Revenge of the Luna Queen

Chapter 14

Alpha Maleco had been on the run from the council for over a dozen years and after so many he was finally starting to run out of places to hide.

It might have been easier to disappear and stay hidden if his pack didn't keep growing.

Of the original 193 Pack Tenebris members, less than one hundred were still alive. Only 97 had survived the nearly fourteen years of being hunted by the council or the continued skirmishes between their minions, since the fall of the Royals. And yet even after everything they had been through his pack's numbers kept increasing. At the last count they were an unprecedented four hundred and eighteen strong. The largest they had ever been in their history.

Looking over the latest figures his Beta had left for him on his makeshift desk, he let out a sigh as his hands ran through his hair. His eyes ran down the list of names. Eighteen. Eighteen more mouths to feed. He sighed again. Just like always though they would just have to find a way.

George Maleco was not a dumb man. Even among the smartest in their world he had always stood out. Stood apart. It had been both a gift and a curse.

He read over the list again. Sighing as he took in the overwhelmingly female names. It was always the same. Close to seventy five percent of his pack was now female. Most young. All scarred in some way.

And he knew just like the last three times a group of refugees had managed to find his camp he wouldn't turn a single one of them away. Even if he should.

He knew just as well as they did, that they had nowhere else to go. No one else to turn to. He was their last hope. Sighing again he looked over the latest reports for their rations. They would need to be cut. Again.

In the face of the odds, with the increasing shortages, and mounting threats of exposure, lesser men would have given up years ago. Lucky for those counting on him, Maleco had never been a lesser man; standing when others bowed, speaking when others stayed silent, fighting when others submitted. Not only was he honorable, fair, strong and just, he was stubborn as all hell. Everything was telling him that they were beat, that it was over, but he simply refused to admit it. Refused to admit that there was nothing left he could do to protect the meager few in their world that he could. But even he was beginning to understand they were running out of options.

Options and time.

.

.

Meeting the newest arrivals only solidified his earlier admission that he would grant all of them sanctuary. Their stories weren't new but they were still heartbreaking. Cruel and malicious abuse at the hands of those meant to protect and guide them. Forced mating's. Rape. Enforced conceptions and ugly miscarriages. It was the same as the dozens and hundreds before, but George Maleco listened to each and every one. Watched every tear, heard every pain, and shame filled confession. Taking each and every one on as his own.

Some had tried to argue him into turning them away. Attempted to convince him that he owed these strangers nothing, not while his own people were still suffering, still struggling.

They argued that they were not his duty. Not his concern. But if not his, then whose? These innocents who had been so failed by so many, whose concern were they then?

They were here because of them, because of the actions of the strongest and supposed best of them all. It was their greed. Their hunger for power. Their need to increase their own selfish desires and wants, without any regard for those who would suffer from the consequences, who had brought them here. It was all of them. They were the ones who had failed them.

It may be true that, personally he had not hurt them. That in fact, he had tried to stop those who had. That his hands were clean of those sins, but did intention and in-action mean he was free of the guilt? Did it absolve duty? Just because he had tried to save them once, did that truly mean his hands were free? That turning his back now was excusable? Justifiable? Defensible?