Page 198 of Knot Their Soldier: Part Three

Blackgate feels different these days, and even the air has changed.

The stench of anxiety and fear isn't clogging the corridors, and there is even the bright scent of happiness seeping through.

From the supply storeroom I'm working in, I hear voices calling across the courtyard and the distant rumble of vehicles coming and going through the gate under Viper’s inspection.

Somewhere deeper in the fortress, a child shrieks with laughter, loud and unbothered, and the sound stops me in my tracks every time. There are children here now, and they laugh and play as if they're not orphans of war.

Everlyn’s answer returns every time I hear them. I’m not pregnant. I still haven’t decided what I feel about that, and I keep finding another task before I have to, which isn't hard because there is a lot of work to be done.

Refugees from Fathim who somehow survived the Human army's invasion are still making their way to us. Here, they can sleep through the night safely, and there are cooks arguing over the proper seasoning of stew instead of rationing every portion. We'll have to restrict the food portions soon, but not yet. We all deserve a hearty, filling meal.

Blackgate grows busier each day as its people repair the damage, welcome survivors, and rebuild their routines.

The walls are still scarred from the artillery attacks, and parts of the road up to Blackgate are still pockmarked and damaged where the battle tore through it. Patrols still go out at dawn and come back mud-and-blood-streaked by dusk. Lingering pockets of Humans are still in Fathim, and nobody here is foolish enough to think danger is truly gone for good.

Still, the fortress continues to thrive with each passing day.

I walk into the inner courtyard with a basket of mended uniforms over one arm, stitched carefully back together where the fabric had torn from bullet holes and knife slashes, and people greet me like I belong. Soldiers nod, and the Beta women who work in the laundry smile like we're old friends. An older woman I helped settle into new quarters last week always asks how my Pack is doing.

Nobody watches me with suspicion or confusion anymore because I proved that I belong here and that an Omega is worthy.

At the far end of the yard, Knox is conferring with two squad leaders over a datapad resting on a crate. Shade is halfway up the stairs to communications with a stack of datapads braced against his chest. Blaze has not returned from recon yet, which means he will probably swagger in by dinner looking filthy and pleased with himself, with a new kill count to report. Viper stands at the gate in full kit, broad as a wall, checking the latest truck back from a scavenging run through the nearby towns and villages.

Three weeks ago, people would have watched him with open hatred.

Viper killed General Stone in cold blood, and for a while Blackgate treated him like a rabid thing barely kept on a leash. A monster and a threat. Someone to fear, blame, and avoid. Now they know that he's only ferocious when something he loves is under attack. They watched him bleed not just for me, but for them. They saw him plant himself between death and everyone behind these walls without hesitation or flinching.

The hatred is gone.

To be fair, nobody is suddenly trying to make friends either.

They give him the same wary berth they give Blaze, along with the caution and distant respect reserved for soldiers who are undeniably dangerous and firmly on your side. It suits Viper perfectly. He has never needed admiration from a crowd. He only needs a deep connection with the people he loves.

I drop off my bundle of uniforms to one of the Alpha bunkrooms trying not to wrinkle my nose at how strong the scent of pheromones and spunk is, then make my way back home.

Home.

It still doesn't feel permanent just yet, but the word is starting to fit.

The move happened so gradually that I didn't notice it at first.

One day I’m still thinking of the old stone cabin at the edge of the fortress as our Pack den, and the next I realize I haven’t slept there in over a week.

I mean, the move makes sense.

The General's office sits at the heart of Blackgate, and the quarters above it are larger, warmer, and better protected than the cabin ever was. More importantly, Knox is always there now.

Since the day of the attack when he took over command of Blackgate Fortress and its forces, he hasn't stepped back. He is the General. No one gave him that title, nor was there an election, but when the fortress needed a leader, he stepped up and the fortress fell in line behind him. He's undeniably our leader now and no one has challenged him for it.

He spends most of his days in the office, bent over maps, patrol reports, supply lists, and the endless demands of keeping this army and refuge with an ever-growing population alive. Blackgate’s new General barely leaves his post, working day and night, which means the rest of us have gravitated around him instead.

Shade drifts in and out with coded reports and updates on whatever new system he is building to keep this place running. Viper comes up from the gate between escorts and border checks, still carrying the cold of outside with him. Blaze returns from recon, tosses his bloodied gear in a corner like he has always lived here, then sprawls over wherever space is available. And me?

I'm right in the thick of it beside him.

Somehow, without any formal conversation, the five of us have migrated from the outskirts of Blackgate into its center. We are no longer tucked away in that little stone cabin like a temporary solution.

We live here now, above the office where Blackgate is run, in rooms that once belonged to a dead General and now belong to my Pack.