I woke up with a sharp gasp, my chest heaving as I fought to separate the nightmare from reality. My skin was damp with sweat, and the echoes of Gerard's voice still rang in my ears.

We find them, we kill them all.

The words twisted in my mind, overlapping with different memories—mine, Peter's, maybe even Scott's. It was impossible to tell anymore. The lines between what I had lived and what I had seen through their eyes were blurring together.

I sat up, rubbing my temples, trying to steady my breathing. The room was dark, but I wasn't alone. A familiar presence was near, watching.

"You're shaking, Little Wolf."

Peter's voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it. He had felt it too—through our bond, through whatever had tethered us together since we were young.

I didn't respond immediately, my pulse still racing. Finally, I whispered, "It's them. It's always them."

Peter didn't ask who. He already knew.

I turned toward him, barely able to make out his face in the dim light. "It's not just my memories coming back, Peter. I feel everything. Yours, Scott's—anyone I've connected with." I swallowed hard. "It's like they're bleeding together, like I'm losing control of what's real and what isn't."

Peter shifted closer, his sharp eyes studying me carefully. "That's dangerous," he murmured. "If you can't separate your own thoughts from someone else's, you could lose yourself completely."

I clenched my fists, my nails pressing into my palms. "I won't. I can't afford to."

Peter's expression darkened. "And if they come for you again? If Gerard still sees you as a threat?"

I met his gaze without hesitation. "Then we stop them before they get the chance."

He studied me for a long moment before a slow, satisfied smirk crossed his lips. "That's my girl."

I buried myself into him, to ground myself into something I knew was real. The connection my pack had with the Hales, my connection with Peter was something they were afraid of, but I still didn't understand why.

When we form packs, we're able to keep each other in check, keep ourselves from losing complete control. It's when we were isolated, alone, that's when we were most dangerous.

"We need to bring the rest of the pack home," Peter said, arms wrapped around me, "we can't be divided now."

"The rest of the pack?" I looked up at him.

"Derek's bitten wolves," he said, "Isaac, Boyd, and Erica. They were turned by Derek when he was an alpha. A bunch of scared teenagers. They left when the Alpha Pack tried to get Derek to kill them."

"I understand why you aren't an Alpha anymore," I murmured, "but what happened to Derek?"

"He gave up his alpha spark to save Cora," Peter responded.

I absorbed that information in silence, the weight of it settling over me. Derek had sacrificed his alpha status to save his sister. That wasn't something I'd expected—Peter always spoke about power like it was everything. But Derek had given his up without hesitation.

"We need them," Peter continued. "Isaac, Boyd, Erica… they're still pack, even if they ran. We need to bring them back before Gerard or anyone else gets to them first."

I nodded slowly, my mind already racing. If we were going to war—because let's be honest, that's what this was turning into—then we needed numbers. And we needed them fast.

"I don't even know where to start looking," I admitted.

Peter smirked. "Luckily, I do."

"Scott's pack is strange," I said watching as he opened his laptop. "They're not all wolves. Malia's a coyote, Kira's a fox, Lydia's a banshee, and Stiles is just human."

"Scott also has a Beta," Peter said, "younger high school kid. Liam, I think his name is. Anger issues." He smirked at that last part.

I leaned over his shoulder, watching as he pulled up what looked like an old email thread. "You've been keeping tabs on them?"

Peter shrugged. "Call it an insurance policy. You never know when you'll need to cash in on a favor."

I narrowed my eyes but let it slide. "So what's the plan? We track down Derek's old pack, convince them to come back, and hope they don't try to kill us in the process?"

Peter smirked. "More or less."

I sighed. "Great. Just another day in Beacon Hills."

"With the pack united," he said, "we can take out the hunters."

"Should we talk to Derek and Scott before we start dragging back their old pack mates?" I asked.

"This way is much more," Peter looked up at me with that smirk of his, "fun."

I crossed my arms, giving him a pointed look. "Yeah, because nothing screams fun like tracking down traumatized werewolves and convincing them to rejoin a pack that fell apart."

