The Luna’s Past

Chapter 2: Gimme Shelter

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David snapped back to the moment, disoriented from his memories.

Chasen nodded grimly. "And he has three pups with him. An Alpha attacked them. Chris is pretty banged up."

David clenched his fists. "Prepare the pack for his arrival. We need to decide what this means. Whether we protect him ... or turn him away." But David knew, no matter how much time had past. He'd never turn Chris away.

He stared out the window at the darkening forest.

The boy who had been his mate, his friend, the storm he never tamed, was coming home.

Following protocol for an emergency asylum claim, members of the pack hierarchy assembled in the council lodge in anticipation of meeting the seeker. The double doors to the hall creaked open, and silence fell like a thunderclap.

David stood from his chair at the head of the long table, every instinct in his body locked on the figures being ushered inside. Beta Chasen and a few enforcers led the group.

And then he saw him. Chris. His once best friend. His fated mate.

Gaunt, bruised, and limping. His face was thinner, jaw sharper, eyes sunken with exhaustion. The hoodie he wore was blood-stained and torn at the shoulder, the three pups trailing behind him were in no better condition.

The oldest boy in front, looked to be about 6, walked with a stiff caution that didn't match his age. His wide dark eyes surveying the room. Holding the boy's hand was a girl, smaller, curly-haired clutched a makeshift doll. She was wide-eyed, studying their new surroundings. And the toddler, a chubby-faced girl, was carried on Chris's hip, she wore a long stained shirt, thumb in her mouth, head resting on Chris's chest, though he winced with every step.

David's wolf stirred inside him, snarling protectively.He struggled for control. What had happened to him?

Chris's eyes those annoyed, guarded, familiar eyes locked on his, and all David could feel was heat, confusion and longing.

"Christopher Fenwick," spoke Elder Rowan, voice firm. "You left this pack of your own free will many years ago. You come back unannounced injured, with three pups. Explain yourself."

Chris stood there, swaying slightly under the pain in his ribs, lips tight. Feeling like a spectacle.

"I was attacked," he said flatly. "I came here for my children, I ask for help on our behalf. Chris would never be ashamed to ask for safety for his pups, he'd beg if need be, but hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Who attacked you? We need to be told if you've led rogues to our border" the Elder emphasized.

"Not by rogues ... by an Alpha."

Gasps rippled through the room. Teeth clinched. David stiffened. It was practically a death penalty level offense in most civilized packs to attack a female or an omega without cause. But Chris had been with rogues, they abided by no such law.

"And this Alpha is looking for you now?" asked former Alpha Tanner, from his seat behind the dais. In the time Chris was gone the Alpha's hair had gone completely white, but he was still a site to behold. His powerful presence still commanded the room. It almost brought tears to his eyes to see the man he'd always admired. Growing up he envied David for having such a "kick ass" father.

Chris hesitated, and his finally voice cracked on the words. "I don't know." He was, if he was still alive and Chris was sure of it, he would be after them. But he wouldn't mention that.

"You brought them here for protection?" a Gamma named Lyra questioned.

Chris nodded. "Yes. We got nowhere else to go."

"And the children?" asked Rowan. "Who is the father? Could he not have been an option for you instead of coming back here?"

Chris's eyes hardened, this old coot did not want him here. "No."

Chris leaves it at that but the old man pressed. "Who and where is he?"

"With all due respect ... Elder, I said no. If I had other options I would have used them before wandering through No Man's Land and rogue territory to get here!" Chris's voice rising.

Changing the subject, Gamma Lyra asks only one of the many-most-important questions. "Where have you been you all this time? Where did you go when you left us?

Chris tilted his head, trying to keep his voice steady, remembering this was for his pups. Voice low and bitter with a slight tremor. "When I left here I got picked up by a rogue gang that traded omegas. The Alpha that runs the gang is the one that attacked me." Murmurs rippled through the chamber.

David's fists clenched at his sides.

Luna Philippa, speaking up for the first time finally spoke. "And how did you escape?" Chris observed how elegant and beautiful she still was. She'd always included him and treated him nice. He'd missed her kind words and soft touches more than he could say.

