- Work in Progress
- Discussion - Murder
- Disturbing Imagery
- Action Adventure
Peter screamed as Derek took a torch to his chest. Talia, his Alpha, her agonized screeching while burning alive in front of him was behind his closed eyes.
His screaming cut off to a whimper when the pain suddenly dulled to a lower heat. Peter blearily opened his eyes only to see the agony on Derek’s face while working the torch over his flesh. Dark black veins of his pain were being drained from his body. The lines raced up the strong arm from the hand on his shoulder holding him still for treatment.
He could breathe again.
“Thank you,” he choked out, his mouth dry. He didn’t have any spit left in his mouth and it reminded him of the movie Jaws for a second. At least the image of Richard Dreyfuss trying to spit into his goggles took the image of his sister burning to death out of his brain. That image was always in his dreams, as well as the rest of his family on fire around him. He’d been helpless to stop it.
The torch, thankfully, finally turned off. Derek set it on the table next to Peter. He didn’t take his hand away, continuing to drain the pain while they both watched Peter’s chest close rapidly now the poison was gone. It was like the night of the vault after Stiles had treated him with the Nine Herbs. He was healing faster than he’d been since he’d come back. Thinking about it, his strength had returned as well since that night. The night Stiles and Lydia had treated him with such care.
It was remarkable, he knew the resurrection magic should’ve continued to make him weak, at least for several years. He’d expected it unless he’d been able to regain the power of an alpha. Now, in less then a year, his body was doing what it should be doing as a virile born beta wolf.
Peter didn’t like not knowing things and not knowing why he was suddenly better was a question he’d liked answered. Though, if he was honest with himself, he certainly wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, if he never figured it out.
The wound closed and the pain was gone. The veins on Derek’s arm dissipating from black to gray, to nothing.
Peter tipped his head back exposing his throat, trusting Derek wouldn’t hurt him and let the relief of the healing loosen his muscles. He was covered in sweat and ash but wallowed in feeling fully himself for the first time in almost seven years.
He opened his eyes to find Derek looking at him quizzically.
“I’m okay, better than I’ve been in a long time.”
Peter pushed himself off the table. The thing was so solid, it had survived having a hundred and seventy-pound werewolf thrown into it without a scratch. He made his way to the sofa and flopped on it, much like Stiles was want to do, though without all the flailing. Peter’s lips twitched at the thought. He just closed his eyes and drifted.
“Here,” Derek said, handing him a glass of water. He took a seat in the armchair, his hands were shaking a bit, Peter noticed sipping the cool liquid taking the dryness in his mouth away. Derek was probably coming down from the adrenaline of Peter’s call, the pain he’d taken, or he mused, finding his uncle bleeding out black blood all over his floor.
Peter gave a wave taking in the tomahawk, computer parts attached to a single leather glove, and papers sprawled across the floor. “An Astomi was in your place when I came by to talk to you.”
“The Mute, an assassin that I’ve heard about, only in rumor. It didn’t have a mouth and it’s supernatural in origin, though very rare. It was here to kill you, Derek. Though, it seems, I was also on it’s list.”
“Since it’s not here, I assume it booked it?” Derek asked, looking around in exaggeration as if he’d missed seeing a body in a dark corner, or something. The sass, his nephew had had as a young boy had been long absent. It was good to see it.
Peter snorted. “I wounded it enough, it took off. Unfortunately, none of its injuries are fatal, so I’m sure it’ll be back.”
“It must have something to do with the break-in at the vault,” Derek replied, rubbing the beard on his face.
“Obviously.” His nephew wasn’t a stupid man. He was a bit of a hothead and as an alpha had wanted to act rather than wait for information like Peter would, but he wasn’t stupid. “Something is out to destroy us, either just you and me, though possibly Malia and Cora, or it might involve Scott and his friends. It seems though the Hales are the target right now.”
The thought of Cora or his daughter being a target of assassination sent a chill shivering up Peter’s spine. Well, that wasn’t going to happen and if he had to, he’d make Malia and Derek, stay at his place for protection for the foreseeable future. The loft was too easy, as had been proven time and again, to access for beings with nefarious purposes.
“Call and make sure Cora is protected. I don’t know if we’re just the target or if it extends to what’s left of the family. She needs to be on guard and her pack in Columbia should be aware of the threat.”
“I will,” Derek agreed. “In the meantime, what do you think we should do?”
