Chapter Text
Peter sat behind his desk, a bored expression on his face as he watched his sister pace back and forth, swinging between outrage and disbelief. Every few minutes into her rant, he would tune in briefly to catch her current point.
“Of all the impulsive, reckless things you could do—seriously, Peter—” she raged.
Peter zoned out again, leaning back in his chair and casually picking dirt from under his nails. She’d been going on like this for a good half-hour now, and he’d finally reached his limit on pretending to care.
Honestly, Talia could be so overdramatic. He didn’t even understand why she was this upset; she’d always known about his desire to take an alpha spark for himself.
Did she really believe he would never go through with it?
Talia slammed her hands down on the desk, her jaw clenched in anger. “Peter, are you even listening to me? Do you understand the consequences of what you’ve done?” she hissed. Her claws dug into the wood, splintering it.
Peter sighed. “For the last time, Talia, yes, I understand,” he said, rubbing his forehead where a headache was starting to form. “And like I’ve already explained, it’s been handled. The pack has been paid off, Marcus and his little cronies are dead, and I’ve already secured my two betas. Soon, I’ll have a third.”
He rose from his desk and walked around to place his hands on his sister’s shoulders, gently rubbing them in the familiar gesture of comfort he’d always offered her when she was overwhelmed.
Tilting his head, he asked, “Do you really think I would have done this without ensuring the pack’s safety first?”
Talia didn’t answer right away, looking away as she shook her head slightly. After a pause, she took a deep breath.
“No, I don’t,” she admitted, a note of caution in her voice. “I just wish you’d told me about your plan before going ahead with it, Peter.”
Peter’s fingers stilled on her shoulders, a hint of tension flashing in his gaze before it disappeared beneath his usual mask of calm indifference.
“Talia,” he said, his tone almost soft, “you know how this works. If I’d told you beforehand, you would have tried to talk me out of it, like you’re doing now.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe that’s because what you’ve done has consequences for all of us—not just you, Peter. The packs will hear of this; some already have. An alpha spark taken by force doesn’t go unnoticed.”
Peter’s lips curved into a slight smirk, but his hands remained steady on her shoulders. “Then they’ll know to tread carefully. They’ll know the Hale name carries strength—and power.”
He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering. “You and I both know this is what’s needed if we’re going to keep the pack safe. For a while now, we’ve been hearing rumors that our so-called allies think we’re flying too close to the sun.”
His eyes narrowed before flashing their blazing red. “They’re sniffing around for weakness, sister,” he snarled. “That can’t be ignored. If we loosen our grip on their throats now, they’ll come for us.” His grip tightened on her shoulders, intensifying his words.
Talia hesitated, knowing this wasn’t something she could easily dismiss. She closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling sharply. “I don’t like it. But you’re right. After the witches and Deaton, we need to project strength. And any alpha with a sense of self-preservation wouldn’t try crossing a pack with two alphas front and center.”
Peter stepped back, folding his arms as he gave her a brief, assessing look. “Good. I’m glad you’re seeing the whole picture in this. From this point forward, we’re establishing ourselves back at the top of the food chain. Before long, the minor inconveniences we’ve dealt with this past year will be a mere thought in the wind.” A smirk spread across his lips.
“Plus, a slight change to my eyes isn’t the only news I have for you.” He leaned back against his desk, casually crossing his arms over his chest.
Talia raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued despite herself. “Oh? And what else have you done that I should know about, Peter?”
Peter’s smirk widened, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “Stiles has offered to ward the whole territory for us, lessening our need for a new emissary at the moment.”
Talia’s suspicion deepened as she studied his face. “And why has he had this change of heart all of a sudden?”
Peter chuckled softly. “Same reasons you came bursting into my office in an almost feral rage.” He waved his hand dismissively with a mock eye roll at his sister’s earlier anger, and Talia rolled her eyes back, ignoring her brother’s taunt.
“He’s come to the same reasoning we both have—agreeing that having a second alpha puts us at an advantage above others. But like you, he’s concerned about what kind of attention it could attract while the dust settles. And after tonight, he’s realized that even if he’s not part of the pack, people will take an interest in him because he’s connected to me.”
“So warding the territory is best for everyone. Not just us—Stiles has family here, and he doesn’t want them getting caught in the crossfire of anything that could have been prevented if the territory was warded,” Peter explained as he moved to sit back behind his desk.
His eyes now gleamed with amusement as he remembered Stiles going off on one of his tangents about warding, his eyes alight with the thrill of a new project.
Honestly, Peter wasn’t too fussed if the territory was warded or not. They’d gotten by for years without it anyway. But the added protection wasn’t something to scoff at, either. What he was most pleased about was Stiles doing it.
It would help secure Stiles’s place in the eyes of the pack, even if he wasn’t technically part of it, and with Stiles being the one to ward, Peter wouldn’t have to put his trust in a stranger.