Peter chuckled. "You wound me, Little Wolf. But I promise you, this is necessary."

I sighed. "Fine. But if we get our asses handed to us because we didn't warn Derek and Scott first, I'm blaming you."

"I'd expect nothing less," he said with a smirk. "Now, let's go find some lost wolves."

—-

"I can't fucking believe you didn't tell me you called them," Derek's voice was low, laced with anger, as he glared at Peter, who lounged on the sofa in the loft like he hadn't a care in the world. His smirk only deepened Derek's scowl.

"She did suggest I tell you," Peter replied, his tone casual, almost teasing, as he gestured vaguely toward me. "But surprise reunions are more exciting, don't you think?"

"No, I don't think," Derek snapped, his hands clenched at his sides. "Though I am surprised they're coming. Cora, I understand, but the rest?"

Peter quirked a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. "You doubt my powers of persuasion, nephew?"

I stepped between them, my voice steady. "Does it really matter how they were notified of this new threat? They're coming, and we can fight it together."

Derek's eyes flicked to me, his jaw tightening. "The problem with us being all in one place," he said, his tone heavy, "is it puts a target on all of us."

"There's already a target on all of us," I countered, my voice rising slightly. "The hunters are picking us off one by one. We can't keep pretending isolation is the answer."

Derek exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "I get that. But do you have any idea how hard it was for them to walk away the first time? And now we're dragging them back into this?"

"No one's dragging anyone," I countered. "They're making their own choices. And maybe this time, they don't have to run."

Peter stretched lazily, clearly enjoying the tension. "See? That's the spirit, Little Wolf. Strength in numbers. Besides, it's not like they have anywhere better to be."

Derek shot him a glare but didn't argue. He knew we were right. The pack was coming home, whether he liked it or not. I could see the conflict in his eyes—the weight of responsibility, the fear of loss. But underneath it all, there was a flicker of hope. A hope that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

I plopped down on the couch beside Peter, the leather creaking softly under my weight. His arm draped around my shoulders almost instinctively, his fingers brushing lightly against my arm. Like something in him needed to be connected to me. I felt that same pull, that same instinctive need to be close to him.

A pounding at the door pulled Derek away, his footsteps heavy as he crossed the loft. He yanked the door open, and Scott stormed in, his face a mixture of frustration and disbelief.

"Which one of you contacted Jackson?" he asked as he stormed in. He stared directly at Peter already knowing the answer.

Peter smirked, completely unbothered. "I did. You're welcome."

Scott looked like he was seconds away from shifting. "Peter, do you ever stop meddling?"

"Not when it's this entertaining," Peter mused, fingers lazily tracing circles on my shoulder. "Besides, if we're reuniting the pack, why leave out the prodigal lizard?"

Scott groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Jackson isn't just a kanima anymore. He barely even considers himself part of this pack."

"Yet he's on his way," Peter pointed out. "Curious, don't you think?"

I glanced between them. "He wouldn't come back unless he thought there was a real reason to. Maybe deep down, he still gives a damn."

Scott clenched his jaw, clearly frustrated. "You better hope so. Because if he's not on our side when he gets here, that's on you, Peter."

Peter just chuckled, his grip on me tightening slightly. "Oh, Scott. I think you underestimate how persuasive I can be."

"So when is this reunion going to take place?" Derek asked.

"Their flights should be landing," Peter glanced at his watch, "any minute now. One of you should probably head over to pick them up."

Scott pinched the bridge of his nose. "You didn't even arrange for them to get here?"

Peter shrugged. "They're capable of finding their way. But if you'd like to roll out the welcome wagon, be my guest."

Derek sighed. "I'll go."

"I'll go with you," Scott added quickly, already heading for the door.

I shifted against Peter, glancing up at him. "Are you sure they'll even want to stay?"

"Oh, they'll stay," Peter murmured, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Because the second they step foot in Beacon Hills, they'll realize there's nowhere else they belong."

