Why Have Enemies If You Can't Be Friends

Chris' meeting with Sheriff Stilinski, somehow leads to an abandoned still in the Preserve. Its unknown history might have a big impact on everyone's future.

Chris walked into the Starbucks's not knowing what to expect. The call from Sheriff Stilinski had been unexpected, and because it was unexpected, it had made Victoria wary. Gerard, of course, had tried to get him to move the meeting to some place private, some place they could ambush Stilinski and "put him down". Thankfully, Victoria had kyboshed that suggestion.

When Chris had suggested this Starbucks, Sheriff Stilinski had agreed readily, but they only had the sheriff's word that this was an unofficial meeting and completely off the record. Victoria had gone into redundancy planning—back-ups on the roofs of neighboring buildings, sweeping the location for bugs, doing everything she could think of to make sure it was a trap he would get out of alive.

Stilinski picked the time, which just happened to be during the morning rush so the place was packed. It would be very hard to get a useful recording with all the clacking, banging, and obnoxiously hip music being played just a shade too loud.

Chris looked around the room for the familiar uniform but didn't see it. He checked his watch, confirming that he was fifteen minutes early, as planned. He hadn't really thought he would beat the sheriff here, but that's what it looked like.

His phone buzzed, once, twice, then once again. Victoria's signal that the surroundings were clear of Stilinski's deputies. Chris's shoulders dropped with a release of tension he hadn't even realized he was carrying. The meeting wasn't a trap. The knowledge didn't make him lose all caution, however, and he quickly moved to grab a table at the back.

As soon as he moved past the line-up, Chris saw the sheriff sitting at the table he'd had in mind. Stilinski was in jeans and a T-shirt, and looked nothing like he did when in uniform, which was why Chris hadn't recognized him. In fact, the way he took a bite of his breakfast sandwich, closing his eyes in appreciation, made him look more like an aging surfer dude with the munchies than the head of a police department.

Chris didn't know what it meant that Stilinski was out of uniform, but he was sure it meant something.

He went over to meet with the man. "Sheriff," Chris said cautiously.

"Call me Noah," the sheriff said. "Like I said, this is unofficial."

Chris acknowledged the correction without actually believing it. "You know it's not a good idea for us to meet considering Kate," Chris pointed out even as he took a seat to the side of the sheriff, rather than across. It wasn't as good as being able to see the whole room, but it was still better than having his back to the crowd.

"And, like I said on the phone, this has nothing to do with Kate's arrest or the Hales." Stilinski gave a little frown. "It's not got anything directly to do with the Hales. I don't think."

Chris raised his eyebrows. As far as he knew, he and the sheriff had nothing in common but Kate's trial and the Hales.

"Derek Hale found something on one of the properties his family owned," the sheriff said.

"Something?" Chris asked, voice neutral.

"A swirl made by a clawed hand, cut into the side of an old distillery next to the Preserve," Stilinski said. "It concerned him enough that he called me out to look at it.

"A swirl?" Chris asked. "An S, a circle, or something else?"

"An unfinished circle, cut with three claws."

"Declaration of revenge," Chris stated.

Stilinski nodded, posture easy and open. "That's what Derek said."

At the mention of the last Hale, Chris tensed. "I didn't make it." His voice was soft but firm, even as his hand drifted to his new silver-inlaid knife. Public place or not, he would defend himself.

Stilinski nodded again, still unconcerned. "Unless you have claws I know nothing about, you're in the clear. No," he went on. "Derek suggested a different suspect, and certain other events indicate he might be correct. Apparently, there's a group of alphas hanging around—"

"The Alpha Pack is here?" Chris's adrenaline spiked. The Alpha Pack! If half what he'd heard about them was true, Beacon Hills was in a lot of trouble. His heart started jumping. He barely resisted turning to search the customers in line.

"They're not in this Starbucks," the sheriff said dryly. "But you know, a pack made up only of alphas seems like some urban legend level of bullshit. I mean, is there an alpha of the alpha pack? And are they called the Alpha's Alpha, because that's an opening for gold medal level mockery. I mean, 'Alpha's Alpha?' Alfalfa."

He smiled, inviting Chris to share his amusement, and Chris lifted his lips briefly in acknowledgement. But he was more concerned with looking for any signs that the sheriff was losing control. After all, it was common knowledge that new Alphas had only shaky control over their shift, and with other Alphas nearby he had to be feeling the pressure.

