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Chapter 8

"The prodigal nephew returns," Peter greeted, leaning against the door jamb to the family room. Derek pushed past him into the room and began pacing the floor in front of the fireplace. "Whose intoxicating scent are you wearing?" Peter asked, stepping into Derek's path and inhaling deeply as he leaned in closer. "Is that blood, I smell?" Peter arched his brow and studied his nephew.

Derek moved away from his uncle, cursing himself for letting the older werewolf get Becca's scent. If Peter knew who she was he would be a danger to her too. "Any news about the Alpha pack?" Derek asked, hoping to move the conversation away from Becca.

"I think we both know there is a more immediate threat."

Derek eyed his uncle for a moment, trying to read his expression. Did he know about the other wolf? Had he sensed it?

"Do you think it's a coincidence that the Brethren comes to town when the Argents are regrouping after the whole Gerard debacle?" Peter dropped lazily into the armchair. "It has to be some kind of power play."

"Power play?"

"Even the good guys have differences of opinion on how to deal with the likes of us." Peter's penetrating gaze met his and Derek forced his face to remain neutral. "The Argents have a code – not that Gerard or his daughter ever followed it – but they only kill those of us that are a threat."

"And the Brethren?"

"They don't see shades of grey. Things are black and white for them. Good or bad. They think they're doing God's work." Peter sprang from his seat and moved to stand in front of Derek. "You stay clear of them," Peter ordered. Derek thought he saw concern in his uncle's eyes again. Was he really worried? Part of Derek reasoned that he was all Peter had left. But the other part reminded him that Peter was a very skilled actor and had put him in harm's way more than once in the name of vengeance.

Derek stepped away from his uncle and moved to the window, surveying the darkness outside. Though Peter may have lied to him almost constantly since his return first from his catatonic state and then from the dead, Derek couldn't bring himself to lie to him. "So, there's been no sign of the Alphas?" He turned back to Peter when he didn't immediately answer. "Well?" The older werewolf didn't meet his gaze, looking like he was weighing his options and Derek knew Peter was keeping something from him. A growl rumbled in his throat and stalked to his uncle, standing toe to toe with him. "What aren't you telling me?"

"I caught a scent," Peter replied with a shrug. "It was a lone wolf."

"How can you be sure?"

"Well, I only picked up the one scent." Peter rolled his eyes and added in a sarcastic tone, "Unless the Alpha pack has found a way for them to all have the same scent."

"But how can we be sure this lone wolf isn't part of the pack?"

"Fine, maybe he's a scout, maybe he's a lone wolf, maybe he's little red riding hood." Peter shook his head. "Does it really matter? If he's a lone wolf, the hunters will get him, they always do. And if he's a scout, he'll tell the Alpha pack this place is swimming with hunters. If they have half a brain between them they'll keep their distance."

Derek nodded at his uncle's affirmation. It made sense for the Alphas to keep their distance. But he knew the scent Peter caught was the wolf that had attacked Becca. It was too much of a coincidence not to be. Derek headed upstairs and packed a bag.

"Where ya goin'?" Peter asked when he returned to the main floor.

"Taking your advice," Derek replied, his hand on the door knob. "I'm going to lay low." It wasn't a total lie, Derek reasoned. The Argents would never think to look for him at Rowan's and as far as Derek knew, there were no other Brethren members in Beacon Hill.

"Who is she?"

"Who?" Derek asked, turning his stoic gaze to his uncle all the while berating himself.

"Her scent is all over you, Derek." Peter moved to lean against the wall beside the door. "You don't want to get between another wolf and his prey," he warned.

"I have to go," Derek mumbled, staring down at the door. "You should consider leaving town for a while, too. Until this hunter feud blows over."

Pulling up to the house, Derek closed his eyes and listened. He could hear Becca's slow and even breaths, her heartbeat sluggish but calm. She was asleep. He turned his attention to the sounds outside the house, listening for anything out of place, but heard nothing out of the ordinary.

He stepped out of his Camaro, quietly shutting the door and listening some more. The sounds of animals wandering the woods merged with the rustling of leaves and creaking of tree branches as the breeze picked up. He breathed it in, searching for the scent he'd committed to memory. Nothing. Yet he only knew the werewolf's scent in his animal form, if he'd shifted to his human countenance he would have a different scent.

He moved around the grounds, following the protective wall around the side of the house. He knew Rowan had designed it to keep Becca safe within, but Derek wondered if it was fool proof. When the gate was open and the circuit broken, could someone or something get over the wall? As he moved along the back wall he looked up at the house. Becca's light was still on. Had she fallen asleep in the armchair where he'd left her?

The wind picked up, pulling Derek's attention from the house back out to the forest beyond the wall. His gaze searched the woods. Still nothing. He was sure he'd caught the wolf's scent, but it was gone again. He moved to the side of the house, climbing the vine covered lattice work to the small ledge above Becca's window.

From his perch, Derek had a clearer view of the forest beyond the wall. He surveyed the trees, ready to climb back down, when he caught a glimpse of glowing red eyes. The wolf had a direct view of Becca's window. Had Becca seen it out there watching her as she stared out the window the other night?

"Leave," Derek growled, his gaze never wavering from those feral eyes. "Leave now before you make this personal."

The wolf snarled, teeth gleaming white against the darkness of the woods around it. "What is her life worth?" the gravelly voice asked. "Is protecting her worth the life of someone you care about?"

"You don't want to make this personal," Derek gritted through clenched teeth, struggling to reign in his anger. If the wolf didn't know about Derek's dual nature he wasn't going to let on just yet.

"She murdered my mate, she deserves to suffer. All that remains to decide is if you need suffer with her." Derek watched the wolf recede into the darkness. He stayed perched above Becca's window until he could no longer detect the wolf's scent or it's movements in the woods beyond the wall.

Derek walked around to the front of the house, Peter and the wolf's words circling his mind. Was he really protecting a hunter? If Becca knew what he was would she kill him for it? Part of him believed she would, without a second thought. But her words about monsters being heroes made him wonder if things were so black and white to her as they were to the Brethren members she was associated with.