It was the first time since before the fire, Derek actually had asked his opinion without a wariness in his tone. Peter, thought for a moment. The teens would need to be made aware of the danger, particularly Malia, and in turn Stiles since she seemed to spend a lot of time with the boy. And in that case, another adult working on the problem wouldn’t be a bad idea.
“I think we should take this to the Sheriff. He might be able to look into that device,” he gave another wave to the detritus on the floor, “better than we can. I just had a lovely long talk with him on Sunday, so I think I’m in his good books at the moment.”
“What?” Derek’s shock was mitigated somewhat by his furrowed brows.
“Oh, he stopped by my place on Sunday to have a chat about my ‘intentions.’” Peter paused to give air quotes. He was feeling much to chipper at having his strength back not to. “Toward his son and the others, so I went over a few things with him.”
“Over a few things?”
Peter rolled his read on the arm of the sofa to take in Derek’s deer in headlights face. It wasn’t a good look for his nephew. Definitely, not in keeping with his intelligence or previously, his fury at Peter’s past actions.
“You know, it’d probably be best not to keep repeating me. Confusion is not a good look on you.”
“Peter,” Derek growled. “What did you tell him?”
“Fine!” He huffed and sat up to face his nephew. “I told him the truth that werewolves need a pack to survive and that I intended to build one. I verified our dear Dr. Deaton is a threat and that Scott, regardless of his alpha power is too young and inexperienced to be a proper leader. I answered many questions he had about the goings-on lately and how they relate to his son and his son’s friends. That’s the summary. I’m sure he’ll seek you out at some point to verify things.”
“You really think you can build a pack, even without an alpha?” Derek asked after a long moment of silence.
“I’m certainly going to try. We need to Derek, you more than anyone knows that.”
“I spoke for a long time with Stiles on Saturday, about our family, our history, and the need for pack bonds. He doesn’t have a bond with Scott or the others, at all.”
“It’s dangerous for him not to have them,” Peter replied. “If he wasn’t at all involved, it wouldn’t be an issue, but he is, Lydia is, and they need that protection.”
“I wasn’t able to forge pack bonds with Erica, Boyd, and Issac,” Derek murmured.
The pain of that failure was plain on his nephew’s face.
“There wasn’t time, Derek and you weren’t in a good enough frame of mind or confident in your position as Alpha to have them trust you enough to allow bonds to grow between you. The fault of what happened is with me. You weren’t ready.”
“Why? You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“I didn’t know you were still alive after the fire. I felt our bond break and Laura had told me you were dead. I believed her until you killed her and found out the truth of what she did to you, to us.”
Peter’s eyes closed, the pain of that knowledge heavy in his chest. He’d hoped Derek hadn’t figured it out. He’d never said anything at the time when he’d confronted Peter in the hospital. Peter had just assumed, Derek had known he was still alive and was too young to argue with his Alpha. He’d never wanted him to find out what Laura had done. She was his sister, his Alpha, and that betrayal was something he’d never wanted Derek to know or understand.
“You know the bond was broken on purpose, then?”
“Yes, I know. I don’t understand why she did it, though.”
“I don’t think we’ll ever know, Derek. She was young, too young to have the alpha power. And you both were traumatized from our family dying. It’s not an excuse but it could be an explanation for her actions.”
“She left you there for six years, Peter! I could understand maybe staying away for a year or two, but not six. She also broke Cora’s bond. She was only eleven. She must have known Cora was alive and she did nothing. Nothing!”
Peter rubbed his hands over his eyes. The anguish in Derek’s voice was intolerable. Peter was an arrogant, manipulative, self-center asshat. He knew it and embraced that part of himself. But, he would never have done what Laura did after the fire in her place. It seemed as if Derek, with the distance of a year, was coming to that conclusion, as well.
“You didn’t know it was her, did you.” It wasn’t a question, Derek already knew.
Peter breathed through his fingers and stood up. His hands limp at his side, he said the only thing he could, the truth. “No.”
Avoiding Derek’s gaze, he moved toward the windows behind the table. His nose wrinkled a bit, the stench of The Mute was still in the air. The creature must have been in the loft for several hours, the smell of it was everywhere hovering tart in Peter’s nose.
Reaching up to unlatch one of the large glass panes, he said, “It stinks in here.”
“What are you talking about?” Derek’s voice reached him from behind.
“You can’t smell it?” Peter turned, Derek’s nostrils were flaring.
Breathing deep, Derek scowled. “No, I can’t smell anything.”
