(MC POV)
The sudden glare of the Camaro's headlights pinned Vance against the ruined F-150 like a startled insect. His face, already pale with terror under the firelight, bleached bone-white. The fumbled magazine lay forgotten in the dirt at his feet. His empty pistol felt suddenly like a child's toy in his trembling hand. The detached, professional killer was gone, replaced by raw, animal panic. The sight of Derek Hale, eyes blazing electric blue, stepping out of the muscle car was the final nail in the coffin of his composure. One monster rising from the grave was nightmare fuel. Two Hales? That was the stuff of extinction-level terror.
"Took your time digging yourself out, little brother," Derek rumbled, his voice cutting through the tense silence like gravel under a boot.
He slammed the Camaro's door, the sound echoing like a gunshot. His gaze swept the scene – the shattered windshield, the dying fire, Vance frozen against the truck, Lenny's unconscious form a dark lump near the boulder I'd dragged him behind, and me, standing amidst it all, covered in grave soil, dried blood, and radiating lethal intent.
A slow, dangerous smirk touched Derek's lips. "Looks like you started the party without me. Need a hand interrogating the trash?"
The 'little brother' jab was pure Derek. Old habit. A reminder of a simpler, far more painful time. Right now, it was a spark thrown onto gasoline. Vance flinched violently at Derek's words, his eyes darting between us, realizing the depth of the hell he'd stumbled into. He wasn't just facing *a* werewolf. He was facing *Hales*. And Kate Argent had buried one of them.
"Trash is about right," I growled, my focus never leaving Vance. The cold fury crystallized into razor-sharp focus. Kate's scent might have faded from this clearing, but Vance reeked of her orders, her money, and my blood. He was the key. "Meet Mark Vance. Ex-Army. Hired gun. Reliable, apparently." My lip curled. "Reliable at shooting people in the back and digging shallow graves."
Derek took a few deliberate steps forward, his movements smooth, predatory. He stopped just outside the direct circle of firelight, letting the shadows cling to him, making the blue of his eyes even more unnerving.
"Kate always did have a taste for disposable help," he said, his voice low and dripping with venom. "Remember the last batch?" He didn't need to elaborate. The charred ruins of the Hale house were a monument to Kate's 'disposable help'.
Vance found his voice, a strangled gasp. "Y-you… Hale… Derek Hale? But Kate said… she said the Hales were gone! Just the new Alpha left!"
Derek's smirk widened, utterly devoid of humor. "Reports of my demise were greatly exaggerated. Unlike yours, which are about to be remarkably accurate." He took another step, his presence a physical weight pressing down on Vance. "Where. Is. Kate."
Vance swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing convulsively. Fear warred with a flicker of his old training. He straightened slightly, trying to salvage some shred of defiance. "Go to hell. Both of you freaks. You won't get anything from me."
*Wrong answer.*
I didn't move. Derek didn't move. But the air *changed*. The low thrum of power that always simmered beneath my skin surged outwards, amplified by Derek's own potent presence. It wasn't just pressure this time. It was a wave of pure, predatory *dominance*, a force that spoke of ancient forests and teeth in the dark. The fire guttered violently, nearly snuffing out. The remaining embers cast frantic, dancing shadows that made the clearing feel like a cave mouth to something primordial.
Vance staggered back as if physically struck, hitting the truck's fender hard. His eyes widened impossibly further, the whites stark against his terror. A whimper escaped his clenched teeth. The pistol clattered from his nerveless fingers onto the dirt.
"You will answer," I commanded, my voice resonating with Alpha power, weaving compulsion into every syllable. It wasn't a request. It was a law of nature. "Where is Kate Argent hiding?"
Vance's jaw worked. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with the dirt. He fought it, his muscles straining against the invisible chains of my will. He was strong-willed, trained to resist interrogation. But he wasn't trained to resist *this*. The raw, supernatural imperative clawed at his mind. His resistance crumbled like wet sand.