Talia’s gaze softened slightly, though a hint of caution lingered. “He’s right about that, Peter. It makes him a target in the eyes of others, even if he’s not officially tied to us. But warding the whole territory… that’s no small task. Are you certain he’s capable?” she asked, a small note of doubt in her voice.
Peter’s expression was unreadable for a moment before his eyes narrowed defensively. “Stiles isn’t just capable; he’s more adept than most magic users twice his age. His skill in warding borders on brilliance—and, frankly, obsession. With him securing the land, we gain a level of defense that few could even attempt to breach.”
His wolf vibrated with pride within him. Stiles was the perfect mate—powerful, intelligent, and loyal. Peter couldn’t have picked better, even if he had been looking when Stiles stumbled into his life that night in the bar.
Talia looked at him skeptically, crossing her arms as she processed the implications. “And what does he want in return? Stiles wouldn’t offer something this big without payment. Even if he’s warming your bed,” she teased, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, I still can’t believe it’s been a year since you brought that kid into our lives. Or that you’ve managed to last that long without messing it up.”
Peter gave a smug grin, as though he’d expected the question. Of course, Stiles wanted something out of it. He might be doing this out of love for his family and friends, but he also had something else Peter loved—a way to secure something he wanted in return. Stiles wasn’t a pushover; he wouldn’t just hand over his services without gaining some benefit himself.
“He simply wants the freedom to operate without interference. No pack obligations, no alpha commands. He’s protecting himself as much as he’s protecting us. And honestly, as long as he’s with me, he’s in the pack by default anyway,” Peter said, now pulling out one of his desk drawers, ready to change the subject and get back to more important business.
In truth, Peter would rather leave this certain business for another day—at least let the dust settle. After all, he had just taken an alpha spark, and even if he played it down for his sister, he knew Stiles and Talia were right.
There would be consequences for it. Other packs would notice, and some would be more than cocky enough to try challenging him for it.
But that would have to be a problem he dealt with when it arose.
For now, he had to deal with more pressing issues—like the bitch wolf who had broken into his office.
“That’s true,” Talia hummed thoughtfully, watching as Peter pulled out a stack of papers. She took them easily as Peter passed them over, her eyes immediately scanning through them.
Her eyes widened as she took in the contents. “What the hell is this?” she snarled, her rage from earlier coming back in full force, her eyes snapping up to Peter, blazing red.
Peter’s jaw clenched, his lips forming a thin, grim line. “A list of demands,” he said, his voice deadly cold. “Seems the Desert Wolf managed to sneak into the bar while I was away.” A growl slipped from his lips at the thought of someone being able to break into his own bar.
“How is that even possible?” Talia snapped, scanning over the papers again. Peter had found them the moment he’d returned from Greece; the second he stepped into the office, he’d caught Corinne’s scent. The bitch had deliberately left it there—a show of mocking arrogance that she’d invaded his space.
But at the time, Peter hadn’t had time to deal with it, nor was he about to chase her down. The witches and Marcus problem had taken priority. Besides, what she was claiming was absurd.
As if he’d believe she had given birth to his daughter from a one-night stand years ago. Even if she did have a child now and wasn’t bluffing, that didn’t mean the kid was his. Until she provided proof beyond a doubt that she really had kept his daughter hidden from him, she was a fool to think he’d just give in to her demands to secure the child’s safety.
No, he’d simply take the child and kill the Desert Wolf. And unlike Marcus, it wouldn’t be a slow death…
He’d rip her to shreds.
Talia gasped, bringing him out of his thoughts. “Wait…” she whispered in horror. Ah, Peter thought, she’s reached the last part.
“She’s claiming to have given birth to your daughter!” she hissed, her wide eyes looking at him in shock and utter panic.
⸻
It had been a week since Peter had shown his sister the list of demands from the Desert Wolf, who claimed to have given birth to Peter’s daughter. The child would be about two years old by now, but Peter still doubted she was his.
He’d sent two messages to Corinne that week, stating the same thing each time: none of her ridiculous demands would be met until he had met the child and had undeniable proof that she was his.
Now that he had an alpha spark, that would be easy enough to determine—if the pup were truly his, his wolf would instantly recognize her as his own and attempt to form a pack bond.
Corinne knew this. She would have already heard about Peter’s recent “upgrade” to alpha status, which meant her bluff would unravel the moment he met the child. Peter suspected that was exactly why she was refusing to let him meet her, instead sending both his betas back nearly beaten to death, threatening to kill the child if he didn’t comply with her demands.
This only confirmed Peter’s suspicions further. He was convinced Corinne was keeping the child out of his sight in a desperate attempt to hide the truth. His sister, Talia, didn’t see it that way; she believed Corinne was simply afraid that Peter would take the child by force if they met.