His words sent a shiver through me, and I couldn't help but wonder if he was talking about them—or me. I swallowed hard, my gaze flicking to his. "What about the ones that are already here in Beacon Hills?"

Peter's eyes darkened as he leaned in, his lips just a fraction away from mine. "We'll worry about that later, Little Wolf. I just got you alone."

"Peter," I breathed, my heart pounding in my chest as my gaze locked with his. "There's so much that we need to do."

"There's always something that needs to be done," he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly down my arm. "But right now, all I care about is you."

His lips hovered over mine, the space between us charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. My pulse raced, my body torn between the urgency of our situation and the pull of him—of us.

I swallowed hard. "Peter, we can't afford distractions."

He smirked, his fingers tilting my chin up. "Then stop looking at me like that, Little Wolf."

I exhaled shakily. "Like what?"

His lips ghosted over mine, his breath warm. "Like you want this as much as I do."

"I…" I started, but my words faltered as his hand slid to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. I could feel the heat of his body, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. And then, before I could stop him, before I could even think to pull away, his lips were on mine.

The kiss was slow at first, a tentative exploration that quickly deepened into something far more passionate. His tongue swept into my mouth, claiming me in a way that left no room for doubt. I moaned softly, my hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as I pulled him closer. His grip on me tightened, his fingers digging into my skin as if he was afraid I might disappear.

The world outside ceased to exist, the looming threat of hunters and the impending reunion of the pack fading into the background. All that mattered was this—was him. His lips, his hands, the way his body pressed against mine, igniting a fire that threatened to consume us both.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his eyes darkened with desire. "Tell me to stop," he whispered, his voice rough.

I shook my head, my own breath coming in short gasps. "I can't."

His lips crashed into mine again, fiercer this time, more urgent. His hands roamed over my body, igniting every nerve ending in their wake. I arched into him, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine.

"Peter," I gasped between kisses, my voice trembling with need. "Wait."

He stilled, his eyes searching mine. "Wait?" he repeated, his voice tinged with frustration.

I nodded, my chest rising and falling as I tried to catch my breath. "The others… they could come back any minute."

A low growl rumbled in his chest, but he didn't argue. Instead, he leaned his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin. "I don't care," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Let them see. Let everyone see that you're mine."

His words sent a shiver through me, but before I could respond, the sound of the door opening echoed through the loft. We both froze, our eyes darting toward the entrance.

"We're back," Scott called out, his voice carrying through the space. "And we've got company."

Peter let out a low growl, his grip on me tightening for a moment before he reluctantly pulled away. "Later," he whispered, his voice a promise. "This isn't over."

I nodded, my heart still racing as I tried to steady my breathing. But as Scott and Derek entered the room, followed by the rest of the pack, I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. The moment was gone, but the tension between us remained, simmering just below the surface, waiting to erupt.

Peter's hand lingered on my waist for a moment longer before he finally released me, his eyes locking with mine one last time. "We'll finish this," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight that sent a shiver down my spine.

I swallowed hard, my gaze flicking to the others as they filed into the room. "I know," I whispered, my voice barely audible. But as I watched Jackson step inside, his expression unreadable, I couldn't help but wonder if we were walking into something far more dangerous than I had anticipated.

The tension in the room was palpable as the pack gathered. Their faces were a mixture of relief and apprehension—relief that they were all finally together, but apprehension about what lay ahead. The weight of everything we had to face pressed down on us like an invisible force, but the moments that had passed between Peter and me still lingered in the air, charging the atmosphere.

Peter took a step back, his eyes lingering on me for just a second longer before he shifted his focus to the rest of the group. He knew I could feel the pull between us, and it was clear that the others did too. It was as if the room held its breath, waiting for the storm to break, for the tension to snap.

Scott cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the thick silence. "Alright, everyone, let's get to business. Jackson, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, I know you're all back here because you want answers. We all want answers. But we also need to be ready for what's coming."