"S-safe house…" he choked out, the words dragged from him. "Old… old ranger station… north end of the preserve… near the abandoned silica mine." He gasped, fighting for breath against the compulsion. "She… uses it… when in town… didn't tell me… exactly which one… but it's fortified… alarms…"
"Why now?" Derek demanded, his voice cutting like a whip. "Why come back? Why target *him*?" He jerked his head towards me.
Vance's eyes darted to me, filled with a new kind of horror. "The Alpha… she said… biggest threat… consolidate power… easier pickings… after…" He shuddered. "Said… message… to the others… show what happens…"
*Consolidate power. Easier pickings.* My pack. Erica, Sara, Stiles, Danny, Malia. Allison. Melissa. Fuel was added to the inferno inside me. Kate wasn't just gunning for me; she was setting the stage to wipe out everything I'd built.
"And Malia Hale?" I pressed, stepping closer, invading his personal space. The scent of his terror was thick, sour. "The girl in the hospital. Why is Kate interested in her?"
Confusion flickered across Vance's terror-stricken face. Genuine confusion. "The… girl? Malia? I… I don't know. Kate didn't mention any girl. Just the Alpha. Said he was the priority. The lynchpin." He shook his head desperately. "I swear! She didn't say anything about a girl!"
I believed him. His terror was too deep, the compulsion too strong, for deception on that point. But Kate's scent *had* been near Malia's room earlier. It didn't add up. Unless… unless Malia wasn't part of Vance's mission parameters. Kate kept her cards close.
"How was she contacting you?" Derek asked, his gaze boring into Vance.
"B-burner phone," Vance stammered. "She gave me one. Told me to ditch it after… after the job. Smashed it… back near the gas station… after we dumped… after we left." He looked sick. "Said she'd contact me… if needed… for cleanup… or the next phase…"
"Next phase?" My voice was dangerously soft.
"She… she hinted… bigger targets… after the Alpha was… dealt with… but didn't say who…" Vance's eyes darted to Derek again, then back to me, pure dread. "Please… I told you… everything…"
He had. The well was dry. The scent of utter truth, mixed with abject terror and the sour tang of imminent voiding of his bladder, confirmed it. Vance was spent. He'd served his purpose. He'd confirmed Kate's location, her immediate plan, and his role as a disposable tool.
The cold rage settled into an icy calm. Justice. Vengeance. They were the same coin tonight. He'd put bullets in me. He'd helped carry my body. He'd dug the hole. He'd taken my money. He'd called me a dumb animal. He'd been paid to end my life and thought it easy money.
I looked at Derek. A silent communication passed between us, forged in shared loss, shared fury, shared blood. There was no question. No hesitation. Kate Argent's hired guns didn't get retirement plans. They got reckonings. Derek gave a single, almost imperceptible nod. His blue eyes held no mercy, only the cold certainty of a predator about to cull.
Vance saw it. The finality in our shared glance. The last vestiges of hope died in his eyes, replaced by pure, unadulterated despair. "No… please… I told you! I cooperated! I–"
He didn't get to finish his plea.
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't drawn out. It was efficient. Brutal. Final.
One moment he was babbling against the truck. The next, I moved. A single, blindingly fast step forward. My right hand snapped out, claws fully extended, gleaming wickedly in the guttering firelight. No roar. No snarl. Just the lethal precision of an apex predator eliminating a threat.
My claws tore through the soft flesh and cartilage of his throat with sickening ease. A wet, tearing sound, abruptly cut off. A choked, gurgling gasp. His eyes bulged, locking onto mine with a final surge of incomprehensible terror, then instantly glazing over. A fountain of arterial blood, shockingly bright in the dim light, erupted, spraying hot across the front of the F-150, the dirt, and my already blood-stained arm.
He slid down the side of the truck, leaving a gruesome smear, and crumpled bonelessly into the dirt at my feet. A final twitch, then stillness. The coppery stench of fresh blood flooded the clearing, overwhelming the smells of gunpowder, fear, and damp earth.
