Derek was furious. There was no other word for it. Right there sitting in a box on his living room table was a severed finger, the middle finger to be exact which he knew better than to think that fact was anything but completely purposeful. This was a message, and the message was fuck you Hale I can do this without you or your pack. It was insulting and impressive, but it made him worry. If they had sent him the middle finger, then what did they send to the Burnland pack's Alpha because there was no doubt in Derek's mind that he had received a similar if not more in depth message from the two renegades from the Hale territory.
Punching the already blown out brick wall that had originally been meant to separate the living room and kitchen, but served no purpose now really what with the hole large enough to fit an elephant through, Derek seethed silently as he did best. The rest of the pack stood around the box varying expressions of shock on each of their faces, except for Lydia and Allison. Both girls stood behind the Alpha arms crossed over their chests waiting for him to acknowledge their presence. "What?! What do you two want now, huh?" Lydia rolled her eyes while Allison stood a little straighter moving more into the hunter mind frame that she had been taught.
"What we want Alpha Hale is a plan of attack. What is it that you intend to do about this because actions such as these can not go unchecked?" With red eyes Derek slowly turned to face Allison who sounded just a little too much like her Aunt Kate just then, which even on a good day put Derek on edge, but now it made his skin crawl and his instincts run wild. "Do not speak to me like that little hunter, it is not your place." Allison remained quiet with a raised brow as Lydia took over hassling their Alpha for answers. "Derek, we can't let this continue. Even if we claim that they have gone omega we risk an all out war with the Burnland pack, and we will lose. There is no question about that."
Scott was horrified by the visual evidence of things that his best friend had done, things that the boy had never thought his friend to be capable of doing. It would seem that he was very wrong about what Stiles would and would not do which caused a deep sadness to take root in the young wolf's heart. "Maybe Stiles wants that. Maybe he's punishing us for his dad's death." Isaac looked frightened by the idea eyes darting from person to person looking for someone to dispute Scott's words, while Erica curled further into Boyd's grip. Surprisingly it was Boyd who spoke out, the usually silent wolf simply stated, "No matter how angry Stiles may be he would never do that. He is just showing us proof that he doesn't need our help to get the revenge he seeks. He would never let the Burnland pack punish us for his actions and you all know it. We are the one's who failed him, not the other way around."
With Erica's face pressed into his chest to obscure her view Boyd walked from the room without so much as another word the sound of the door closing the only sign that they had left the loft. Derek punched the wall again at the truth to his beta's words. Stiles would never let anyone else suffer because of his decisions, he would take full responsibility which worried him almost as much as having a pack like Burnland after his little rag tag team of teenagers. That pack would tear Stiles apart, especially after what he'd just done by sending those boxes. Part of him really wanted to run after the teen and either drag him back home kicking and screaming, or join him in making those who had wronged his pack pay in the most brutal and bloody way. He couldn't though, he had to think of the rest of his pack, what would happen if he failed. They would be without an Alpha, a teacher, a protector against everything else that went bump in the night. He couldn't risk losing just for Stiles, no matter how much he wanted to.
Peter had to hand it to the boy, he could be brutal. Sending the middle finger back to Beacon Hills while sending the head to the Burnland Alpha, now that took some guts. He loved this side of the boy, all hard edges and clipped words. It was a totally different version of the boy than he was used to but it still managed to be completely Stiles. He still made jokes, used sarcasm, flailed about but it was with a harsh edge of got the answers the boy was looking for after a while. Peter stopped keeping track after somewhere near the thirtieth hour. While that particular wolf had not been involved in the death of the Sheriff he had killed innocent people and Stiles was in no mood to dole out any form of mercy beyond beheading the poor bastard once he had all the information he was going to get from that wolf.
After killing the wolf, which Stiles refused to learn the name of he went off on his own for a few hours. He came back smelling of cheap whiskey, blood, and ink. The next day Peter saw the bandage covering where the scent of ink was coming from, no doubt a tattoo. Though Stiles refused to show the older wolf no matter how much he pushed.
Eventually Peter let it go, after all it wasn't as if they weren't going to be spending most of their time together. He was patient enough to wait to catch a glimpse of the mystery mark, and eventually he would find out what it was. Now, however they had another wolf to find and trap.
No doubt they would be more careful now, but between Stiles and Peter they never stood a chance at avoiding the trap.