Shelter 2014 Film Novels & Stories

The shelter's coordinates were etched into my mind, guiding me through the wilderness towards the place where I hoped to find her. But fate seemed to have other plans, as the reality hit me like a blow to the chest upon arriving at the shelter. She was gone, the traces of her presence fading like a whisper in the wind. The shelter's borders were no longer a safe haven due to the rising threat of rogue war – a threat that seemed to encroach from every angle, tightening its grip on my mate.

“Sinatra. But he figured out what we’re doing with the women.” I exhaled sharply like I’d been hit. This was the bad news we’d been waiting for since that first rescue. We’d hidden the shelter under a series of shell corporations to make sure anybody who took issue with the work couldn’t immediately reach the women, but they could always reach Tom and me here. “What do we do?” I asked quietly. He pulled his arm out of my grasp and wrapped it around my shoulders. I cuddled into his chest, sucking down a lungful of his scent and trying not to panic.

"And don't say nothing! I refuse to sit around and do nothing while everyone deals with all of this." "We have the housing for the members, leaders, and warriors figured out, and Annie has assigned the omegas to their jobs for the duration of the stay. We have to meet with the contractors in the morning for the final walk-through of the completed shelters. Since you'll still have to stay hidden, for now, Orian will FaceTime you. Just make sure it's muted." He says, and I nod. I'm not satisfied, but I am relieved that the shelters have been completed in time for this mess. "I'm glad the shelters have been completed, but I need something to focus on," I say.

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains depictions of ongoing captivity, domestic abuse, trauma, and mentions of past suicidal ideation/self-harm. Reader discretion is advised. It's easy to just give up and die. It's easy to just leave the pain here, to just vanish to feel free. It is such an easy thing to do for people who are completely exhausted by life, like me. I only wish I had just died from blood loss or an infection from the nail I saw. With that, I'll escape all the sufferings.

“I know we just met, Samantha, but if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.” “Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but there’s nothing to talk about.” I study her for a moment, wondering what it is she’s trying to hide. Maybe she had an abusive childhood. She did seem to lose it when I told her the charity was about abused children. Damn, I want to know what she's hiding. “So, back to the charity. It is formal, and it’s in a couple of days, so keep your calendar clear.” “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“How about we go and see our daughter?” “Yes.” I said, making him smile. A few minutes later we reached the underground shelter beneath the pack house. Two warriors stood guard at the entrance, and the moment they saw Nathan they bowed. “Alpha.” Nathan nodded. “Open the doors.” The heavy steel doors swung inward, and my eyes widened when I saw how crowded the shelter was. Families filled the room, some humans, others were younger wolves… children clung to parents while elders sat quietly against the walls. The conversation dropped the second we walked in, and everyone turned their attention to us.

I inform him. “We saw, don’t worry,” he replies. “Mindy is overwriting the lock.” It takes all my self-control not to tap my foot or fiddle with my fingers out of impatience. I want to get out of this hallway and into that shelter. Finally, there is a soft beep, and the door clicks open. “Go, go,” I rush everyone inside. “Wow,” Matt mumbles once we are inside, and I look around. Not only is the shelter equipped with beds and chairs. There is also plenty of food, water, and medicine.

Stomach churned, but I needed the fuel to keep standing, let alone fighting. The shelter sat deep underground, behind thick doors and layers of stone and packed earth. Twenty feet of barrier between the children and the chaos topside. Guards nodded us through every checkpoint. Helena ran it tight—shifts rotating, supplies stocked, escape tunnels mapped just in case. We found Erica in the main chamber, cross-legged on blankets with a cluster of little ones. She read from a worn picture book, voice steady, about a brave wolf who outsmarted hunters to save her pack. The kids leaned in, wide-eyed, hanging on every word. She kept them calm, distracted.

I personally have spared with her since returning, learning a few new techniques from the three-hundred year old wolf who vowed her Loyalty to me the moment she saw me at the masquerade ball. “They are going well. We managed to clean out four of the six shelters completely and replace many of the furniture inside. Sadly, two of the shelters have fallen apart and flooded from the snow. It seems they were not sealed properly when they were made.” Abbigail answers, a smile on her face.

It was a scar on the face of the dead world, but a scar that was healing, turning into something new. The main gate of Birkin Shelter was a formidable structure, a reinforced wall of shipping containers and scrap metal, topped with barbed wire and punctuated by two guarded watchtowers. As the blue sedan approached, a figure waved from the left tower, and the heavy, makeshift gate, mounted on shrieking metal rollers, began to grind open just wide enough for the vehicle to pass through.