Chapter 180

Theodore’s POV

Abigail was my longest resident – ever since she was pregnant with Marlo. After her first year in a tent, I had offered to build her a roof if not a house. She told me she had grown to love her little tent and that it was more important to save my resources for the next pregnant woman who had nowhere to go.

So I did.

Now the settlement was almost as populous as the rest of Midnight, and I was running out of ways to sustain it. The Shelter Project was a solution for all the problems there.

Abigail was an informal leader at the camp along with Ben, who Violet had met the first time she’d come here. When Ben first arrived, he had quite the temper. Putting him in a position of power where people looked to him for answers and offered him respect helped him learn to control it.

Sometimes all people needed was to feel like they belonged, like they had something of value to offer. Every now and again, I wondered if that’s what Eva needed. Or even Owen.

But some people were just cruel, no matter how many chances you gave them.

After Eva took a carriage home, Dahlia had joined me at the camp as I walked along with Abigail and Ben. The two of them updated me and my Beta on the state of affairs, fully understanding why I was allowing the settlement to become so run down.

“I really am sorry for that,” I said again, guilt tightening my chest. “If I had the resources to maintain Midnight, build the Shelter Project, and fix things here…”

“Alpha Nightshade,” Ben interrupted. “You have already given us a life we never thought we’d have. We know you are making sacrifices to give us a second chance when no one else would. You have nothing to apologize for.”

I nodded gratefully for his kind words, even though I wasn’t sure I agreed.

“How has the influx of werewolves been?” I made sure that every person added to the settlement became an official Midnight pack member so they wouldn’t have to wander as rogues anymore.

Abigail and Ben eyed each other, and my stomach dropped.

“We thought,” Abigail began as we wandered past tent after tent, quick roofs being raised over a dozen of them at a time as we spoke, “that the recent abolishment of the rogue law would slow the rate of new werewolves.”

My brows furrowed. “Which rogue law?”

Ben piped up. “The one making an automatic rogue out of anyone who attacks a noble person.”

I sighed in realization. I had forgotten about that, but the memory of watching Owen’s announcement the morning after the Vainthott Tea Party flashed through my mind.

I clenched my teeth at the reminder of the extraordinary lengths my half-brother had gone to in order to protect the man who physically attacked my mate. Without the abolishment of that law, Lucas would have automatically been made a rogue.

I nodded Abigail on.

“The problem is that all the press for the Shelter Project brought attention to our settlement.”

My shoulders dropped in realization. “So even though fewer werewolves are becoming rogues, all the rogues who already exist are flooding here.”

Abigail and Ben nodded in unison.

“How much longer can the camp support everyone at the current rate of immigration?”

Abigail eyed Ben again. “We’ll run out of tents in a week.”

I scoured the options in my mind. It was amazing, if not immensely stressful, how much everything seemed to be coming to a head all at the same time.

I turned to Dahlia. “Do you think the construction crew at the Shelter Project would be open to us adding workers from this settlement? They could help it get built up more quickly, and the workers we send over can start living there with their families to make room here for newcomers until the new location is ready.”

Dahlia nodded enthusiastically. “I think the crew would welcome that since they’ve been struggling to keep up with the optimistic schedule we requested. Especially if we cover the wages of the workers from here.”

“Done. Take out a loan from other territories if we have to in order to pay those workers. Just make it happen.”

I turned to Abigail and Ben next. “We’re having trouble finding work for the newcomers,” Ben shared. “This will help that, too.”

“And people are pretty nervous to move when making it here was already a harrowing journey for some of them,” Abigail added. “Knowing that some of our own are part of building the new place and having them able to report back that the progress is promising – that will go a long way for morale.”

“Great. I’d like you three to coordinate between the pack members qualified in construction here in the camp and the crew at the Shelter Project. I want those families moved in a week before you run out of tents.”

In unison, they all three smiled genuinely as they said, “Yes, Alpha.”

We arrived at the bridge Abigail had been talking about as Eva stormed away, all four of us crossing it together as Abigail and Ben walked us out.

“Oh, and one more thing,” I turned to look at them as we arrived at the carriage. “We can’t exactly keep calling it ‘the Shelter Project’. We’ll have to name the new city eventually.”

Abigail smiled the widest, and I wondered if there was something similar to naming a city as to naming a child. Somehow, it made this new creation feel more real.

“It’s ultimately up to you all,” I nodded to Abigail and Ben, “but I suggest Mel Rimanea. It means ‘new beginnings’ in the magical language.”

They all three beamed, the smiles never leaving their faces as Dahlia and I piled into the carriage. Once we had waved goodbye and were securely tucked away as the carriage rolled along the dirt road, Dahlia raised her eyebrows at me.

“Not worried about them knowing you speak the magical language? Most people only speak that if they have magic. They might put two and two together.”

I leaned against the wall of the carriage.

“It would only be speculation. Besides, these are people who were judged beyond reasonable measure, treated terribly because of how people perceived them before getting to know them. I highly doubt they’ll be quick to do the same to others.”

Dahlia nodded in concession.

“How’s the wedding planning?” I asked.

She let out a heavy sigh at that. “The community space in the center of town where we will have our ceremony will be done in a week. The foreman agreed, albeit under protest, to halt all construction at noon the day of the wedding for a full twenty-four hours.”

I nodded. The timeline was still tight, but it sounded like everything was coming together.

“Alpha?” I met my Beta’s gaze. “There’s something else I’d like to do for my wedding.”

I let out a half laugh. From the timing to the location to the guest list, practically every major detail of Dahlia’s wedding revolved around political strategy for my benefit. Yet another item on my growing list of reasons for guilt.

“Anything you want,” I said, and I meant it.

Dahlia smiled mischievously. “I want to invite the pack members from the refugee settlement. Every single one of them.”