"Well, whatever," Stilinski took another drink of his coffee, so calm it was unsettling. "From what I've been told, they wouldn't be able to make it this far into town without being noticed."

"From what you've been told?" Chris pounced. If Stilinski had a source of information other than Derek Hale or Alan Deaton, Victoria would want to know about it.

"Essentially, what Derek knows about them which isn't a lot." The sheriff sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know who they are, where they come from, what their capabilities are, or how to stop them if they break the law."

Chris gave a short laugh. "If they break the law."

"If they don't break the law, then they're just citizens passing through."

It was said calmly with no hint of sarcasm or defensiveness, but it made Chris stare at the man. Did Stilinski not understand how the presence of the Alpha Pack was a direct challenge to his authority as the Alpha of Beacon Hills? "They're here to take you down," he pointed out.

Stilinski shook his head. "They're here for revenge, apparently, and I know I'm not their target because I've never met or even heard of any of them before." He stabbed at Chris with his coffee cup. "You, however, know something."

"I've never tangled with the Alpha Pack."

"Never thought you had, but I'm betting you know people who have."

Chris stayed silent. The sheriff sighed and put down his coffee. "I know what a hunter is, Chris," he said. "And I imagine you all think you're White Hats—saving humans from evil, yadda yadda. I'm guessing that means you all share information, maybe even have a website with a forum where you can post questions and get answers."

Chris managed to keep his mouth shut while the sheriff talked. What he was describing… It made sense that it would exist, but it didn't. Hunters guarded their knowledge, usually earned through blood. They kept it within their clan, and only doled it out through the exchange of future favors. There were some families he knew the exchange would be equal, but there were others he wouldn't ask for used gum off the street.

Not that he was going to correct Stilinski's assumptions.

"Is that why I'm here? To give you answers?"

"Like I said before, nobody can tell me anything about them. Who's in the pack or what's the size of it? Are they a threat to civilians, or do they try to keep the muggles out of it?"

It was the first sign that the sheriff considered himself above the species he was no longer a part of. Chris' eyes narrowed. "Muggles?"

Stilinski snorted. "What? You never watched the Harry Potter movies?" He sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. "I had to watch all of them. Then endless debates about motivations and plot gaps and how the movies were different from the books." His wry smile asked for sympathy, but Chris could only blink.

"Anyway," the sheriff continued, after a moment. "It's hard to prepare a response plan when you have no information about what you might be responding to."

Information. The sheriff only wanted information about a pack that threatened not only him, but some unknown target. Or was it unknown?

"Are they going after Derek Hale?" Chris asked. The sheriff lifted his brows asking for clarification. "Rumor is that the Alpha Pack's leader, Deucalion, was injured because of Talia Hale, something she did or didn't do. The details aren't clear. I just know it happened here in Beacon Hills."

"Huh." The sheriff's gaze was distant as he slotted the information into whatever he already knew. Then he shook his head. "It's not Derek. They had a chance to kill him, but didn't."

"Injured though, right?" Chris guessed.

"Is there a reason you're asking that?" Stilinski gave him a flat look. For a moment, Chris was sure the sheriff's eyes flashed red, but no. They were an unchanged pale blue. Either the man had mastered his wolf to an uncanny degree or Derek Hale wasn't one of his betas. Since he'd only been a werewolf for three weeks, Chris was going with the second option.

It was odd, though. Alphas were always expanding their packs. It was a primal instinct for them—grow their pack – gain in power. The best only changed the willing. The worst... Well, that's why there were Hunters. If Derek was injured, it was the perfect time for Stilinski to recruit the born wolf. And there was no reason for Derek to turn down the offer. His injuries would heal better with an acknowledged Alpha and pack.

However, if the sheriff had recruited Derek, he was very calm discussing his possible injuries. His protective instincts should've had him growling at Chris for even mentioning it. Chris put aside the topics of Derek's injury and his possible status within the sheriff's pack to discuss with Victoria later. It was irrelevant to today's meeting.

For now, the Alpha Pack was the concern. They weren't considered a serious threat to humans—they would sometimes go after the family members of packs they'd targeted, and they'd killed the occasional hunter that had gone after them, but most of their violence was directed at other werewolves. Even so, the sheriff was right to prepare a defense plan. When he got home, he and Victoria would be doing the same. Maybe hunting the Alpha Pack would keep Gerard away from them. That would be nice.