Silence descended, thick and heavy, broken only by the crackle of the dying fire and the distant hum of the Camaro's engine. The raw violence hung in the air, a tangible thing. Justice served. Blood debt collected.
I looked down at Vance's body, then at my blood-slicked claws. The rage hadn't dissipated; it had been… satisfied. Tempered, for now. The monster Kate had tried to bury had well and truly emerged. And it had teeth.
"Clean," Derek observed flatly, stepping closer. He nudged Vance's leg with his boot. No remorse. Just assessment. "Ahat about tne other guy?"
"Lenny? He's alive," I said, retracting my claws with a thought. The blood felt sticky, warm. "Unconscious. Back behind the boulder. Small-time muscle. Terrified out of his wits. He didn't know anything useful Kate hadn't already told Vance." I looked towards the boulder. "He's… disposable. But killing him feels like overkill. He's not a threat. Just a fool who took bad money."
Derek grunted. "Leave him. Let him wake up to this." He gestured at Vance's body. "Let him carry the story back to whatever gutter he crawled out of. A message about the cost of working for Kate Argent." He looked at me, his blue eyes intense. "More effective than another body, sometimes. Fear spreads."
I nodded. It made tactical sense. Lenny waking up alone in the woods with his partner's savaged corpse… that would haunt him, break him. He'd run far and fast, and his babbling terror would be a warning to others in his grubby underworld. Kate couldn't trust hired help if they knew this was the potential paycheck. "Agreed."
The immediate threat was neutralized. The pack needed an update. I needed to wash Vance's blood off my hands. Literally and figuratively. I walked towards the F-150. The keys were still in the ignition.
I turned it on, wincing at the grinding sound from the ruined starter motor beneath the shattered windshield. But the engine coughed and rumbled to life. I flipped on the headlights, bathing the grisly scene in stark white light, then turned on the windshield wipers.
They smeared blood and glass fragments uselessly across the cracked windshield. I found the knob for the windshield washer fluid and pulled. A weak spray of blue liquid arced out, useless against the carnage. I needed a real cleanup.
I killed the engine. "Danny should be able to track my phone's last ping," I said, turning to Derek. "Or maybe Stiles has already triangulated the gas station area. I need to call the pack. Reassure them properly." The thought of Sara and Erica, the hollow terror they must have felt in the bond… it twisted something inside me, sharper than any bullet. "And I need to find a sink."
Derek jerked his thumb towards the Camaro. "Use mine. Glove compartment. Charger's probably in there too. Your phone's toast, I assume?"
"Crushed under a tire, according to Lenny," I confirmed, walking towards the sleek black car. The contrast between its predatory lines and the battered, blood-spattered F-150 was stark.
I opened the passenger door, the familiar scent of leather and Derek – ozone, old books, and wolf – washing over me. It was grounding. I found a sleek, modern satellite phone in the glove compartment, along with a car charger. Jackpot. Derek always was prepared for off-grid trouble.
I plugged the phone in, the screen blinking to life. Strong signal. Perfect. I dialed Stiles first. He answered before the first ring finished.
"DANNY TRACE IT! TRACE IT NOW! Unknown number! Could be Kate! Could be–"
"Stiles," I interrupted, my voice calmer now, the adrenaline receding slightly. "It's me. Again."
A choked sound, half-sob, half-laugh. "Jake! Thank god! Derek texted just 'On scene. Jake's here.' which is like, the least reassuring thing ever! What happened? Are you okay? Where are you? Did you find them? Are they dead? Please say they're dead!"
"Deep breaths, Stiles," I said, leaning against the Camaro's warm hood. Derek was checking Vance's pockets, efficiently and dispassionately. "I'm fine. Mostly clean. We're northeast of the Howling Moose, deep in the quarry access roads. We found them. One is dead. The other is… incapacitated. Won't be a problem." I heard Stiles relay the information rapidly to someone nearby – Danny, probably. "Kate's not here. But we got a location. Old ranger station near the north end silica mine. Fortified."