The loft was saturated in The Mute’s sent. A human wouldn’t have noticed it, but a werewolf definitely should’ve. Peter, frowned turning back to the windows. The change in Derek from Kate’s magic was progressing.
Soft footfalls came up behind him. Derek’s solid presence joined him at the window, opening the next windowpane allowing the cold January air to flow into the space. It’d probably take all day with the windows open for the stench to dissipate. If it didn’t, Peter was going to take some cleaning products to the surfaces. The smell was rank, though, it was a good thing to have a warning of the creature’s presence, Peter mused.
“My power is leaving, bit by bit,” Derek murmured. “Maybe she’s turning me into fully human.”
Peter scoffed. “You’re a wolf, Derek, you’ll always be a wolf. I haven’t figured out what she did, but it’s not that.”
Derek’s gaze was morose taking in the skyline of Beacon Hills. “Have you found anything?”
“Not much, yet. I did come across a transformation spell performed by Naugualli’s when they wish to permanently shift into a jaguar. It’s rare, but if they want to be free from being human, the lore indicates it can be done. Since it’s lore, I’m not sure of its truth in practice. It’ll take some time for me to find a reputable Nagual in Mexico to talk to.”
“Hard to find?” Derek asked.
“Yes, it depends upon the community, if a Nagual is in hiding. Sometimes they’re part of the religious practices, a brujo for the village. In other areas, it’s dangerous to be labeled as a Nagual, since they’re seen as demons with their unique connections to berserkers. I’ll keep looking, though.”
“I don’t know how I’ll be able to help, if I don’t have my power, Peter.”
Peter took in Derek’s handsome profile, so much like his mother’s, beautiful. “If I can come back from being dead, whatever’s happening with you will eventually sort itself out. Trust me on that. In the meantime, you might want to think about learning to use a weapon.”
“I don’t like guns,” Derek said, a matter of fact.
“Well, neither do I, but needs must. I’m sure Sheriff Stilinski could teach you or you could take lessons at the range in town.”
“I’ll look into it.”
“Good.” At least if Derek had some sort of protection in the meantime until they figured out what was going on with the wolf inside, it would ease Peter’s worry somewhat. They had an assassin to deal with and each of them being alone wasn’t a good idea.
Peter hesitated. “I think you should stay with me for the time being.” Derek raised a brow. “The loft has been proven to be detrimental for your health.”
“And with an assassin after us, you want to stick together.”
“Precisely,” Peter replied, keeping his gaze on the skyline to the woods surrounding Beacon Hills beyond.
His breath hitched at the soft squeeze of Derek’s hand on his shoulder. It was the first time since before the fire Derek had touched him by his own choice. Peter was pulled to face his nephew, looking up the few inches Derek had on him and into his green eyes. Peter saw a softness there that he’d not seen directed at him in years.
Derek pulled him in, wrapping his arms around Peter. The gentle pressure of Derek’s cheek against his own, scenting brought the wolf inside rumbling a soothing growl in response. Peter scented Derek in return, the softness of his nephew’s beard, the familiar woodsy scent of him, made his eyes close. He focused on the space of pack in his heart and relaxed into the strong arms around him.
Seeking, hoping, Peter reached out with his mind and wolf. He found the golden familial bond that was Derek hovering softly between them in his mind’s eye. Reaching out hesitantly with his whole being, just a brush of the bond suddenly spiraled into a strong metaphysical link between them. It burrowed through the emptiness of pack, filling it with soft warm light.
The bond wasn’t as powerful without an alpha to forge and anchor it but it was solid.
He could feel Derek’s love and guilt for him through the bond.
Peter’s knees buckled at the same time as Derek’s and they sank slowly to the floor, just holding each other. Peter buried his face in Derek’s neck the burn of tears seeping down his cheeks helping to mark his nephew further with Peter’s scent.
They were family again, pack.
Stiles watched Scott wrinkle his nose at the stench of the locker room. If he could smell the BO as a human, he figured it had to be twenty times worse for a werewolf’s nose.
“What is it?” Stiles asked, pulling on his sneaker.
“I can hear Coach ranting from his office,” Scott replied, his guilt at hurting their new freshman teammate was evident in the slump of his shoulders. The kid was being taken to the hospital and from the looks of things in the nurse’s office, he’d broken his foot. Stiles felt slightly guilty about it, but only slightly. He had more important things on his mind than the new competition in lacrosse. Of course, he sucked at it, so it wasn’t like the kid would affect his standing on the team.
