“If he refuses, there must be a good reason. And clearly, he’s doing fine despite the handicap, so that’s something Kodi would have to decide if it takes him out of the running, not me.”
Slowly, she nods and drops it. “So who are the other two in your top three?”
I turn to her with a smirk. “A secret. Your punishment for putting me in this awkward position to begin with.”
She tosses her head back with an exaggerated groan. “You suck, but I suppose I deserve it. After Kodiak picks, will you let me know who was in the running?”
“Deal.”
We wander the next block in silence, giving me time to study everything happening around us without needing to carry on a conversation, and I’m a little concerned at how well Carina reads me. She seems to know just how far she can push, when to take a step back... she manages people as effortlessly as her brother, guiding them into doing exactly what she wants.
Raiden called her for help to win me over so I’d want to stay in Khalida. Carina doesn’t necessarily want to spend time with me, she’s doing her brother a favor.
While I attempt to shove down the depressive thought, I look past the whispering people that nervously glance away when I make eye contact, and to the crowd as a whole. There are several clearly mated groups; the men flank their women to act as buffers, but there isn’t any nervous tension emanating off of them like they’re expecting to get into a fight, more just naturally protecting their mate from getting jostled. More notably, there are a few clusters of women giggling and chatting up a storm while they walk down the sidewalk as freely as human women. No rigid shoulders, no glancing around warily, and not even rushing to get to their destination. They simply exist, lost in their happy little bubble, laughing with friends without fear of being kidnapped.
Whipping my head to the other side of the street, I watch men and women pass by each other, and sure, the guys puff up their chests and send flirtatious smirks or check out their asses when the girls walk right on by, but they don’t take so much as a single step to follow or harass them. It’s epically depressing how low the fucking bar is in our society that any of this is even noteworthy.
“What do you do with the women that show up here? You’ve got to have hundreds of pissed off packs and prides that come after them trying to bring them back with this many women roaming around.”
Her face lights up, and I internally curse at the realization that my attempt at throwing off her tour of Khalida’s greatest hits in search of the ugly side played right into her hand. “Let me show you.”
Changing paths, she makes a beeline for the center of the city with single-minded determination, as excited as if I’d suggested we skip the main course and go straight to dessert.
“I give you the transition center,” she announces with a dramatic sweep of her hand. A large building made of fortified steel connects two towering buildings. The left side has to be at least eight stories high, with the one on the right about half that. “We get our fair share of men coming from shitty situations too, just not as frequently. To make everyone more comfortable, we have separate buildings for housing, but the main lobby is meant to gradually acclimate people into being around the opposite sex and see that there’s nothing to fear here. Of course, if someone’s not there yet, we don’t force the issue and make accommodations accordingly.”
In full sale’s pitch mode, she strides up to the doors and hits a button on the intercom. A gruff voice demands, “State your names and business.”
Carina puts her face in full view of the camera aimed our way. “Carina and Amara Garrison. Brought the new queen of the castle for a tour to prove we’re not brainwashing the villagers.”
A brief pause, then an annoyingly extended buzzer sounds as the door unlocks, stopping the moment it closes behind us. It traps us in an anteroom with another set of steel doors, only a window with bulletproof glass in here with us. It shows off a hulking man sitting on the other side, an arm on the counter as he leans closer to the glass.
“AmaraGarrison?” he repeats without a scowl in his tone now, looking me over, and I’m admittedly a little impressed that he continues to talk to me instead of flicking his attention over to Carina for an explanation. “Raiden and them boys finally found themselves a mate? Or are we dealing with a mark-mate situation and legion rift I should expect some fallout from?”
I’m sure knowing the facts about someone’s situation helps him keep people safe in his line of work, but I’m not his client, and the lie is out of my mouth before I even think twice. “No mark, fortunately.” The shy smile on my face isn’t fake though. “Not sure what I’d do if I couldn’t have all three of them equally. Hence my bodyguard here to snap her jaws at anyone that ventures too close for comfort.” I grimace. “I can only imagine how awkward everything would get if I found my mark-matenow.”
He dips his head, hitting the buzzer to let us into the main building. “Mark-mate’s trump all other claims, but no man worth his salt is letting his mate go without bloodshed. Either they’d keep the new guy locked in the dungeon since they couldn’t kill him without losing you, or they’d fight to their last breaths so they wouldn’t have to live with the pain of having their mate stolen out from under them.”
He states it so matter-of-factly, not trying to be a dick about it, just blunt. It doesn’t keep me from wincing, though.
“A lovely reminder to continue living like a hermit.”
He waves me off. “Mark-mates are one in a million, don’t lose any sleep over it. And between those three?” Exhaling heavily, he actually shudders. “I don’t envy the poor soul that tries to get between them and their mate. You’ll be fine, miss Amara.”
I can’t figure out a decent response, so I don’t bother trying, simply give him a curt nod and beat Carina into the lobby. Taking a few steps out of the doorway, I take a second to close my eyes and settle my nerves.
Carina leans against the wall beside me. “Aaron didn’t mean anything by it, he’s a black and white kind of guy. Facts are facts, emotions are secondary and a logical result of said facts. It’s why he’s the perfect gatekeeper. He doesn’t fall for any sob stories some jackhole might use to weasel their way in here, and he won’t hesitate to call up the resident to fact check the visitor’s story or sick the wrath of the gods on liars.”
Eyes still closed, I thump my head back against the wall, getting my head on straight before continuing our tour. “And what does ‘the wrath of the gods’ look like in this place?”
“Raiden or me,” she replies without missing a beat. “Security in the building would handle the threat initially, but their job is just that; keeping this place secure, and the residents safe. Anyone that’s stupid enough to try and hurt or abduct someone under our protection deals with us so we can make an example of them. The city’s reputation is too important to let someone off with a slap on the wrist. A heartbroken brother comes to check on his sister that was being abused by her mates and finally escaped? Awesome, but it’s after he’s vetted. Attempt to lie your way into gaining access to your victim again? Buuuuullllllllfuckingshit we’ll let that slide.”
Cringing, I give her a guilty look, and she shakes her head infinitesimally without calling me out for my own lie. “Not the same circumstances in the slightest. Aaron wouldn’t have said shit to anyone. The guy is like the Pentagon with secrets. But there are far too many people in this city that have advanced hearing and it isn’t worth the risk.”
Clapping a hand on my shoulder, she drags me back into the fray. “The main building contains the processing center, the therapists’ offices, and the placement coordinator. People are welcome as long as they need, but we ultimately aim for getting everyone on their own feet. The second floor of each housing tower has the basics; kitchen and dining hall, a gym, and a couple of rec rooms. The third and up are the apartments. Only studio sized, but again, this is supposed to be a transitional building.”
I appreciate how they set it up so they have a buffer between the people seeking refuge and the ground floor so they can sleep easier knowing no one is going to break in through their windows. We pass a few women that are obviously new arrivals, still covered in a smattering of bruises in various stages of healing, and a hardened glint to their eyes, but even they drift closer to the security personnel milling about. That in itself is telling. Each man stationed around the building is a beast of a man, but the women look at them as if they’re nothing more than teddy bears, gravitating towards them for a sense of security because they make them feel safe.
And not a single guard takes advantage of their position, simply assuring the women and coaxing some smiles out of them by joking around. The second they catch sight of me, a complete stranger, they stand tall and adjust their stances to act as a blockade between me and the residents despite my appearance and access to the building. I respect them all the more, for accepting that women can be just as much of a threat and not being won over by sad eyes or a pretty face.
