Chapter Text
The farmhouse appeared in the distance, a relief to Stiles' restless body. She had been cooped up in this car for days now, and although she was exhausted from lack of sleep, her body just wanted out of this vehicle so she could start her new life, and get over the trauma that had been her mistake of a marriage.
If Deputy Parrish didn't hurry and get them to that house, Stiles was going to jump out of the car herself. She actually did jump and flail when Deputy Parrish’s hand gently landed on hers, her heart in her throat.
“Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly. “You just looked like you were going to throw yourself out of the car any minute.”
Stiles huffed at her father’s deputy, crossing her arms over her chest. “You would be too if you were stuck on the road for four days with only a few pit stops and stops to sleep. Did I really have to be banished to Canada to be kept safe?”
Parrish huffed right back at her. “You know we have to hide you to keep you safe. McCall was a federal agent and still has contacts. He’s dangerous, and until we can catch him, we need you somewhere he can’t reach you."
“And I understand that, but Canada? Seriously? I've never even seen snow before. What if I’m allergic?” Stiles complained, swinging her arms in the air while she gestured.
Parrish scoffed. “No one is allergic to snow, Stiles.”
“You don’t know that. I could be the first person ever to be allergic to snow!” she grumbled.
Parrish turned into the long driveway, ignoring her last outburst, knowing when she was arguing just to argue. She’d spent enough time at the station for him to get to know her decently well. “I’ll be staying for a few days just to help you get settled. Someone from the Hale pack will be keeping guard over you. They own not only this farm, but another one hundred acres connected to it. Claudine should be meeting us to help with the house and property lines as well as what’s available in the area. She’s Talia’s real estate agent.”
Stiles fell silent, wondering how her life had become this complicated. She was on the run from her psychotic, abusive ex-husband, who also happened to be her best friend’s dad. With the wolf pack sending her away on some witness-protection program type crap. The same wolf pack who had taken her best friend Scott in after he’d been bitten by a rogue alpha, and by default had adopted her in as pack human.
She knew she had no one else to blame but herself. Well, that wasn't true. She could, and would, blame Rafael McCall for the beatings and the abuse, but inside she blamed herself. If there hadn't been something wrong with her, maybe he wouldn't have taken advantage of her. Maybe it wouldn't have taken her so long to realize what was happening, and escape.
Her only salvation had been her pack. Scott had accepted her back after she had pushed them all away, Rafael making her think that it had been her choice to do so. And when she came back bruised and bloodied, she had expected nothing but judgment and to be turned away, but she’d been desperate and had nowhere else to go.
She never expected for Scott to forgive her for doing something as horrible as marrying his father. She never expected for him and the rest of the pack to wrap her in their arms, whining at her pain. She certainly hadn't expected for them to cry with her when she finally broke down and admitted to the shame that had become her life. When her father welcomed her back with open arms, she had felt hope for the first time in a long, long time.
However, that hope was soon extinguished when Agent McCall went missing after a warrant was put out for his arrest, an arrest that was not just issued because of her abuse, but for multiple charges that Stiles had managed to slowly get proof of. Agent McCall was definitely a bad cop, and he had been bought easily.
That was why the pack, as well as her father, had all agreed that sending Stiles to hide away on one of the pack’s properties on the east coast of Canada was a damn good idea, much to Stiles’ horror.
Whining and barking started in the back seat when they finally stopped the car in front of the farmhouse, which was really a barn that had been converted into a house. A woman walked out of the door, waving at them.
“I bet you guys can’t wait to stretch your legs either, huh?” Stiles smiled at Esme and Henry, her two miniature poodles, who were sitting in the back tethered to the seatbelts. Esme was not named after the character from Twilight, no matter what people thought, much to Stiles’ frustration. It meant ‘loved’ in French.
Stiles got out of the car and opened the back door to unbuckle the dogs and clip a leash onto each of them, while Parrish moved to shake the woman’s hand, who turned out to be Claudine.
When Stiles finally got the dogs out of the car and closed the door, Claudine approached her, hand extended, ignoring the dogs barking at her feet.
“You must be Stiles. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said with a thick French accent.