"Got it!" Danny's voice came through, clear and focused. "Pulling up maps and satellite imagery now. Stiles, hand me the– yeah, thanks. Okay, dude, I see it. Looks pretty isolated. Multiple structures. Could be tricky."
"We'll handle tricky," I said. "Danny, any luck with hospital surveillance? Or anything near the gas station?"
"Gas station cameras were useless, like I said," Danny replied. "But I did hack into a traffic cam further down the road *after* the F-150 passed. Got a glimpse of a black SUV – late model Tahoe – turning off towards the industrial park about two minutes later. Tinted windows, no plate visible. Could be Kate's wheels. As for the hospital… nothing overtly suspicious yet on the external feeds. But internal is harder without physical access. Stiles and I are monitoring police scanners too. The DOA call from the gas station is all over it, but they've got no leads, no description of shooters besides 'unknown assailants'. They found your truck, the shell casings, blood… lots of blood. They think it's a homicide."
"Let them think it," I said grimly. "How are the girls? Malia?"
"Putting you on speaker, Jake," Stiles said. A click, then a rush of background noise – the distinct hum and beeps of a hospital corridor.
"Jake?" Erica's voice was tight, strained, but the raw panic was gone, replaced by a simmering fury barely held in check. "You're sure you're okay?" She sounded slightly confused by the last part.
"I'm whole, Erica," I said, pouring reassurance down the bond, feeling her tense presence relax a fraction. "One of the shooters is dealt with. Justice served. The other is no threat. Kate's next. How's Malia?"
"Sleeping," Sara's softer voice answered. "We're… we're okay now. Malia's and Stiles seem to be bonding. Melissa checked on her half an hour ago, looked worried but professional. Chris Argent showed up briefly, spoke to Melissa before we left the hospital, looked grim. Didn't come near us. We just got to the loft and Danny and Stiles found the gyn stash."
Chris Argent. Interesting. Was he hunting Kate too? Or just monitoring the fallout? "Good. Stay vigilant. Kate seems to know Malia's here, even if her hired help didn't. That SUV Danny spotted… it could be heading your way as a distraction, or worse. Assume she knows we're coming for her at the ranger station. She might try to hit you while we're occupied."
"Let her try," Erica snarled, the promise of violence vibrating down the line. "We're ready, Jake. This den is locked down."
"Danny, Stiles – keep digging on that Tahoe, the ranger station layouts," I ordered. "Send anything useful to Derek's phone." I recited the number from the sat phone's screen. "We're heading there now."
"Roger that, Jake," Danny confirmed. "Be careful."
"Always am," I lied smoothly. "Sara, Erica… stay safe. Protect Malia. I'll be back soon."
"Come back whole," Sara whispered. "We need you."
"Always," I vowed. I ended the call, the silence of the woods rushing back in. The weight of their worry, their trust, settled on my shoulders. A different weight than the rage, but just as potent.
Derek straightened up from Vance's body, holding a small, blood-smeared object. He walked over, tossing it to me. "Found this in his pocket. Along with about five hundred in cash. Probably yours."
I caught the object. It was a bullet. Not a spent casing, but a live round. Heavy caliber. .50 BMG, like the sniper rifle he'd used. But this one was different. The copper jacket had been intricately etched, and a small loop had been soldered onto the base, turning it into a crude pendant. Strung on a cheap leather cord, now stained with Vance's blood.
"Souvenir?" Derek asked, his voice dripping with disdain.
I turned the bullet pendant over in my fingers. The etching wasn't random. It was a symbol. A stylized mountain peak with three jagged lines beneath it. Recognition slammed into me like a physical blow. I'd seen that symbol before. Recently.
On the charm bracelet Malia Hale had been wearing when I found her, half-feral and terrified in her coyote form. The bracelet Melissa McCall had carefully removed and placed in a plastic bag with her belongings when she was admitted. I'd noticed it because the symbols were unusual, almost tribal.