Jackson's eyes darted to Peter, lingering for a moment before they shifted to me, something unreadable in his gaze. "You're not just fighting hunters," he said, his voice low and steady. "You're fighting something bigger, something that's been building for years. And it's coming for all of us."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy cloak. Peter's hand subtly brushed mine, grounding me, but I couldn't shake the feeling that we were all being pulled toward a dangerous precipice. The reunion with the pack had been inevitable, but the truth—our shared history, the Argents, the wolves, everything—was slowly unfurling like a dark and twisted tapestry.

"Then we fight," Peter's voice was a low growl, his eyes flicking toward Jackson, who was now looking back at him, the unspoken challenge between them lingering.

"How do we fight something that we barely understand?" Derek asked, his voice laced with uncertainty. "The hunters are one thing, but what if there's more to this? What if we're not just dealing with a few rogue hunters?"

"We'll figure it out," Scott said, his tone firm. "We have to. We don't have the luxury of waiting for answers." His gaze shifted between Peter and me, something unspoken passing between them. "Right?"

I nodded slowly, but the knot in my stomach tightened. It wasn't just the Argents or the hunters we had to worry about anymore. Something darker, something older, was stirring—and it was watching us all.

The she-wolf, who I assumed was Erica stepped closer to me. Her eyes moved over me like she wanted to challenge me. "Who is she?"

"That is Nova," Derek answered, "retract your claws, Erica."

"You're not my Alpha anymore, Derek," she muttered, her eyes glowing gold as she circled me.

I stared back at her accepting her challenge. I didn't know this girl. But I could smell her fear, her hatred. A low growl rumbled in the back of my throat but I didn't back down.

Peter smirked, clearly amused.

Erica tilted her head, a slow, almost predatory smile forming on her lips. "Oh, she's got some fight in her," she mused, still circling me like I was prey. "That's cute."

I didn't move, my body rigid but calm, watching her every step. I didn't know her, didn't know what she wanted from me, but I wasn't about to let her think she could intimidate me. If she wanted to challenge me, she'd have to do more than posture.

"Erica," Boyd's voice cut through the thick tension in the air, a warning laced in his tone.

She sighed dramatically, finally stopping in front of me. "Fine," she muttered, but there was still something wild in her golden eyes.

Peter, still smirking, leaned casually against the wall. "I was hoping for a bit more of a show," he remarked. "You disappoint me, Erica."

"Yeah, well," she shot back, rolling her eyes, "you always did love a little bloodshed."

"Not always," he mused, his gaze flicking toward me before returning to Erica. "But it does make things more entertaining."

I exhaled slowly, steadying myself as Erica finally stepped back. I could still feel her eyes on me, measuring, judging. The reunion of Derek's old pack was proving to be more complicated than expected. There was tension, unresolved wounds, and an unspoken hierarchy still at play.

"Now that we've established the pecking order," Peter said, pushing off the wall, "can we move on to more pressing matters? Like the people who actually want to kill us?"

Erica scoffed but said nothing.

Derek sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Right. Let's focus. We have bigger problems than old grudges."

I stole one last glance at Erica before turning my attention back to Peter. The games, the challenges—they were only beginning.

"Where are the others?" I asked looking for the rest of our pack.

"They're on their way," Scott said, "We don't have time to waste fighting each other. We have to work together to stop whatever is coming."

As if on cue, a knock on the door announced the arrival. I sniffed the air, it was Kira, Malia, Lydia, Stiles, and another human.

I braced myself as they joined us. This man who was with them smelled familiar somehow.

"Nova," Scott saw the way I was studying the new human, "he's not an enemy. This is Chris Argent."

"You brought a hunter here?" I felt my canines lengthen and my eyes burn.

Peter's hand was on me in an instant, a silent reminder to stay in control, but my body was already reacting on instinct. A hunter. Here. In our territory.

Chris Argent stood calmly, his expression unreadable, but I could see the tension in his posture. He knew exactly what his presence meant to me—to all of us.

"He's not like the others," Scott insisted, stepping between us. "Chris has been helping us for years. He doesn't hunt like Gerard or Kate."

