Now, you can start working through them to see if anything is currently relevant, which I would assume most of the stacks on chairs were recent since that would be the last place you wanted to place things, right? So, what's important, right now?"

Nathan started muttering, "Our finances, our safety, our supplies, who is being neglected..."

That's what my mornings shifted into: an attempt to search out issues in the documents that could blindside us.

And boy, did I find them. Siblings. A shit-ton of siblings to various families from the damn previous generation being promiscuous without any precautions, mostly with humans. Damn peckerheads. The worst part was how many of them lived in poverty, abandoned in Reno's care system. These were pack-documented children, some with fathers to care for them that could turn out to be werewolves left to shift on their own. Fuckers were lucky that the whole of werekind wasn't exposed. The human systems are overloaded, and a need to protect themselves could force an early shift, out there.

Pearson and Longfish advised us to turn those children over to the Omega council for the time being. I agreed—Nathaniel was far more reluctant. He had sisters he'd never met, and was thinking about his own baby when looking at their fate.

I wound up pulling him aside for that conversation. I mean, we fight all the time, but it was over involuntary shit or things that didn't matter. This mattered a great deal to both of us. But as fucked up as both our childhoods were, these were children with unknown histories. We could be practically normal, in comparison.

Before I could say a thing, Nathaniel rounded on me, "I want my sisters home. I can't protect them from men like me if they are halfway across this nation or further."

I had to smile. I knew that one day the guilt of what he did to me—and others—was going to eat at him...but he forgets in moments like this that I was willing. Yeah, in the least accepting manner possible, but I chose how our relationship unfolded. Look, knowing what I know now? Other than our baby, I'd have made him wait until his birthday, sidestepped the slight bit of hearing loss I had, and still be living with my idiot caretakers...scratch that, hell no!

I should have moved into my bus earlier and seduced his sorry ass into spending the night with me, instead. Anything but place me under our parent's care.

He relaxed at that thought—total distraction. But it's better to think through things after you've calmed down, as you make less dumb decisions.

"How well did I take to being around you all the time?"

"You still don't take all that well to it." He chuckled at the thought. "I mean, if you didn't like my dick so much, you'd be sleeping in that stupid bus, right now."

Nathaniel had some of the boys refurbish the thing. They totally gutted the wiring to make it state-legal (not like a lot of the inside was still intact after his dad's tantrum), and he's right that I hate the pack house. I got picked on for that wiring job, and told it was one step away from igniting the bus like a missile. I got their missile alright.

And I know he's joking. I say stupid shit like that all day long, too.

All frustrations aside, I like who he is as a person, especially as he settles into his responsibilities. Most of the early disgust I had with them all stemmed from not focusing, and he knows more of what he wants for the pack and himself with each day. What he is now is what I wanted the whole time. If only I had a little freaking patience, right? Hell, if he had patience...

"I've not put a ring on it...so...don't get carried away, love." My nose crinkled in amusement. "But think about how hard I pushed you away. What if your sisters have been through enough to where they fight you more than I did? Or if it was worse, or what if they didn't come out of things as strong as I have? Neither one of us has the skills to evaluate them."

"Surely there's a therapist in town..."

"That you trust?" I scoffed. "They are as trapped as we are."

"I want them here, where I can protect them. Everything else can go screw itself."

There it was. The big problem with any male, human or were. They want what belongs to them within their reach. That is it, at its best. Where the behavior starts to descend into madness is shifts to control or use. We like to pretend that this is the wolf's problem, but it's not—not alone, at least. Hell, it's not even just a male problem. You think I like people messing up my order?

"These are strangers that know less than I do. Do you want to keep them like possessions, or do you want them to thrive?"