"Everything I've heard about the Alpha Pack says they're a threat," Chris answered. "They seem to target a pack and then either attack the pack's Betas to draw out the Alpha, or they destroy the places the pack feels safe—homes, bolt holes, whatever—but they never 'just pass through'."

The sheriff nodded, accepting the statement. "Do they ever target civilians?"

"The family of pack members, yeah," Chris said. "But they don't bite humans to turn them. Some kind of pure blood vs muggle prejudice." He added a wry smile. He, too, had been subjected to endless hours of Harry Potter.

"So they're not some kind of international tribunal that's going to judge whether I'm worthy to be an alpha or not?"

There was a wistful tone to the sheriff's question. It made Chris laugh aloud. "Definitely not," he said, still chuckling.

"Too bad. I always wanted to be The Chosen One."

A cheerful, young Latino in Starbucks gear came to their table to take their garbage and to drop off fresh cups of brewed coffee. "Gracias, Julio," the sheriff said with a smile. "Nada, Sheriff," the employee answered with a smile of his own.

Chris looked down at the coffee then up at the sheriff. Chris knew that both Victoria and Gerard wanted Stilinski out of office, but finding fodder was proving difficult. "I thought free coffee was considered a gratuity?"

"Not if it's the company's refill policy, which it is," the sheriff responded easily. "My staff presented me with the printout from Starbucks' website when they first opened here. I have it bookmarked on my computer, just in case someone complains."

"Cops and coffee," Chris smiled in gentle mockery, hoping to elicit something.

"Coffee and just about everybody in America," Stilinski corrected. "But I will give him a tip for bringing it to our table. That was nice of him."

"Yeah, it was. Why'd he do that?" Chris took a sip of the coffee, keeping his eyes down and hidden.

"His mother's fiancé was turning into something more than a regular asshole to him and his sister, but the mother wouldn't listen. I got it proven in court and the wedding was called off," the sheriff answered easily. "Anyway, back to the Alpha Pack," he said. "I know it has at least four members. Does that match with what you know?"

"Last report I had said six," Chris said. "That was... Eight months ago?"

"Damn," Stilinski muttered. He brought out a notebook. "I have one female: light brown skin, dark brown hair, brown eyes, five eight to five ten in height, early 30s, known as Kali. No visible tattoos goes barefoot and has extremely long toenails." He waved that away. "That's easy to change. Next. Two males, twins. White skin, light brown hair, brown eyes, five ten to six feet in height, late teens to early 20s, names unknown. And then Deucalion—supposedly the leader. Male, white skin, blond hair; wears sunglasses, carries a white cane, so blind. British accent,average height, age unknown, but estimated at 30s to 40s."

Chris blinked. That was more description than his fellow hunters had ever shared. "Why are you telling me this?"

The sheriff frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you sharing information?" Chris made an impatient gesture. "Like we're on the same side."

Stilinski sat back in his chair. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but hunters are in the business of protecting civilians, correct?"

Chris's first instinct was to say that they hunted werewolves and witches and other non-human things, but then he remembered that this was the sheriff he was talking to. The Alpha werewolf sheriff. "You're not wrong."

The sheriff's eyes narrowed as if he sensed the side-step. "Huh." The smile he gave Chris was a lot less open than the ones he'd given before. "Derek said talking to you would be pointless. I'm sorry that he was right." He shut his notebook, and Chris realized that the sheriff was going to leave.

He also realized that he didn't want him to.

Chris put out his hand, holding the sheriff in place. "I didn't say I wouldn't share information with you, just... This this isn't how things are done between—" He waved a hand between them. "Give me a moment to adjust, alright?"

The sheriff settled back into his seat. "Mind blown, huh?"

Chris frowned. "What?"

"It's something my son says when a new fact changes his worldview," the sheriff explained. "He's usually talking about something obscure in fandom, but it works for real life as well."

"I've met Stiles," Chris reminded the sheriff.

Stilinski's smile broadened. "There you go," he shrugged. "So are you willing to tell me what you know about the so-called Alpha Pack?"

"It's not much," Chris warned. "The Alpha Pack is real, but don't ask me how it works. There's a saying I've heard about the leader, Deucalion, that seems apocryphal."

Sheriff Stilinski raised his eyebrows in inquiry.

Chris cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed. "It's said that he's not always blind."

"Mythical crap," the sheriff snorted in disgust.

Despite himself, Chris smiled. "Maybe. Nobody knows. We have some ideas though."