"That doesn't erase what he's done," I growled, my voice barely human.

Chris met my gaze, unwavering. "You're right," he said simply. "I've done things I can't take back. But I'm not here as your enemy. I'm here because I want Gerard stopped just as much as you do."

I didn't move, my body still thrumming with anger. Peter's fingers curled slightly against my waist, grounding me. "We should hear him out," he murmured.

I turned my glare to Peter. "You trust him?"

Peter let out a short, amused chuckle. "Oh, absolutely not. But I do love a good redemption arc."

Chris sighed. "I'm not looking for redemption. I'm here because Gerard has crossed a line. He doesn't just want rogue werewolves dead—he wants all of you wiped off the map. Supernaturals, anyone who sides with them… even hunters who don't follow his vision. He's assembling something bigger than just a group of killers. He's waging a war."

The room fell into heavy silence.

Scott looked at me, pleading for me to trust him on this. But trust wasn't something I gave freely. Not to hunters. Not to anyone.

Peter leaned in slightly, his breath warm against my ear. "If he's telling the truth," he whispered, "we'll need him. If he's lying… we'll handle it."

I exhaled slowly, forcing my claws to retract, my eyes to dim back to normal. "Fine," I said at last. "But if he so much as breathes wrong, he won't live long enough to regret it."

Chris nodded, accepting the threat without argument.

"Good," Peter said, clapping his hands together. "Now that we've established the terms of our fragile alliance, let's talk about how we plan to kill Gerard Argent."

"Why did he do this to me?" I stared at Chris Argent, "Why does he want to keep us apart?"

"I wish I could explain it all," he told me, "the Hales were a powerful pack. We heard rumors of a pack up north that was just as powerful, a pack that spent more time as wolves than as humans. Even had actual wolves in the pack."

"Your father had them all killed," I said, "my mother, the wolves, the whole fucking pack. We just lived peacefully in the woods."

Chris's face was lined with something close to regret, but I wasn't interested in his guilt. It wouldn't bring them back. It wouldn't undo what had been done.

"I didn't know the full extent of it," he admitted, his voice low. "Not until it was too late. Gerard always preached control—order. But when it came to your pack, he saw something he couldn't control. That terrified him."

"He didn't just want to kill us," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "He wanted to erase us. Wipe us from existence."

Chris didn't argue. He knew I was right.

I could feel Peter watching me, his presence steady, grounding. He hadn't let go of me since I'd nearly lost control. I wasn't sure I wanted him to.

"The thing I don't understand," I went on, stepping closer to Chris, "is why he kept me alive. Why he didn't kill me with the rest of my pack."

Chris exhaled slowly. "Because you were different. The last of something rare."

"A Sigma," Peter murmured, almost to himself.

Chris nodded. "Gerard doesn't just want you dead, Nova. He wants to study you. Understand what makes you different—what makes you stronger. And when he does…" His jaw tightened. "He'll make sure no one like you ever exists again."

I felt my stomach twist.

"He's never going to get that chance," I said coldly.

Chris met my gaze, solemn. "Then we'd better make sure of it."

"How do we stop him?" I asked, my voice steady despite the weight of everything Chris had just revealed.

"Together," Scott answered without hesitation. "We work together, we fight together."

"Or we die together," Peter added with a smirk, arms crossed as he leaned casually against the wall.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Not exactly helpful."

"Just telling the truth," Peter shrugged, unbothered.

Lydia ignored him, her expression growing more serious. "Something is coming," she said, her voice tinged with the eerie certainty that only a banshee could possess. "And it's not just Gerard."

The room went silent.

"What do you mean?" Derek asked, his eyes narrowing.

Lydia hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward. "I don't know all of it yet, but I can feel it. Something big. Bigger than just hunters with guns and vendettas. Death is coming, and if we don't figure this out fast… it's going to take more than just Gerard Argent."

I felt a chill run down my spine.

Scott turned to her, his jaw tightening. "Can you figure out how soon?"