He didn't answer, just distracted me—that is, himself—with the usual bout of lovemaking. But he spent time thinking about it instead of dismissing me outright because the paperwork for their care was drawn up before we left for school.

~~~

There are many things I wish I could forget. This is one of them. Fair warning.

Well, that paperwork dragged him off to Reno halfway through 2nd period. Even worse, since these were humans who had pack children, they were going to be at the mercy of a US judge. That means that it would be better if Nathaniel's father was at court. He's not been properly interrogated, yet, to let loose. So, my mate was likely to be out much of the rest of the week, leaning on Gamma Pearson the whole time. He'd been a P.I. most of his "human" career, so he was invaluable for this part of the work.

I wasn't looking forward to nights alone in bed.

The bell rang, and I was trudging along to my 3rd period. It's the furthest apart of my classes. I'm always pressed to get to it in time with Nathaniel right beside me, but without his long legs, I find myself too slow. The crowds thinned out.

Then, I'm alone.

Until I'm shoved against a locker.

I half expected it to be some jealous ho trying to get me to leave Nathan—like I fear them at all. Part of why I expected it is that I've not been pushed so hard that I hurt. "What the hell do..."

I paused as I turned to face a male, not some girl who was getting too big for her britches. Still a jealous ho. Hands pressed into the lockers on either side of my shoulders. This position was familiar, hot, and reminded me of all the bad boy in Nathaniel, but fuck if I know who he is.

"You." He caught what I was about to say.

Eww. You're greasy, ick. "Not available, dude. Pretty well claimed, here."

No, I didn't start pushing on him immediately. He's not hurting me, yet. I've got a kid to protect—besides, I've never been one to throw the first punch. Verbally, when I'm sure I won't be hit? Hell yeah, I start it, pretty much every day. That and the hallway won't stay deserted forever—and he chose a bad place to drag me off from. I felt a bit more secure than I should have. Overconfidence leads to failures and scars.

"He keeps talking about how responsive you are. You've let all the others have a try, haven't you? You're their slut."

This fucker. So not original. I had been using that word for everyone and their mother since I was little—it wasn't going to intimidate me. Slut, slut, slut, slut, slut! Fuckin' peckerhead!

The problem is I need him distracted if I want to be able to get him good. He's keeping that part of himself off to the side a little. Asshole is experienced in a way my man never was. Besides, the last time I did this, Reuben had to be verbally maneuvered to get the hell off me. This guy? No fucking clue how to get rid of him, that way...but I'll try. "No, and Nathaniel is going to be pissed when he finds out about this."

"Then don't tell him, Rachael Agnes." He leaned in to whisper the next part in my ear. "Your dad said anyone could have you, and if you're good, I'll let my father know."

Awwshit. Now I know who this peckerhead is. This is where the panic started, for me.

Just because this town is run by werewolves does not mean that humans have abdicated all power. With the former Alpha running the pack into the ground, there was a major vacuum in that structure, and there are worse things than werewolves out there. There's an elected mayor, the council, and our sheriff.

This is Ol' Joe's boy, Tyler. Joe happens to be the sheriff and is my uncle's drinking buddy. Never did like how that old creep looked at me but as he never touched me, I didn't have any reason to talk about how weird he was.

Remember, a supposed whore talking about how a man wants her, at all, gains accusations of me boosting my ego. It does not signal that I need protection. It's that "she asked for it" attitude. Found that out when I was too young to even want boys looking at me. I never bothered with telling my supposed parents jack shit, after that.

"You're not even in school anymore! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Watching you, as ordered."

Well, something clicked into place, with that point. "He thinks I'm his daughter, you sick freak." Of course, that would make Ol' Joe an even sicker one. They knew who my real mom was, hanging out with my uncle this whole time.

That got a dark laugh out of this idiot. "You're so not my sister. You're your mother's replacement."

What the hell did they have to do with my mother?!

That's when he put his hand over my mouth. I should have yelled, but then he'd likely hit my midsection before running away. I bit down on his hand—which he shoved into the bite, then used that to force my head to the side, so he could explore my neck with his godawful mouth. Felt like I had a slug crawling on me.

I was responsive, alright. My stomach was churning, and I was fighting against vomiting. I felt dizzy as hell. This fucker hasn't moved close enough yet either. He's too experienced—I'm not his first victim.

He nipped at the edge of my mark. I couldn't hold it back anymore—that was painful. Up came the remnants of breakfast, under pressure, which spilled over his hand, but also couldn't get out my mouth fast enough, which only left my sinuses as a pressure valve.

It was utterly disgusting. The only part about it that I liked was he noticed it and pulled back. "What the hell, Rach..."

That's what it took for him to quit guarding his nuts from me so I rammed him, and down he toppled, vomit and all. Thank God this idiot wasn't a were.

My head was spinning. I needed to get away before he got back up, so I staggered off, bracing myself up against the lockers so I didn't fall over.

That's how Barlen found me, only a moment later, with his now banana-yellow hair, "Amancia asked me to check on..."

He took in the whole scene and pulled me against his shoulder, right after he kicked Tyler in the ribs hard enough to stop his attempt at escape. "I'm contacting Stephen."

Good to know that help would eventually come, but a lot can happen in a minute. Fuck, a lot did happen.

"Get me out of here." I gave up on trying to stay upright and sagged against his wiry frame, making full use of his strength as I shook so hard my teeth chattered.

Forget school. I'm so tired of the bullshit.