But Talia didn’t know Corinne like he did. Corinne was cold and ruthless, and Peter had no doubt that she didn’t care about the child’s welfare.
He suspected the only reason Corinne had carried the pregnancy to term was to use the child as leverage. Corinne had a history of moving from one place to another, preying on different packs and individuals, always claiming a connection or debt that didn’t exist. She was a parasite, threatening and scheming her way into what she wanted. At least half a dozen packs—and more than a few supernatural factions—had put out hits on her.
This latest ploy reeked of desperation. Peter was certain Corinne was bluffing about the child’s parentage, leveraging the supposed danger to extort his pack for money and rare magical items—things she likely intended to use to shield herself from the consequences of her actions.
Stiles, however, had a different theory. He refused to speculate yet on whether the child was truly Peter’s, as that would be determined once they retrieved her. But he firmly believed Corinne intended to harm the child.
When Stiles reviewed the list of demands, one detail stood out: Corinne had referenced a book containing spells for transferring power through sacrificial rituals.
Werecoyotes, Stiles knew, passed a portion of their spark to their offspring at birth. This was why werecoyotes were so rare—most didn’t have children, and if they did, they usually had only one, to preserve as much of their power as possible. Corinne’s daughter, however, would be an anomaly. If the child’s father was a werewolf, she would be a hybrid, draining more of her mother’s spark than a typical offspring.
This theory only deepened Peter’s suspicions. If Corinne’s power had been substantially diminished by the birth, she would be furious. She was a woman who valued nothing above her own strength. A small loss of power, she might tolerate—if the child could serve her schemes.
But if this child had taken half her spark, Peter had no doubt Corinne would kill the girl in a heartbeat to reclaim what was lost.
And the book she needed to perform the ritual correctly—without endangering her own life—was in the possession of the Hale pack.
The book was priceless, a collection of spells spanning hundreds of years, many of them so dangerous they could decimate entire supernatural species. It had been a Hale family treasure for generations, never once considered for sale, far too perilous to fall into the wrong hands. Peter couldn’t fathom how Corinne had even learned of its existence. To his knowledge, the only people in the pack who knew about the book were himself and Talia.
When Peter shared this with Stiles, the younger man had frowned, his expression scrunched up in that uniquely intense way he got when deep in thought. Then realization hit, and Stiles had asked if Deaton could have known about it.
Peter had nearly slapped himself for not reaching that conclusion earlier. Of course.
When he brought the theory to Talia, her grim expression confirmed it—she had told Deaton about the book.
Peter had snarled in anger, hissing at his sister that he had warned her this very thing would happen. Letting Deaton live was always going to come back to bite them. The druid knew far too much about their pack’s secrets and was now free to give them out as he pleased.
Talia had snapped back that he had no proof it was Deaton who had leaked the information to the Desert Wolf. This led to a screaming match between the two before Laura and Derek finally stepped in, cornering their mother by siding with Peter.
Even without hard evidence, they argued, Deaton was the most obvious suspect, and he needed to be dealt with before the risk to the pack’s safety became even more severe.
But Talia had only dug her heels in further at this, clearly angered that her children would take Peter’s side over hers, too blind to see that the man she’d considered a close friend for years could betray her pack so deeply.
After that, Peter had stormed out of the pack house. He loved his sister—he really did—but this Deaton situation was becoming a bigger problem than Peter wanted to deal with. He knew it was inevitable, that it would eventually cause damage to the pack—damage so catastrophic it could take years to recover from, or even destroy them entirely.
And if that happened, Peter knew, deep down, he wouldn’t be able to forgive his sister. There were many things he could let slide, but allowing an ongoing threat to their pack to remain unchecked was not one of them.
But for now… he’d decided to let it go and play nice with his sister. This was more on Stiles’s advice than his own willingness to do so. Stiles agreed with Peter—Deaton needed to be dealt with. He had no love for the druid and would gladly see him dead.
However, Stiles’s main focus this week had been on the little girl and the danger she faced the longer she was left in her mother’s hands.
Peter still didn’t believe the child was his, but even so, he agreed they couldn’t allow the little pup to remain in the care of the Desert Wolf. She clearly wanted to kill the girl to reclaim her power, and while Peter was no saint, even he drew the line at harming children.
The fact that Corinne clearly craved power had sparked an idea from Stiles—an offer so tempting that the greedy bitch wouldn’t risk losing it, even if it was potentially a trap.
Peter hated the idea himself but couldn’t deny it would probably work in their favor.
So that night, Peter sent yet another messenger to Corinne, but this time with new terms—his own terms. His alpha spark for the girl. Stiles would perform the ritual himself, and she could even bring her own magic user to ensure there was no foul play. This way, everyone wins—Peter gets his so-called daughter, and Corinne gains more power than she lost.
No one was surprised when the beta returned with a date and time for when Corinne wanted the deal to take place.