“Seriously, Scott.” He finished tying his shoelaces and rummaged around his locker for the deodorant. “He’d have been dead on the field if you’d used an ounce of your wolfiness. It was just a bad landing and it could have happened to anyone. Try not to wallow, okay? There are other things more important.”
Scott didn’t answer just finished putting his equipment back in his bag. They waited until the last player left and Scott nodded that there was no one near to overhear.
“What’s up?” he asked, sitting on a bench.
Stiles’ gut tightened. He didn’t like the feeling of trepidation when it came to talking with Scott. It had been occurring more frequently, lately. He wasn’t used to the discomfort when it came to his best friend.
“I just wanted to let you know I talked to Derek on Saturday about Malia, and some other werewolf related things.” Malia’s situation was less of an issue than the other topics Stiles needed to discuss. He’d never been a procrastinator per se except when it came to things he didn’t really want to talk about.
“I thought you didn’t want to tell her,” Scott said, zipping his bag closed.
“I didn’t, but she needs to know. She’s going to find out eventually and it’s better we tell her now than later.”
Scott nodded. “You’re probably right. When do you want to tell her?”
Scott’s acceptance flummoxed him for a second. “Umm… I was going to take her to meet with Derek and Peter sometime this week.” Stiles fiddled with a loose thread on his jeans. “You know, just bite the bullet.”
“I just hope he doesn’t get his claws to far into her, you know?” Scott said. There was a bit of a growl in his voice that made Stiles looked up. He was flexing his hands as if his claws wanted to pop out. “She’s really impressionable.”
Stiles didn’t agree. Granted Malia was quite innocent in the ways of the world, but she wasn’t stupid and had finely honed instincts. He didn’t know what she would do if anything about Peter being her dad. It might be she would want nothing to do with him. She already had a dad who loved her in her adoptive father.
“We’ll just keep an eye on it,” Stiles said quietly, which was true anyway. He was inclined to start trusting Peter at this point, but only to a point until the man proved otherwise.
“Good, that it?” Scott stood shifting to shoulder his bag. “I need to talk to Kira about that stupid kiss and then I want to check on Liam at the hospital.”
Stiles hesitated, still sitting on the bench. “Well, I did want to talk to you about something Derek said…” Trailed off, seeing Scott so anxious to leave he couldn’t ask about pack bonds. He just couldn’t. “Do you still feel that darkness from the sacrifice?”
Scott’s brow furrowed. “No, actually I haven’t felt it for a while. Do you still feel it?”
“Yeah, I do. It’s kind of always there, you know?” Stiles said, wondering why Scott didn’t feel it. “When did it go away? I thought Deaton said it would always be there but it would be great if it eventually goes away. I sometimes find it distracting.” He was completely fibbing and hoped Scott wasn’t concentrating on his heartbeat to catch him in the lie.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you still felt it. Is it really bad?” The concern on Scott’s face for him eased the weight in his chest a bit. “I can talk to him about it if you like.” Scott paused obviously thinking. “I think it finally went away when I found a new anchor.”
“You didn’t tell me you’d gotten a new one! When, who? Or is it a thing?”
Scott’s lips twitched at Stiles’ question vomit. “My mom said to be my own anchor, but that wasn’t cutting it. I was having trouble finding a new one and my control was a little off. I thought my mom would work. I talked to Deaton about it and he helped anchor me. I think it has something to do with him being a Druid. Since then, I haven’t felt the darkness, like at all. It was such a relief, dude.”
Deaton, not Scott’s mom, was his anchor. Stiles didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what he could say. Scott trusted Deaton implicitly and would protest any suspicion place on the man, even coming from Stiles. Fuck.
“I—” Stiles fumbled with his phone a bit relieved the ringing had kept him from blurting out something stupid. “It’s Derek. Hey, what’s up?”
“Are you able to talk?”
“Yeah, it’s just me and Scott,” Stiles replied. Scott’s head was cocked, listening.
“Peter was attacked this morning, can—.”
“What! Is he okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine, just listen. Can you get the others and come to the loft?”
Scott was already pulling out his phone, as Stiles replied, “Yeah, we’ll be there in like thirty.”
“Okay.” Derek hung up.
“I’ll meet you over there with Kira,” Scott said, texting furiously.
“Alright, I’ll grab Malia and Lydia.”