~~~
It was a rough rest of the day, for me. Stephen and I were sent home—my Alpha mate refused to have anyone but the next best of them to guard me. Not after that attack came from out of nowhere. The dude shouldn't have even been on campus.

That left Amancia and Barlen to get Tyler out of the school as the only ones who knew what was going on, directly—with cameras watching. They called in Stephen's father. He at least worked with security footage before. I'm sure Rick helped too, but I wasn't there.

This was the son of someone with the power to expose everyone, who sent him out to look for me. Tyler is not a guy you can freely kill—it has to be covered up and ignored by the media. And even worse, how do you bring him to justice in a human court with his father being part of the issue? Especially since nothing happened.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not excusing what he did. But other than a sore jaw, I had no pain or marks on me, and no evidence is difficult to get anything other than maybe a restraining order over. Damn things were a paperwork trail, not a guarantee. I can't say the cameras were at a good angle to catch what happened, either.

Nathaniel is laid back—he's not often angry when you expect him to be. He has always been one to pull back on his anger when enraged because he didn't want me to see him at his worst. That's an Alpha thing, trying to keep worries off their mate's shoulders, but it's also specific to me. I mean, you'd have to be particularly dense to not see that I was scared of what he could do. I still don't think I want to see what he is capable of.

But we both grew up on stories of ruthless Alphas, and my love is getting more serious by the day. He's not going to allow this guy to live. I dread the conversation.

Which is strange. I mean, I have been in fights with him where he's done minor damage to things like paneling or a steering wheel, but I've never seen him go off like Maverick—or like he did on his father. It's on a level of not knowing his strength, not venting through strength.

I had to ask myself if this was a part of my lack of trust. Do I trust him enough to get into an argument over a rank bastard that dared touch what belonged to him, like I'm an object? Were we far enough along to where he trusted my judgment enough to not feel like I sided with Tyler over my own mate?

Even worse, why worry about what my mate thinks when it distracts from what I've been through—and its implications? I have the right to be the victim, here—I was the victim.

But that one was easy. Scarily easy. I didn't want to have a full opinion until I discussed it with my mate.

Have I really become that dependent? Or am I overwhelmed?

I mean, I had Stephen with me. Mrs. Longfish was somewhere on the property. I didn't trust most of the house's Omegas, as I don't know what makes them tick, but those two I trust.

But I'm sitting here, waiting on this damned Alpha of mine, so I can be anchored.

~~~
In the 1950s, at the same time as Lyudmila Trut began her study of Silver Fox domestication, and before John Gluck began his long fight with the ethics of animal behavior studies, there was a Werewolf study done on aggression, specifically what ascendancy does to shifters. They kidnapped children to control for as many variables as possible. They were treated like animals. No, humans treat animals better. They were treated like the monsters weres fear being.

Ascendancy is a lot like puberty crossed with the fight or flight instinct, and it lasts for a generation: the first natural shift to roughly 40 years of age, sometimes earlier. What this means is that violence is hard to avoid. Hitting walls, crushing a steering wheel in their hands—the amount of self-control that a wolf needs is beyond what humans get away with.

This is why they train so hard in most packs—one misplaced snit and the whole world is exposed to monsters walking amongst us. This isn't escalating violence in human populations where the urge is to hurt or break something, it's finding something for your hands to do while the urge to kill is stealing your sight. Many packs outright ban human mates being taken on by untrained wolves for this reason—and why humans are advised to reject a partner that's not past ascendancy.

If you take on that risk, like I did, understanding cues is a must. Shrinking back from touching them is going to get someone hurt as contact makes it easier to bear. A wolf who still punches holes in walls after you place your hand on them isn't tied enough to you to make it work. That's a dangerous situation to be in.

And no, that behavior doesn't come from actual wolves. Werewolves hold far more in common with a chimpanzee's violence, like the Ngogo warrior apes. Shifters take on the shape of puppies and host the nature of murderous humans.

No wonder the young Alpha that study captured took down the whole program with his bare hands, well, claws—ending everyone and everything that came into contact with that small town for over a decade.

The implication of this is that Nathaniel has struggled to keep this side under control long before I was his choice. He feared his own thoughts and actions before one stupid bet. It only became worse once he shifted, and will go further when his wolf splits off.

I was so busy being scared of what he could do that I sometimes locked myself into inertia, waiting to see how he would handle things when he already proved this aspect of himself enough. Again, precog, my ass.