The conventional darkening of the sky at that hour, coupled with his inability to fully capture a clear pictorial view of his mother standing less than five feet in front of him, enlightened Derek to the fact that the time was already around 7:30 p.m., since the moon wasn’t really out yet.

  He was hungry—but he knew it was the wrong moment to broach such a trivial topic. There were far more important matters looming; like, for example, the drama that would inevitably ensue at the pack house in a matter of minutes if his uncle was still around.

  He knew his cousin would throw a fit if she encountered her father now, her anger still raw and undiluted—still hot, like a can of concentrated acid, capable of burning anything or anyone unfortunate enough to cross its path.

  For that, however, he couldn’t blame her. In truth, he pitied her—even though she had been the one to report to her father that his mate was a human.

  “She went to see Arnold?” he heard his mother ask worriedly.

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s go then. We have to stop her from doing that,” she stated, spinning around with remarkable speed before striding out of the garden in long, determined steps.

  “Why?” Derek quickly followed after her, matching her long strides.

  “It would make Arnold smarter,” she answered monotonously, without slowing.

  “Smarter?” Derek echoed, confusion knitting his brows. “How?”

  From his own perspective, Maya meeting her father now felt like the best possible outcome—it would expose the demon to his father, who foolishly regarded the former as a saint, even a savior.

  “Well,” his mother began evenly, “seeing that we’ve already uncovered the truth about his spying venture through Maya, he would stop involving her in his future plans concerning the two packs. And if that happens, we would be left in the dark again—which puts us in a worse position.

  “But if we stop Maya and convince her to be on our side…”

  “…we’d be enlightened through her whenever he makes new plans or alters the old ones.” Derek completed.

  A smile tugged at his lips at the cleverness of his mother. “You’re really good, Mom.”

  “I think it’s a great idea. It wouldn’t be bad to use Maya for our cause this time. I know she’d agree, seeing it as a chance to redeem herself and earn our forgiveness for the wrongs she committed against us.”

  A smirk slowly took shape on his lips as he spoke.

  Melvina came to an abrupt halt. Her son had misunderstood her.

  “What’s the matter, Mom?”

  “We are not using your cousin,” she said, resuming her steps, though much slower this time.

  “I don’t understand,” Derek’s confusion deepened.

  “We are not using Maya,” she replied firmly. “We are helping her.”

  The poor girl needs help, not another round of usage and neglect.

  “But… you just said—” Derek started, only to be cut off.

  “Yes, I know what I said,” Melvina interrupted calmly. “But I didn’t mean it the way you’re thinking.”

  She continued, her tone resolute. “We will stop her from meeting her father because if she does, he might disown her, and that could turn her into a rogue. Secondly, it won’t help us either, because Arnold would become more secretive.”

  She paused briefly, letting the weight of her words settle. “So we have to forgive your cousin. You especially. We must sincerely show her the love she believed she didn’t deserve, while helping her understand that her anger won’t serve any of us now. She will choose to work with us on her own. Your cousin needs love and genuine care—not another round of usage.”

  Derek tapped his nose thoughtfully, deliberating on his mother’s words. As always, he knew she was right.

  He couldn’t help thinking that his father had been incredibly lucky to be mated to such a wise and compassionate woman. And inevitably, his thoughts drifted to his little witch—wondering if she would one day possess the same wisdom.

  “Our mate is alright,” Maru said, responding directly to his thoughts.

  “She will do what is right when the time comes.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Though Derek doubted his wolf slightly—mainly because his little witch was human and completely unaware of their world, let alone their problems—he still nodded faintly in acknowledgment.

  That was when he noticed his mother had stopped walking again.

  She stood directly in front of him now, unmoving.

  “Mom…” he called, glancing around. They had reached the entrance of the main pack house. “What’s wrong?”

  “Your father just mind-linked me,” she whispered.

  Derek’s eyes widened. Had his cousin finally done it?

  He hoped not.

  He hoped the quietness that still blanketed the pack was genuine, and not the result of an Alpha’s forceful mind-link—one used to hush his pack members into silence.

  At a moment like this, he earnestly wished his little sister had grown up. If she had, she would have been able to give him a detailed rundown of whatever was unfolding in the main pack house at that very moment.

