Derek barged into the pack’s conference room, anger rolling off him in waves.

  The look of disappointment that flickered across his father’s face didn’t faze him; if anything, it irritated him more.

  His old man should have known better—should have known he wouldn’t be pleased about merging their pack with another, least of all Arnold’s, not even for ten seconds.

  “Oh, if it isn’t my favorite nephew,” his uncle drawled.

  Derek scoffed, jaw tightening. One day, he’d repay that tone. He just needed the right moment.

  “Hello, Uncle,” he forced out through gritted teeth, giving a stiff nod as he fought to keep his temper on a tight leash.

  “Hello, nephew. Where have you been? We’ve been searching everywhere for you,” Arnold added with a smug smirk, clearly pleased to see Derek boiling.

  “I’ve been around,” Derek answered flatly before turning to his father.

  “Evening, Father.” His voice was taut, his fingers curling at his sides as he held himself back from saying everything he truly wanted to. Losing control now wouldn’t help him; he needed his father to listen.

  “I think you should be more worried about his pack warriors,” Maru murmured in his head.

  “Why?” Derek asked inwardly, brows creasing. If he could stop the merger, the warriors would leave with Arnold.

  “Well, for one, you can’t convince your father. Your mother definitely tried. If he didn’t listen to his mate, he won’t listen to you. You should focus on protecting the interests of your own pack members, not on changing his mind—it’s made up.”

  Maru’s words hit hard. Derek exhaled slowly. His wolf was right.

  His mother must have tried. And failed. Which meant she sent him here to manage what she couldn’t—set boundaries, keep the peace, prepare their people.

  “Derek, where have you been?” Peter finally asked, confusion creasing his features. “Clem said he hasn’t seen you since you two left school. And I haven’t since you left the sitting room hours ago.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “I went to hunt.”

  “Alright.” Peter leaned back in his chair with a tense exhale.

  Meanwhile, Arnold’s eyes tracked Derek like a hawk.

  The man took in his clothes—clean, unrumpled, untouched by the forest. No trace of dirt. No sweat. No kill. The boy was lying. And Peter was letting him get away with it.

  “How was the hunt then?” Arnold.

  “Good,” Derek replied simply. His expression didn’t even twitch. He refused to give Arnold the satisfaction.

  “Oh, wonderful,” Arnold said brightly, too brightly, pushing irritation deeper into Derek’s bones.

  “Alright, back to the issue at hand,” Peter cut in, stopping the wordless clash between his brother and his son. Those two had been at odds since forever. He didn’t know why—and now wasn’t the time to find out.

  “Derek, have a seat,” he said, gesturing toward the sofa.

  “No, Father. I’m fine standing,” Derek crossed his arms in a solid stance, gaze fixed sharply on him.

  “Very well,” Peter sighed before continuing. “Your beta or gamma must have informed you of my recent proclamation, yes?”

  “Yes, they did. But I don’t understand why it’s so sudden. We agreed the pack meeting would come first before letting the visitors in.”

  “True, but there is no time. Training needs to begin immediately, and since he already arrived with them, I let them in,” Peter explained, rubbing his palms together.

  “He already came with them? Where? I didn’t see them. I didn’t even smell them,” Derek fired back, shock surging through him. How had that happened?

  “Well… that’s an art we may need to learn from them. The art of camouflage,” Peter said with a weak smile.

  “Camouflage?” Derek barked. “Father, that’s witchcraft, and you know it!”

  His voice rose as he stepped forward, anger sparking hot. Only witches used potions to hide scents—and witches never gave free favors. His mother had told him enough about the last pack war to know better.

  “Enough, Derek. I won’t have you disrespect me in front of your uncle. I am still your Alpha,” Peter thundered, his voice resonating with authority. “We are joining forces with them. That is final. Choose our best warriors—Leo included—and the ones who will join the Wind Winders pack. They leave tomorrow.”

  Derek’s mouth opened, then snapped shut. His father’s use of the Alpha voice sealed it. There was no arguing, no persuading. Maru had been right all along.

  His uncle’s smirk widened, dark and triumphant. Derek hated it. He had always hated it.

  “What about Mother?” Derek asked quietly, turning back to his father—his last desperate lever.

  “She already knows,” Peter replied, but his tone softened. His mate hadn’t accepted it, but he had to proceed. Arnold had him trapped, and until he understood what happened to Sheila… he had no choice.

  “So get to it. Start by welcoming our visitors. Then call a pack meeting,” Peter added, pushing aside the worry clawing at him.

  Derek gave a firm nod. There was nothing else to do now.

  “So who’s in charge of your pack warriors?” he asked his uncle.

  “I am,” a voice answered from behind him.