Chris's voice softened for the first time. "When he attacked me, I managed to get him with silver and we just ran, I didn't look back. I don't know if he's alive or not."

"A rogue gang!? You've been rutting with rogues all this time in Goddess knows where? Now you want crawl back to us, bringing the chaos to our borders?" More murmurs in the chamber. "And what of your past behavior issues here?" Continued Elder Rowan, he was on a roll. "You were a known troublemaker even before you left. Seems it only followed you."

"That's enough, there's no need for all that", David finally spoke up, stopping the cranky old man's accurate assessment of Chris tirade, briefly locking eyes with Chris again.

Chris's jaw clenched, he wanted to revisit his hellion days and verbally thrash the Elder. Truthfully, his hope was waning, would his past façade really stop them from being granted asylum? He was out of options. "What? Do you want me to beg? I just told you my pups are in danger and you're asking me about when I was a teenager? Fine. If I can't stay, could my pups stay? I'll do whatever you want, just help me keep my kids alive." He finished. "Please."

"Pwtty puweese can we stay puweese" came a little voice, addressing no one in particular. The little girl holding the doll.

A strangled sound escaped Gamma Lyra's throat. The little plea even shutting up the cantankerous Elder Rowan.

Chris looked away. Not from fear. From disgust. With himself. His little girl was begging on their behalf, and she just might have saved them. He was such a lousy father, he couldn't bit back the tears for much longer.

David noticed.

"My children deserve a safe place to stay. They deserve ...better than me. Help us, please." The "please" was silent as his voice cracked and a tear finally cascaded from one eye.

David stepped forward, having had enough of this, he couldn't stomach it any longer. His voice low but firm. "The Crescent Hollow pack grants you sanctuary."

Chris could have collapsed under the weight of his relief. David continued, "For them. Not for you. You'll be under probation. Any impropriety and I will have you removed", a sharp edge to his tone. From this moment until they reach their 72nd season, they are under the protection of this pack. We're adjourned."

"Thank you" Chris replied softly, chest aching with relief and the overdue damage to their mate bond.

"You'll stay in the pack house. East Quarters. Luna Philippa added, gesturing to someone behind them. One of the pack's omegas, a soft-eyed young woman stepped forward.

"Come with me, I'll take the children. They need food. A Healer's care." Chris hesitated, eyes darting protectively to his kids. "You'll come too," she offered quickly. "You all will go to the infirmary."

Chris looked towards the Luna Philippa. She met his gaze and mouthed, "They'll be safe."

A long beat passed. "Okay." He nodded, eyes hollow. "Yes Luna," cautiously following after the omega. Juggling his baby girl, Misha, onto his other also-aching hip, while little Phi took the Omega's hand easily. Beside him, his 6 year old son, Julian's face remained as still and unmoving as a weathered stone, his small frame walking steadily, despite a slight limp, refusing to close the gap between them. Julian may hate him and he may be a s**t father, which he knew he was. But he'd done something right. He'd brought them home.

He looked over his shoulder, his wolf begging for another glimpse of David. He found him. Staring back.

The pack house infirmary lay just beyond the council hall, its sturdy timbers rising against the fading light. Yet, the walk felt endless, each step a slow ache that pulsed through his weary limbs. Around the pack square, figures drifted like shadows, their eyes flickering with quiet curiosity. Some whispered behind cupped hands, others pointed with tentative recognition. He pressed on, muscles protesting.

Broken ribs bandaged, ointment slathered on deep bruises and bitter tannis root tea to help his wolf healing abilities, Chris and the pups were released from the infirmary. He and the pups were worked on gently and given the order to rest and check in if there is any additional discomfort. He closed the heavy door behind him to the regal ensuite bathroom, the solid wood muffling the world outside. This was the room in the pack house loaned to him by Luna Philippa. A quiet sanctuary carved out amidst the chaos, where marble gleamed and polished fixtures shined bright. The first thing Chris wanted to do besides sleep forever, was bathe his kids. He's not even sure how long they had been running from the rundown warehouse they housed the Omegas and rogue gang members. Where he'd left Victor writhing on the dirty floor. Skin bubbling from the silver shard embedded in his thigh.

