Luke drums his fingers on the round table of the tiny office, on loan by Forks finest. The woodsy green walls bleed into old oak framing, complete with cream linoleum floors and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Everything screams small town Sheriff's office.

Emily Prentiss, current unit Chief of the BAU, stands at the head of the room next to a whiteboard. Her straight dark hair swishes around her shoulders as she paces the floor, tapping a thick marker against her chin. "It has to be a pack. No single Unsub could've exerted this much control over so many people."

"A pack?" Charlie asks, setting his coffee down on the table. He looks over the group in question, his thick moustache turning down.

It's Dr Spencer Reid who answers, the thin boyish-looking man beaming with excitement to explain. Even with an IQ of 187 he is nothing but nervous ticks, ruddy pink cheeks and messy hair. "Three or more that kill in unison. As in nature, the group dynamic dictates the pack's survival and is dependent on their ability to hunt successfully."

"And as in nature, a pack will keep on killing until it runs out of prey or is stopped." Prentiss sighs as she picks up an iPad, sliding through photos of the multitude of victims thanks to Garcia. The photos of the dead sweep past; both genders, all races, all ages. Barely enough for a Victimology.

"Stopped by what?" Charlie exclaims, his fingers tightening on the mug.

Luke rubs a hand over his neck, letting out a sigh. "A stronger pack."

The silence is palpable.

"We had a similar case in Terra Mesa, New Mexico. Five dead, all from Mesa University. No signs of sexual assault, and no sign of theft." Dr Reid says, breaking the silence as he continues to mark a map of the Olympic Peninsular and East Coast. Red lines intertwine with blue, tracing patterns which are naked to the eye of most, except him.

"But these marks weren't on those bodies." Luke adds, sliding a photo of one of the latest victims, throat ripped out, between the Chief and the Boy-Genius.

"No. But we worked closely with a local Apache tribe on the case in New Mexico. The torture and mutilation seen on the victims were very confused imitations of warfare's practiced by Native American tribes. These ones aren't. These are frenzy attacks."

The mere statement has Luke reeling back to thoughts of Leah and the empty bed she'd left behind the night before. He'd spent the best part of an hour outside with Roxy, calling her name and tramping through the dense forest around the cabin. Even the loyal German shepherd had great difficulty tracking her scent past the porch steps.

"I don't think the Quileute Tribe would know anything about this." Charlie replies sternly, his eyes flashing in offence.

Reid looks thoughtfully at the Chief. "Probably not. But the path these Unsubs are taking seems to steer clear of the Quileute lands. They may sense a danger to them, and are intentionally not using those lands as hunting grounds."

Something triggers in Luke's memories.

'We all just kind of, fell into a pack, if that makes sense.'

.

Luke drives through Forks, his eyes sweeping the paths and faces that go by. His hands tremble on the steering wheel and he has to take a few breaths to calm himself.

Was Leah involved in this somehow?

He could barely allow the thought to continue before he felt the skin prickle on his neck. He'd been a good judge of people all his life, if she was somehow involved, how could he have missed this? Maybe she knew something? Maybe she was in trouble? Maybe she was protecting those boys from the café? Why had she approached him? Was she trying to throw him off the scent? Had she known he was FBI when he met her near the cabin more than a week ago? Did she sleep with him to gain leverage with him?

He clenches his jaw as he reaches for his phone. Scrolling through the list of contacts he taps the number with more force than necessary and waits for the call to connect.

"Alvez, what is it?"

"I need a warrant. I need to speak to someone on the LaPush Reservation. A girl I met - I think she knows something about why the Unsubs won't hunt on the Reservation."

There's a slight pause. "You don't need a warrant to enter LaPush."

"I'll need to arrest her if she won't talk to me. Can you do it?"

Prentiss sighs. "I know a Federal Court Judge who owes me a favour. Give me an hour."

He snaps his phone shut and takes a sharp left.

.

An: Parts of the dialogue in this chapter are direct lifts from CM - Season 1, Episode 16 - The Tribe. I'm not sure about the legal standings around Reservations in the US and the FBI vs Tribal Policing. For story-telling sake, let's go with this.