It wasn't how Chris had planned to spend his morning, but he actually felt pretty good by the end of it. The exchange of useful information (rather than the posturing he got from other hunters) energized him, made him remember why the Argents had a Code.

He couldn't relax completely, of course. Both Victoria and Gerard would expect him to gather as much information about Stilinski as he could, but he gave almost as much information as he received. The sheriff asked some pointed questions (and gave him more than a couple disappointed looks that made Chris feel like a naughty teenager).

At the end, when they shook hands like gentlemen, he also felt that, if this level of tenaciousness was what Sheriff Stilinski was like on the job, Victoria and his father were going to have a very hard time getting him out.

-o0o-

Chris was barely in the SUV before his father demanded to know what he'd learned about the sheriff.

"The Alpha Pack is in town," Chris said instead. Gerard might not care, but Victoria would be interested. When Gerard sputtered out a protest, she waved her father-in-law to silence.

"How does Sheriff Stilinski know that?" She'd turned to face Chris in the back seat, so he held out her coffee. She gave him a small smile and accepted it. Chris held out the tray to his father in the driver seat. Gerard frowned disapprovingly, but he still took a cup.

"Kali was spotted," Chris said, tucking the paper tray into the trash bag they always kept in the back. He had to brace himself as his father pulled out of their parking spot with a jerk of acceleration. Behind, them a second black SUV pulled out much more smoothly.

"She confronted him?" Victoria asked.

Chris shook his head. "I think she beat up Derek, and he described her to the sheriff. Right down to her toenails." Victoria hummed acceptance of the explanation. The toenails were distinctive, and not something people thought to lie about. Tattoos, yes. Uncut toenail, not so much.

"It would explain why he hasn't been at his apartment the last couple days," Gerard muttered. He'd placed his coffee in the cup holder, untouched. Typical.

Chris deliberately slurped his own coffee, but he couldn't enjoy it fully because this little confab was going to be nearly as tense as the one he'd had with Stilinski.

"The sheriff said he could confirm Kali and two others," Chris continued. "Twins, in their early 20s or so. They must be new to the Pack."

"Are they planning on recruiting the sheriff?" Victoria asked.

"That would solve the monster problem in Beacon Hills." Again, Gerard muttered his comment just loud enough that it was ignorable.

Victoria's eyelid twitched, but she did, indeed ignore him. "They usually go after werewolves with some unusual quality. Something that makes them unique."

"Yeah, there was that Beta with magical abilities in Idaho, I think," Chris frowned, trying to remember the details. "Didn't the Alpha turn them down, or something? And they killed him for it?" Both Victoria and Gerard mumbled something that could be agreement. None of them had been involved in the case, so they were all relying on rumors and gossip.

They really ought to have a website like the one the sheriff described…

"I don't think they're here to recruit the sheriff," he said.

"Not unique enough?" Victoria asked, one eyebrow raised. She was beautiful. Sleek and deadly, just like his favorite gun.

"The symbol for revenge was cut into a shack on Hale property that Talia Hale used to use for negotiations. You remember it, don't you, Dad?"

Gerard started, pulled from whatever plots he'd been contemplating. "Why would I?"

"Because you were at the last series of truce negotiations Talia Hale ever hosted?"

"That was ten years ago!" Gerard protested.

"Eight," Victoria clarified.

"Still quite a while," Gerard said. "What makes you think I remember some smelly, old still?"

Chris paused. His eyes narrowed. "I didn't say it was a still."

Why was his father denying he remembered the building? Or the talks. The talks had turned into a bloodbath, Chris remembered. It had started with one beta killing hunters and being executed in turn. Then Deucalion had ambushed Gerard and killed a couple of his men. It had ended with a lot of werewolves dead—a couple packs, in fact.

He'd always assumed the Alphas had turned their packs against each other, using the negotiations to grab territory or power. Now he wondered if there was some other motive behind the bloodshed. He also wondered if his father knew more about the conflict than he'd ever told Chris.

"We need to confirm what Stilinski said," he suggested firmly. "Since you obviously remember where the site was, you can drive us there."

He stared at his father half expecting more bullshit lies about not remembering where it was, but Gerard just huffed and turned around to go back to the state highway. Chris waited an extra moment before taking a sip of his coffee in triumph.

"Did the sheriff mention anything else?" Victoria asked. She'd already finished her coffee, drinking it with the same brisk efficiency she did everything. She handed Chris her cup, and he put it in the trash carefully. It gave him a moment to weigh what he wanted to reveal, both in front of his father, but also—weirdly—in front of his wife.