He figured it had turned to night nine or ten times, he wasn't sure, most of their time running was spent in his wolf form, carrying either one of the girls while the other clung to Julian's hand. He hunted small game and fed them raw, praying their wolf-less immune systems wouldn't reject the uncooked meat. A fire, he knew, could draw the wrong eyes. They slept in hovels and abandoned dens, rinsed off in lowland creeks and streams, and kept to the water's edge whenever they could to help mask their scents.

Among Shifter-kind, there was an ancient saying: the moon will guide you home. For Chris, that night, it felt true. He kept his eyes on the Goddess's silver face in the sky, following her light as though it were a lifeline, praying it would lead him and his pups to safety. Surprise and recognition struck together when the valley ahead took shape — Old Man's Landing, the familiar rocky knoll whose jagged rise and fall formed the profile of an aged face when seen from high ground. Chris knew he was far from the Crescent Hollow pack but from here he knew the way home. He gave the scenic view a watery smile and pushed onward with his pups.

Steam already curling from the claw tub's faucet's spout, it was deep enough to fit all three pups. He kept his back to them as he stripped off the crusted hoodie and blood-specked shirt, trying to hide the mottled bruises outlining the bindings on his ribs. The gash above his hip had been wrapped by the Healers, but it tugged with every breath. This was 100% better condition than he'd been in when they'd run. His wolf's healing had helped some but it was slow going, malnutrition hindering his natural ability.

"Okay, monsters," he muttered turning around, forcing his voice into something light, "time to see if my babies are under all this dirt."

Phi (pronounced Fee) giggled as he lifted her into the water first, followed by Misha, who whimpered in her half-sleep, curling into her sister.

Julian stood at the doorway, unmoving. "Come on, clothes off. You're getting in too," Chris said, not looking at him.

Julian didn't move. Chris turned, his eyes tired. "Julian. Please."

"I can wash myself," Julian said, voice flat.

Chris ran a hand through his hair. "Fine."

Julian peeled his torn shirt off slowly, his bruised skin raw and sickly yellow from the imprint of Victor's steel-toed boot. The sight of it made Chris's stomach tighten in a way that made it hard to breathe.

"Why didn't you stay put?" the guilt choking him as he spoke. He grabbed a washrag, his hands trembling as he began rinsing little Misha's hair, avoiding the weight of his own failure. Remembering the precursor to his escape. Guilt clouding his senses.

Chris had been with a frequent visitor to the warehouse. Down below, the Omegas and their bastard pups were kept like livestock. Upstairs, the 'business' was done in small single-file rooms filled with the scent of desperation and perfumed cruelty. It was where they were all trapped, playing parts in a sick, unending cycle.

He'd given Julian simple instructions before heading upstairs, which his son bucked against like he was going for the win in an old world rodeo, stay in the Omega quarters.

The bath water sloshed. Chris frozen, stuck in the memory, so vivid it nearly consumed him.

In the occupied room, just getting started with the client, Julian came in running, already with the makings of a bloody nose jostling little Misha like a potato sack. Phi, behind him wailing, the group followed by a soaked, pissed Victor.

Julian had gotten tired of waiting, he was hungry, so were his sisters. And Sky too, one of the other pups who'd fallen ill needed food. He hated this place and everyone in it and the dirty things they did upstairs. And his dad, he definitely hated his dad. All he did was tell his dad to leave and all his dad did was tell him it wasn't the right time.

Having had enough Julian stands from the makeshift pallet on the cement floor in the Omega quarters. Walking to the rusted door and pulling the old lever. "Where are you going" Phi asked following behind him with her doll.

"To the kitchen" he continued to pull until he heard the latch clip, the door opened with a sickening squeal. "Stay here" he said and he bolted up the metal stairs leaving his sister behind. Hearing the rattle of bodies and whispers above, he reached the central hub of the warehouse that housed the kitchenette area. A few of the men were sprawled out, laughing, their hands all over the Omegas who were pinned in laps, forced to smile. He darted across to the fridge, opening it and grabbing the first items be saw. Some cheese curds, bread and a dark glass bottle, he'd heard the rogues talking about it, it was from somewhere called the Wheatley Pack, famous for its ale and spirits. Julian figured it was good to try, popping off the tight lid with a quick twist, and he took a quick swig, grimacing at the taste. Leaving to deliver his bounty, he was confronted with the crotch of a pair of black pants, he looked up, slate gray eyes mirroring is own glaring back at him.