Malia took after his sister, Amelia, athletic, tall, with a regal bearing that was unconscious. She was intense and pragmatic like his human sister had been. Peter was glad that the Hale genes were so strong even in the face of Malia’s coyote blood.
There were probably elements of her biological mother in her that he had yet to see, ruthlessness being one. Peter could only think of one werecoyote he’d had contact with as a teenager and even though he couldn’t remember Malia, he understood Talia’s need to protect the baby that was born from her mother. He could only think, he must have kicked up such a fuss that Talia had had no choice but to take away his memories of his daughter.
While he could understand it, he had yet to accept what his sister had done. She’d stolen his baby and without Lydia’s assistance, he’d have never known. He must have only been seventeen when Malia was born and not father material but his parents would have helped. At the time he must have thought the pack could protect his child from the Desert Wolf.
Looking back, it had been an illusion. Malia would have died with the rest if Talia had allowed him to keep her.
Pragmatic and intense, his daughter was sitting on the sofa a few feet away from the chair he’d commandeered for the meeting. They’d been having a staring contest for the last five minutes as the meeting finished and Scott and Kira had left.
Stiles, Lydia, and Malia had lingered, which was fine with Peter. They were the ones he wanted in his pack, though he supposed Kira wouldn’t be a bad option either. Peter did find her sweetness a bit tiresome to be honest, though if she became part of the pack, he’d get used to it.
With the warmth of the bond in his chest and mind, he’d forgone his usual lurking on the stairs. Peter was no longer a true omega wolf, not with the bond between him and Derek pulsing softly, soothingly. He’d been unable to keep the smirk off his face at Scott wrinkling his nose at Derek with Peter’s scent all over his nephew. The boy alpha hadn’t mentioned it and they’d both agreed throughout their talk that day that Scott didn’t need to know. Not with how close he was to Alan Deaton.
It was a concern if Deaton found out. The combined scent meant pack and the druid knew this. With what had happened to his family, he hoped Scott was self-centered and oblivious enough on the ways of werewolves not to mention it to his mentor.
Malia lost their staring contest with a growl when Lydia sat down next to her.
His daughter was a fierce feral thing. He liked it.
“Peter,” Lydia stated, elegantly crossing her legs. Another female of regal bearing in their little group. A fierce but controlled young lady who knew what she wanted. She was much like him and Stiles with her intelligence and drive to go after what she wanted.
His brow rose a bit at the cadence of determination in just his name on her lips. Yes, he liked Lydia too.
Malia was looking between the two of them, confusion and frustration at the undertones between them evident. His little girl would learn to better read people and situations. It would just take time.
She looked like she was going to growl again when Lydia said. “Cards on the table?”
“If it pleases you,” he replied, he had to deflect a little bit or he wouldn’t be himself, he thought.
Lydia with the endless patience of one who dealt with plebeians on a regular basis forged onward. “So we know something is going on, brewing here but we don’t know who the targets are beside you and Derek. Correct?”
“Yes,” he said, drawing out the word enough to get a menacing growl out of Malia.
“Would you be willing to mentor, me, Stiles, and Malia? We want to learn, we want to be able to protect ourselves, and you’re the only choice at this point. Name your price.”
“If I didn’t name a price would you trust me?” Peter asked he was truly curious about where Lydia stood with him. She’d helped him and cared for him, yet until now, she’d not sought him out for payment.
“You always want something, Peter. What is it so we can get it out of the way.”
“I think I owe you enough not to ask for anything, don’t you?”
Her green eyes were shrewd taking him in. Peter didn’t even try to radiate innocence. He knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere with Lydia Martin, much like it wouldn’t convince Stiles of anything either. They were both so smart, so worthy of being pack, and they knew who and what he was. A predator, who’d loved his family and sought to avenge them. A selfish man who went after what he wanted and didn’t allow anything or anyone to stand in his way.
“What are you guys talking about?” Malia burst out on the edge of her seat ready to spring up and… oh, she’d already popped claws. Derek was going to need a new sofa.
“I’ll fill you in later on our history,” Lydia said, placing a hand on Malia’s arm. It seemed to relax her enough to let go of her death grip on Derek’s cushions. “I would like to think that but I know you, Peter. You always have an agenda. What is it this time?”
“Well, for now, it’s keeping myself and Derek safe and by extension you and the others.”
Lydia sat back with a frustrated huff.