"When he said this was a meeting to exchange information, he meant exactly that," Chris finally said. "He told me about the Alpha Pack–"

"How's he handling having other Alphas in his territory?" Gerard interrupted. "Does he know enough not to, er, fang out in front of the civilians."

"Actually," Chris said slowly. "He handled it really well in front of me. Like, phenomenally well. Said as long as they don't break any laws, he didn't have any problem with them being on his turf."

Gerard snorted out a laugh and Victoria gave him a skeptical look. Chris shrugged. "I think he believes it."

"Well, we'll see how well his 'phenomenal control' holds up when Deucalion confronts him," Gerard sneered.

Again, Chris just shrugged. It wasn't as if he disagreed with his father after all. "I'm just saying, considering it's only been a couple weeks since he was turned and became an Alpha, he seems to be in control of his instincts. We may be underestimating him."

"Nonsense!" his father spat. "Whatever control he has when around humans, he'll lose it completely when faced with another Alpha. They'll challenge and he'll be forced to reveal his true nature. He won't be able to help it."

"He'll lose a fight with any of them—they are younger, stronger, more familiar with their abilities," Victoria cut in. "That would leave a member of the Alpha Pack in Beacon Hills. I'm not comfortable with that."

"Are you saying we should help him?" Gerard's question demanded a negative response.

Victoria (Chris was proud to note) didn't give him one. "At the moment, the Alpha Pack is the more serious threat. Their motives are mostly unknown, there are more of them, and they're mobile," she pointed out. "Sheriff Stilinski, on the other hand, is rooted here. Between his son and his job, it would take an apocalypse for him to leave Beacon Hills."

"And he doesn't really have a pack," Chris tossed in. "From things he said, Derek hasn't accepted him as his Alpha."

Victoria hummed agreement. "So the second beta, whoever he is, would be of no help against the Alpha Pack. We know he's a bitten wolf, and only a couple months old."

"In hiding," Chris added. "Rejecting the change emotionally, if not physically."

"The Alpha Pack might force the boy out in the open," Victoria mused.

"We should focus on the sheriff," Gerard argued. "Before he convinces others to become what he is."

"I don't think the sheriff is going to bite any teenagers. Or any one else, for that matter." Gerard opened his mouth. Chris kept talking. "He'd consider it assault, and therefore, against the law." He paused. "He might do it to save a life, but that's about it."

Victoria had turned to look at him in disbelief. "You believe that?"

Chris looked back at her. "Not really. But he does."

"Interesting," she said with a hum.

"Nonsense!" Gerard barked.

"Quite likely," Victoria agreed. "But it's a weakness, I think. A hero complex."

Gerard looked at her, eyes narrowed in calculation. "Use it against him?"

"Of course," she nodded. "I'll need to figure out how. Until then, keep up the friendly chats you've been having with the county's opinion-makers. I think I'll go speak to his son's principal. Maybe they're hiring."

"You don't want me with you?" Gerard asked.

"No," she replied. "Not just yet. There are two high schools. You may need to go to the other one."

The Argents had adopted the Mather tactic of infiltrating any school they thought a werewolf was attending. It was an efficient tactic because teenagers were often targeted by supernatural creatures. Teenagers usually survived the bite, adapted quickly to and they often volunteered to get turned—mostly because the misleading junk in movies and on TV made being a werewolf look like a disease you could manage rather than an infection with no cure except death.

Chris wasn't normally in favor of any kind of mass censorship or book burnings, but he'd long ago decided he'd make an exception for things like Twilight or that TV show with the southern vampires. Inhuman creatures couldn't live among humans peacefully, not for long anyway. Something would make them snap and normal humans would pay the price.

Which brought Chris's thoughts back to the sheriff—he'd sat so comfortably in a crowded, noisy, smelly, coffee shop for nearly 30 minutes. Nothing in the man's demeanor had even hinted at the werewolf within.

Usually, when an adult was turned, they needed to be surrounded by a large, supportive pack to get any kind of control over their new senses, their new strength and emotions—their claws and fangs. But the only temper Stilinski had shown was when he thought Chris wouldn't help hunt down the Alpha Pack.