"Put that back you thieving s**t and go back to the fuckin' bottom!" Victor's roar sliced through the air like a whip.

Julian returned his glare. "I'm hungry".

"I said put it back!" Victor's hand swung out, connecting with Julian's cheek with the crack of bone against bone. Dropping the food, Julian's body flew back with the force of it, slamming into the open fridge. His vision blurred as pain shot through him. Victor goes to swing again, the boy still slumped against the fridge does the only thing he could think of, stomped on Victors boot. Not hurting him in the least, only enraging him further. "You earned this pup".

"Stop!" comes the scream of Phi like a little Valkyrie. Victor swirls on her. She sees the already spilling bottle on the floor, grabs it, eyes closed, flings it wildly, with the arm not precariously holding her little sister. Phi grabs her brother's hand with a speed born of sheer desperation and runs. They take the stairs, hearing Victor's thundering steps just breath away. They run to the 4th door, the one they always saw daddy disappear through with the men.

Chris was stunned when his babies piled into the room. His client jumps up from the bed, eyes wide with confusion. "What in hell's going on here?"

Victor stumbles in a second later, lunging for the pups, managing to wack a standing Julian, who's now holding Misha. Victor goes for Phi, grabbing a chunk of her soft hair, pulling her off the ground with terrifying ease as she screamed. "Let my baby go!" comes Chris his voice breaking with fear, trying separate Victor's hand from his baby's head. Victor's headbutt came fast and brutal, splitting Chris's vision into bursts of stars. Big hands go around his neck, words fly from Victor's mouth, so close he can see the curved vain on Victor's left temple. His vision starts swimming as he hears his pups struggling and screaming. Chris's flailing hand catches something on Victor's side, he tugs on it, anything to make him let go. He can't black out with his babies in here. One tug comes with a searing pain on his finger. Ignoring it, he grabs the weighted object ripping it free from its holster, and slammed it down with everything he had.

Chris collapsed to the floor in a sitting position. Sucking in ragged breaths. His vision clears as the room explodes into chaos as his client bolts for the door. Victor is on the floor, yelling, his kids kicking and hitting Victor, his baby girl, on the floor leaned over, wide eyed at the scene. Chris jumps up, runs to the open door, he can see the customer causing a stir, can see some rogues headed upstairs due to Victor's cry. He shuts the door, hard, trying to jam it. Knowing it won't hold he runs to the small window, his heart pounding, his breath a harsh rasp. They would get caught but they had to try, Victor would kill him for this for sure and sell off the kids like he'd always threatened to. He breaks off a piece of the splintered wooden bed post, beating at the window, he hears the knob rattling violently, knows in another second they'd be in. The window cracks and breaks, he feeds Phi threw first, "Go!" then Julian, then his baby, last, Chris's overly skeletal build squeezes through easily, the jagged remnants from the window sliding against his hip, as the door slams open, knocked off the hinges, landing satisfyingly on Victor, he lets out more excruciating cries.

Once on the roof he grabs all of his babies, adrenaline pushing him faster than he'd ever moved. He jumps, hoping his dull and rusty wolf reflexes don't fail him. He lands, his knee buckling painfully as he hit the ground, but takes off as fast as he can. They would get caught but he and his babies would die together. He didn't care what happened to him but he'd send them to the Goddess himself before he'd let them be sold off and forced to sell themselves away like him.

They ran. And Ran. And weren't caught. The chaos in the warehouse between the unhappy customer and Victor's commotion must've brought in the patrols. While they all investigated inside, it gave them just enough time.

No one caught the escape until too late.

He was glad his son didn't stay put.

He took his squeaky clean girls to bed. Changing them into the frilly borrowed clothes from the pack. His girls were clean and safe, his son was bathing. And once he was done Chris would scrub himself raw. He'd never scrub hard enough to remove the violation, the hurt, the pain, unwelcome groping and touches. But he'd try, then he'd sleep for a thousand years. And when he woke up, maybe he could figure out ... his ex best friend/fated mate and ... life.