“Jasper?” I say, hoping he’ll muster the strength to say something nice.
“It’s impressive,” he says finally, surveying the encampment with one eyebrow raised like he isn’t so sure. “Especially considering the lack of consistent leadership.”
Omar bristles a little at Jasper’s obviously underhanded compliment, but he shrugs it off. “That’s what’s so great about this place. Everyone has a voice. There isn’t one dictator controlling everything.”
Jasper locks eyes with Omar and steps toward him. “An alpha isn’t a dictator.”
“Fascism by any other name, right?” Omar says, not backing down—in fact, squaring his shoulders and stepping to face off with Jasper.
“What did you say?” Jasper growls.
“Heyheyhey,” I say, stepping between them, putting a hand on Jasper’s chest to ease him off. “Put the claws away. This is a peaceful place, right Omar?”
“Yeah,” he scoffs. “It is.” He steps back and turns away, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
Jasper withdraws as well.
“From what I’ve heard,” Omar begins, and I pray he isn’t about to provoke Jasper further, “your mother was pretty instrumental in helping this place get off the ground.”
Jasper doesn’t say anything. He glares sideways at Omar, studying him to see if this is some kind of goading or if he’s sincere.
“People around here, they talk about her like she was some kind of saint.”
Still, Jasper doesn’t say anything.
“She must have believed the rogues needed a place like this, where they could be safe.”
“She…” Jasper falters. “She cared about all people. No matter who or—whatthey are.”
Omar rakes his eyes over Jasper’s face carefully. “Shame the acorn fell so far from the tree.”
Jasper lifts his head once more, his chin a proud blade slicing the air.
“Come on,” Omar says. “Tomas will be waiting.”
Jasper hangs back a little but follows Omar and me as we make our way down one of the five paths until we emerge at what appears to be a construction site. Bare wooden poles are being dug into the ground, crossbeams nailed into them, and the tent roof, which is only halfway erected, is being strung up between them.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“It will be a school,” Omar says, “when it’s finished. We sort of outgrew the last one.” He gestures to a wide patch of dirt off to the side where fifty or sixty kids of all ages are sitting in groups listening to a handful of teachers. “Our numbers have been swelling lately. Tension in the packs is forcing more and more people to go rogue, and well, a lot of them end up here. Since the weather is nice we’re holding classes outside until the new school tent can be completed.”
“How long will it take?”
“Should have only been a couple of weeks,” Omar says. “But with more and more wolves flocking to us, the council decided to divert some of our wolfpower to the security teams, to ensure the new arrivals don’t attract any unwanted attention from the packs.”
“Why? What would the packs do if they found out about this place?”
“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend?”
I turn to Jasper, who has just caught up, but before I can say anything Tomas approaches us, pulling off a pair of gloves and lifting a pair of protective glasses onto the top of his head.
“Ah, there you are,” Tomas says. “Just in time. We can use all the help we can get.”
Jasper leans into me and whispers. “What is he talking about?”
Omar answers for me. “We thought while Max was learning from Yoki, that you, Jasper, could help out with our wolfpower-shortage problem and lend a hand to our builders.”
“I—excuse me?” Jasper asks, so low even I can hardly make him out.