Perhaps, Chris thought, Stilinski's history in the armed forces might explain some of his control? Recruits were force-fed discipline and control until it was as easy as fish breathing underwater. Chris didn't know of many vets who'd been turned. Either no alpha wanted them (not unlikely—why invite in a person who would have the fighting skills to topple you?), or the vets had enough sense to say no.

Either way, Chris couldn't know if it was the training or something else that had kept Stilinski from flashing fang this morning. He still couldn't help but think that his wife and father were underestimating the man.

-o0o-

The shack didn't smell like alcohol, but it was as dank as Chris thought it would be—spider webs, bird droppings, and mouse nests added to the smell of rust, dust and disuse. Gerard's muscle from the second SUV stayed outside, watching the forest.

Inside, they ignored the old, disintegrating vendetta symbol to look at the new one cutting cleanly through the corrugated tin walls. The symmetry of the cuts proved that it was a sentient creature with claws ("Just call it a damn werewolf.")

Chris could remember a few of the packs that had attended the talks only from the hunts that had happened around the edges of it. He'd attended a couple sessions, but he'd gone as muscle—watching the wolves for signs of ambush or betrayal. He hadn't listened to their names.

Gerard, on the other hand, had talked to just about everyone—certainly all the hunters, but many of the Alphas, too. ("Do you think I bothered to remember their names?")

It was almost the exact thing Chris had thought just moments ago, and the realization that he was even that much like his father made Chris' pulse jump. He took a breath, and focused on what needed doing at the moment. Which was figuring out how the events of then would impact the now.

He tried to pry more information from his father about the big gathering eight years ago-simple questions, with easy answers. Aside from Talia Hale and Deucalion, which Alphas had attended? They'd executed a Beta for killing a human. Whose pack had it belonged to? ("You want affiliations, too?")

Gerard dodged the questions. He mocked their concerns. He walked away. Gerard's obstructionism made Sheriff Stilinski seem like goddamn Wikipedia.

And it was a piss-poor commentary on a person when an effing werewolf was more helpful than your own father

It wasn't a complete waste of time though. The more Gerard blocked and denied their questions, the more Victoria frowned at him in disapproval. It wouldn't be long before she booted him from the house, if her flat gaze and crossed-arms-of-doom were anything to go by.

Finally, after nearly thirty minutes of wasted time, Victoria had had enough. "Since your recollections are so… Spotty, there's no reason for us to stay here any longer," she said through a tight smile. Gerard's answering smile was equally false. Part of it was arrogance, but Chris thought part of it was fear. His father sure as hell knew more than he was telling.

One of Gerard's team took a step into the shack. "Sir."

Gerard's turn to his trooper was too quick to be anything but relieved. "Yes, what is it?"

"Anderson says he's spotted an omega. Possibly the one who dug up the grave a couple days ago, and attacked the ambulance."

Gerard's brows lifted. "Well, well."

Chris looked at Victoria. Her brows were up too. "How far away?"

The guy—Cooper, Chris though his name was—looked to Gerard before answering. Gerard gave a small nod. "Half a mile, heading west. We're downwind." That gave them an advantage.

Chris looked to his wife and leader to receive instructions. It had been too long since they'd had a simple, black-and-white hunt. Sure, the first victim had been dead for a couple months, and the guy in the ambulance had been on his way to being dead, but the way the Omega appeared to be escalating, it likely wouldn't wait for his next victim to expire naturally.

Before it could kill a healthy human—a kid or a senior, most likely—they could hunt it down and get rid of it. They could finally be the good guys again.

"See if you can locate it," Victoria ordered the men. "If it's isolated enough, kill it. But it has to be completely isolated," she emphasized. "No trails, no paths, no camping areas. Not even broken glass from some high schoolers' illicit drinking party. And if you kill it, you need to bury it deep enough that coyotes won't dig up the corpse. We can't risk more attention by law enforcement or the media." She looked at them all in turn, stopping at Gerard. "Failure to follow my instructions will have grave repercussions. Do I make myself clear?"

Gerard's three hunters nodded, shifting nervously. Gerard himself stood still. Only a narrowing of his eyes showing how much he disliked being lectured to like a recruit.

"Perfectly clear, Victoria. Your tone was very masterful. "He said it as if she needed the validation, like it was a test and he was the judge. He said it in such a way as to completely undermine Victoria's authority. And then he walked away before she could get it back.

"I'm going to follow up on the Alpha Pack," Chris said before Gerard was completely out of earshot.

If he had to go hunting with his father right now, it might not be the werewolf who got hurt.