The Pack's Claim
Harry didn't look back.
Scott could stew in his bruised ego for all he cared. He hadn't wanted to interact with the pack in the first place, and if this little incident meant they would finally leave him alone, then good.
But, of course, that didn't happen.
If anything, things got worse.
Harry wasn't blind.
There was a new tension in the air. The subtle watching had turned into something more pointed, something heavier.
The pack wasn't just hovering anymore.
They were guarding.
And Harry?
He was completely clueless.
Peter was the first to break.
He wasn't a patient man, and watching the pack skulk around Harry's house like lovesick puppies was getting on his nerves.
So, one evening, instead of observing from the shadows, he knocked.
Harry opened the door, staring up at him with narrowed green eyes.
"Yes?"
Peter smirked. "I figured it was time we talked."
Harry raised a brow. "About?"
Peter leaned in just enough to make a point. "You."
Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I knew moving here was a mistake."
Peter chuckled. "Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea."
Harry glared.
Peter found it adorable.