  But no, Eva was still only five, far too young to communicate through the pack link. She had to be at least fifteen.

  Although, ironically, he himself had been able to communicate through the pack link at just nine years old.

  He still remembered how he had bristled in shock the first time his father’s voice echoed inside his mind as the older man announced an urgent meeting through the pack link. Rogues had been trespassing their boundaries back then.

  At first, Derek had ignored the voice, convinced it was only his imagination. But as time passed and the voice returned, clearer and more insistent, he had finally told his mother.

  She had found the entire thing exciting—fascinating even—though not before carefully masking her shock and wonder behind a sharp, quick-witted smile.

  She had taken him straight to his father and Agrip, who had been discussing pack matters in the conference room at the time. His father had been shocked beyond description, while Agrip had calmly opined that Derek’s wolf might be a Lycan.

  Even as a little boy, Derek had understood what that meant.

  Lycans were a rare species of werewolves—stronger, sharper, and often gifted with one or two additional abilities.

  “Derek!”

  He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of his mother’s voice.

  Judging by the exasperated look on her face, he knew it wasn’t the first time she had called him.

  “Yes, Mom,” he replied, forcing his mind to steady itself—to stop jumping back and forth through time. “What did Father say?”

  “He said we should get to the pack house immediately,” Melvina replied as she resumed walking. “Maya wants to tell him something—after he shouted at her for tearing down the painting Arnold brought earlier.”

  As she spoke, her steps quickened. She needed to stop Maya from telling her mate anything.

  Melvina loved her mate deeply, but lately, he had been making unwise decisions—choices that unsettled her greatly, even though she often masked her discomfort. She had already decided she would handle this situation herself, alongside her son and her niece.

  “Oh… okay,” Derek muttered, falling into step behind her.

  He was relieved that his cousin hadn’t spoken yet—and oddly pleased that she had torn down the ridiculous painting.

  A faint smile tugged at his lips as he imagined the look on his father’s face when he had witnessed the act.

  –

  “Good. You’re here—with Derek. Peter said, the moment he spotted them stepping into the wide, official room.

  “Maya, speak.” He gestured toward the still-angry girl as he took a seat on the cushion closest to the wall, his blue eyes brimming with curiosity and expectation.

  Melvina sighed softly, wondering how to stop this.

  “Maya, speak,” Peter repeated, drumming his fingers against the lush furniture as his patience thinned.

  He pondered what his brother’s first child could possibly want to tell him—something significant enough to justify tearing down the painting Arnold had gifted him.

  Truthfully, he wasn’t particularly bothered by the fake painting of peace that now lay ruined on the floor like a discarded rag. He knew his brother far too well to place any real value on it.

  What intrigued him was his niece.

  He had been utterly stunned when she had stormed into the conference room earlier, anger blazing in her eyes, tear stains still visible on her cheeks.

  He had watched in disbelief as she marched straight to the painting placed at the western corner of the room and tore it cleanly in two—only then turning to acknowledge his presence.

  He had masked his shock then by shouting at her, demanding to know why she had done it.

  He knew she was angry—but he hadn’t known why.

  Now, staring at the furious young woman before him—the same girl he had once played with when she was small and guileless—he wondered what grievance she carried. What truth she intended to reveal.

  And whether it was something he could use against his brother.

  He hoped it was.

  He was tired of being manipulated. Tired of being trapped.

  He was about to prompt her again when he noticed something odd—his son was subtly making signs to Maya with his fingers and eyes.

  His brows drew together as he observed Maya responding with gestures of her own.

  Then he noticed something else.

  His mate wore a small, knowing smile as she watched the silent exchange between the two young chaps.

  It dawned on him then—he was the only one left out.

  And he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  “Maya,” he called again, for the third time. “What is it that you wanted to tell us?”

  “Nothing really, sir,” she replied evenly. “Nothing.”

  She paused, then added, her tone laced with false politeness, “Forgive me for tearing down your lovely painting. I’m simply not happy merging with your pack.”

  But Peter already knew the undertone was fake.

  He had seen the silent communication. The exchanged glances. The hidden coordination.

  There was more—something they didn’t want him to know.

  It stirred his curiosity further, yet he also knew better than to push. His mate would not appreciate it.

  So he leaned back slightly and decided to wait.