"No," I breathed, my blood running cold despite the lingering adrenaline. "Not a souvenir. A message. A signature."
Derek frowned. "What?"
"This symbol," I said, holding up the etched bullet. "It was on Malia's bracelet. The one she had when she was lost in the coyote form."
Derek's eyes narrowed, the blue flaring brighter. "Kate's symbol? On Malia's bracelet? But Vance said Kate didn't mention Malia…"
"He didn't know," I said, the pieces clicking into place with horrifying clarity. "Because Malia isn't part of *his* mission. She's part of Kate's *personal* mission. The bracelet… Kate must have given it to her. Or her family, years ago. The Hale fire, Derek… Kate was there. She orchestrated it. And the Hales weren't her only targets back then. The Hales *and* their closest allies."
Derek's face went utterly still. The air around him crackled with suppressed power. "The Calaveras," he whispered, the name like poison on his tongue. "They used similar symbols. Mercenary hunters. Kate worked with them."
"Exactly," I said, my grip tightening on the cold metal pendant. Vance hadn't known about Malia because Kate hadn't trusted him with that piece of her vendetta. But she'd sent him out with *this* – a symbol linked to Malia, linked to the fire, linked to the Calaveras. Was it a taunt? A reminder? Or something else? "She didn't just want me dead to weaken the pack. She wants Malia. This symbol… it connects them. Connects Malia to whatever Kate's real endgame is. Vance was just the blunt instrument for part one. Malia… Malia is key to part two. And she's lying defenseless in that hospital."
The icy calm shattered. The rage roared back, fiercer than before, laced with a new, chilling fear. Kate wasn't just attacking my present; she was digging up graves from the past, targeting a traumatized girl who was now under *my* protection. The ranger station was important, but the hospital was now a critical vulnerability.
Derek saw the shift in me. His own expression was granite. "We split up," he stated, no room for argument. "You go to the your den. Protect Malia. Protect the pack. I'll hit the ranger station. See if Kate's still there, or if she left any clues. If she's there…" A feral glint entered his blue eyes. "I'll have a conversation."
It was the right call. Kate might be at the ranger station, or she might be using it as a decoy, heading straight for Malia now that her initial hit had failed. We needed to cover both angles.
I tossed the bloody bullet pendant onto the seat of the Camaro. "Take this. See if it means anything else in her nest." I looked towards the woods where Lenny was still out cold. "Leave him. Let the cops find this mess in the morning. It'll muddy the waters nicely." I grabbed the cash Derek had taken from Vance – my cash. "I'll take your car. You good with Vance's truck?" I gestured at the blood-smeared F-150.
Derek grimaced but nodded. "It'll get me there. Less conspicuous than the Camaro for a stealth approach anyway." He tossed me the keys to his beloved car. "Try not to wreck it."
I managed a grim smile. "No promises. But I'll try." I slid into the driver's seat of the Camaro. The engine purred with barely restrained power. I looked at Derek, standing over Vance's body, a dark silhouette against the dying embers. "Derek… be careful. Kate's playing a deeper game than we thought."
He met my gaze, his blue eyes burning in the gloom. "So are we, little brother." He turned towards the battered truck. "Go. Protect your pack. I'll handle the hunter."
I didn't need telling twice. I slammed the Camaro into gear, the tires spitting dirt and gravel as I spun it around on the narrow access road. The headlights cut a swath through the darkness as I roared back towards civilization, towards my loft. The scent of blood – Vance's, mine – filled the car, a grim reminder. The etched bullet pendant lay on the passenger seat, a cold, metallic omen.
Kate Argent wanted a war. She'd shot me, buried me, and targeted a broken girl under my protection. She'd unleashed the monster she thought she'd killed.
Now, the monster was coming for her. And it wasn't going back into the ground. The loft was the new frontline. Malia was the key. And I would tear apart anyone who tried to touch her.
The rage was a living thing again, a coiled serpent beneath my skin, ready to strike. Beacon Hills was about to learn what happened when you woke a buried Alpha.