“To do that,” Peter continued, enjoying her irritation with him a bit. “You need to learn to control your gifts. You’d be a formidable force if you can learn to hone and control your power as a banshee. So, yes, I’m willing to teach you what I know. I also have some books that might be of use to you.”
“Is he always this much of an ass?” Malia asked.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Lydia replied, “though he’s less of an unhinged ass than he was a year ago.”
Peter couldn’t stop the grin at Lydia’s commentary. It was smug, he knew and if he wasn’t careful, he’d get some form of comeuppance eventually from her.
“Is that a good thing?” Malia asked.
“My dear, coyote, of course, it is,” Peter replied. “I’m less likely to rip anyone’s throat out. Well, anyone, I like anyway.”
“Oh my god, don’t get her riled up, Peter!” Stiles exclaimed coming in from the balcony with Derek. “You’re such an ass.”
“Yeah, that’s what Lydia said,” Malia replied, with a wave.
Stiles was shaking his head at the three of them with Derek behind trying to hide a smile under his hand. Stiles looked exhausted with dark bruises under his eyes. Probably not sleeping, Peter guessed. It was a concern and Derek had been hovering over Stiles the whole evening with worried eyebrow speak at Peter about the boy’s state.
Stiles was strong though. Peter knew whatever was bothering him would reveal itself in time. He’d survived a possession by a Nogitsune and that was no small feat especially since Stiles was human. Between him and Derek, they’d keep an eye on the boy. An eye on all three of them, actually.
Stiles took a seat next to Malia and now he had the full attention of all three of them.
“So, you gonna teach us or what?” Stiles asked, emphasizing the question with, if Peter recalled correctly, as his jazz hands. It was more flapping in Peter’s view than anything jazzy or otherwise.
Peter leaned forward. Derek gave him a nod still standing beside the coffee table, looming as usual. “Yes, I will, but you must promise that anything I teach you, you keep to yourselves. Knowledge is power and can be used against you by your enemies. No telling Scott or anyone else, got it?”
“Is Scott really our enemy?” Lydia asked.
Peter opened his mouth to reply, but Stiles beat him to it. “Deaton is Scott’s anchor.”
The silence was almost like a thick fog in the are between them.
“That is… alarming,” Peter murmured, sitting back in his seat. It was certainly a surprise, though perhaps with Deaton’s influence on the boy, shouldn’t have been.
“Yeah,” Stiles said. “I love Scott and want to trust him, but Deaton’s got his hooks into him so deep, I agree with Peter, we need to keep him out of the loop. At least now he knows to stick together with Kira for the time being.”
“He should be able to protect himself with the alpha power he has,” Derek said. “And we can all keep an eye on him too. We don’t know who sent the assassin and it just might be me and Peter on his list, but until we know more we all can’t be on our own.”
“We’ll keep anything you teach us, just between us,” Lydia said. “We promise, right?” She looked to the others and received a nod from Stiles and an affirmative grunt from Malia.
“Meet at my place on Saturday morning. I’ll text you all the address—.”
“Not too early, dude! It’s the full moon on Friday and we’ll be dealing with Malia and her coyote control most of the night,” Stiles said, leaning away from being on the receiving end of growling from Malia.
“In the meant time, stick together,” Peter said, ignoring the interruption. “Derek and I are going to take the Mute’s equipment to the Sheriff and see what information we can get from it.”
“He’s dealing with a pile-up on the highway at the moment, so he might not be able to meet with you guys for a day or so,” Stiles replied, “Malia and Lydia are gonna sleepover at my place the rest of the week.”
“I’ll be staying with Peter,” Derek said. “Call if you need anything or if you notice anything out of the ordinary over the next few days. I doubt the assassin would attempt anything while you’re all in school, but be careful.”
“We need regular check-ins from you all throughout the day,” Peter said. “Don’t go anywhere on your own.”
Malia’s claws had popped again. Peter was sure she was used to being quite independent and alone. It would take some adjustment on her part to keep her need to explore singularly at bay. He hoped they’d resolve the situation quickly. He’d just like some time to breathe and get to know his daughter, teach the others, forge bonds and gather together the new Hale Pack.
Looking over the group of smart, and determined young people in front of him, Peter could see the future possibilities with a pack and bonds between them. They’d be strong enough together to stabilize the territory and protect it. To have a normal life with pack and companionship.
All this distraction and danger wasn’t going to allow that to happen.
Peter wasn’t going to let this latest threat stop him, though, and tracking the money to the source was the key.