Lydia shook her head. "No. Not yet. But soon." She glanced at me, her sharp green eyes searching mine. "And I think you're at the center of it, Nova."

I swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling in my chest like a stone.

"We don't wait for it to come to us," Peter said suddenly, his voice quieter now, but no less deadly. "We strike first."

"That's reckless," Scott argued.

"That's survival," Peter countered. "We don't sit around hoping for a premonition to tell us when it's time to act. We take control before it's too late."

"I hate to say it," Derek said with a sigh, "but for once, Peter has a point."

Scott looked between them, his jaw clenching as he considered the options. I could see the conflict in his eyes—the part of him that wanted to be the leader, the protector, the one who always found a way without becoming a monster himself.

But this wasn't just about being the hero anymore.

This was war.

—-

I stared out the window of Derek's loft. The pack drama had quietened and they were catching up like old friends. I suppose they were. But I wasn't apart of that. I didn't know them from before the world went to shit. Before I was the cause of it.

"You ok?" Stiles' voice cut through my thoughts.

"Yeah, sorry I just don't feel up to pack bonding time," I said, "they aren't my pack."

"They are," he said, "though I could do without Jackson and his poison-dripping claws. But he's still pack. I'm the one that really shouldn't fit here. Being 0% supernatural creature but somehow I do fit. And so do you."

"Maybe," I muttered, "but I can't help but feel like everything is my fault. If I hadn't come here none of you would be in danger."

"I know you're new to Beacon Hills," he smiled, "this place has endless supply of danger. And Lydia said you were the center of it, not the cause of it."

"I don't understand what else she could mean," I said. "Why am I so fucking important?'

"Well, I guess that's something we all have to figure out," Stiles responded, "I know since you've been here Peter hasn't gone on any murderous rampages."

I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. "That's a low bar, Stiles."

"Hey, it's progress," he grinned, rocking back on his heels. "For Peter, anyway."

I turned back toward the window, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. "I just don't get it. Why me?"

Stiles was quiet for a moment before stepping closer. "I don't think it's about why. It's about what. What makes you different? What makes you dangerous to Gerard? Because that's the real question, isn't it?"

I swallowed hard, his words hitting a little too close to home. What made me different? What made me dangerous?

Peter's voice drifted through my mind, the way he always called me Little Wolf like it meant something more than just a nickname. And Lydia—Lydia had said I was at the center of it.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Stiles sighed. "Well, good news is, you're not alone in figuring it out. Bad news is, if you don't, there's a pretty good chance it's gonna bite you in the ass."

I shot him a dry look. "Thanks for the pep talk."

He smirked. "Anytime."

For a moment, we just stood there, the weight of everything hanging between us. The pack laughing behind us. The city stretching out beyond the glass. And the unshakable feeling that this—all of this—was only the beginning.

"Hey, um, I know this is going to sound weird," Stiles said. "I mean, it is weird, but I'm going to ask you anyway."

"What could be any weirder than everything that's happened so far?" I shot back.

"Can you spit in this?" he handed me a test tube.

I looked at him and then at the tube, "Ok you're right, it is weird."

"I just want to test a theory," he said, "Do you have to be the one doing the healing thing or is it just your saliva? I mean don't get me wrong if you licking me stops me from bleeding out so be it but it doesn't seem very sanitary."

I stared at him, then at the test tube in my hand, then back at him again. "You seriously want me to spit in this so you can… what? Smear it on a paper cut and see if it magically heals?"

Stiles shrugged. "Basically, yeah."

I sighed, rubbing my temple. "This is what my life has come to."

"Hey, it's for science," he defended, gesturing toward the tube. "And, you know, survival. What if we can bottle your healing? Emergency first aid, werewolf edition."

I rolled my eyes but uncapped the test tube. "Fine. But if this backfires and you grow a tail or something, that's on you."

"Noted," Stiles said, watching intently as I spit into the tube. He held it up like he'd just collected the most valuable sample in the world.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Now," he grinned, "we find out if you're a walking miracle cure or just really bad at sharing drinks."