Stiles nodded, giving her a small smile, trying to be sociable even though she felt far from it.
“I hope your trip over was good. Let me give you a small tour of the house and the property, then I'll get out of your hair so you can unpack,” she said with a bright smile, like she was actually excited to be showing them the place. Maybe she was just naturally perky, but it baffled Stiles, who wanted to both go for a run and crash after the long drive.
Stiles started with the house, which, surprisingly for a Hale-owned house, wasn't too big. She could handle cleaning the space and living in it.
The main entrance walked into the kitchen, which was a huge open-concept space with hardwood floors. It had up-to-date appliances, including a dishwasher, stove, refrigerator, microwave, a deep freezer, and a large pantry which was stocked full. In the back was office space and a mudroom with a raised tub for grooming her dogs. Apparently the previous owner had been a groomer. Just outside there was a clothesline and a small empty chicken coop. Upstairs were two small bedrooms and a large living room area. Everything was furnished and perfectly cleaned. She had a niggling feeling that the Hales had made sure the place was newly furnished and stocked with food, just for her arrival.
Stiles was surprisingly really liking the place. She could see herself making a safe haven here, even more so when Claudine showed her the barns and shed. The cow barn was filled with square bales and some old farming equipment, but needed a good cleaning out if it was ever to be used again. The other barn was newer and had a covered riding arena and large box stalls. It had originally been used to give riding lessons. It still had all the fencing and a round pen. The shed right next to the house was just as big as the first floor of the house. That space in particular intrigued her.
Stiles turned to Parrish and asked curiously, “I wonder how expensive it would be to set this up as a dance studio so I could keep practicing?”
Stiles had been taking dance and gymnastic lessons since she was little, her mother encouraging her to use exercise to help cope with her ADHD. That was the hardest thing about the move; giving up her dance classes, which had become her coping mechanism in her abusive relationship, and one of the lifelines she kept to the memory of her mother.
“Talia advised me that any changes you wish to do to the property can be handled directly through me. I was given access to the Hale funds to do so. She wants you to be comfortable and safe here,” Claudine answered.
Stiles gaped at Claudine, shocked, and for once unable to come up with anything to say.
“There’s also a local gym that you might be interested in. Talia asked me to look into a few things for you that might help your move be more comfortable. The gym is called Ferocious. It’s a girls-only gym that offers Zumba, burlesque, aerial, and cardio, as well as pole dancing. The staff is really good; they enter competitions and place every time. They won provincial and national awards last year for pole. I’ve left you my business card, as well as a few pamphlets and maps for different things in the area that might interest you, on the kitchen table. If you’re interested in getting the shed converted, just give me a call, and I can get some people in to work on it for you as soon as possible.”
Stiles nodded, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “Are there any trails around here where I can run?”
Claudia smiled and nodded. “As a matter of fact, you have your own personal trail. Right down the old cow pasture to your left, there’s a trail that starts at the gravel pit and goes through the woods. There are over one hundred acres owned by the Hales. The trails themselves just circle over themselves back to the main trail, so you can’t get lost, but I do have a map in your package on the kitchen table.”
She turned to Parrish and grinned. “I’m taking the dogs for a run.”
Parrish raised a brow, clearly not impressed. “We just got here. Shouldn't you be unpacking and heading for bed? Besides, we don’t know if the trails are safe.”
Stiles scoffed. “I need to burn off some energy before I’ll be able to sleep, and so do the dogs. Come on. Claudia says the trails are safe, and I can’t get lost. I'll grab the map. It’ll be fine!”
Parrish sighed as if he knew he would regret what he was about to say. “You have one hour. Be back by then, or I’m going out there looking for you.”
Stiles rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dad.”
It only took her a few minutes to change into her running gear. She had a pair of spandex leggings, and a red sports bra with a tank top over it that said ‘Training to be Batman.’ It was one of the many geeky training tanks she owned. Her white and neon orange sneakers finished the outfit, and she was ready to head out.
After a few stretches, she let her dogs loose and slipped her favorite pair of noise-reducing headphones on. Putting her running playlist on, she set off to explore the trail.
~*~
Peter half listened to his sister on speakerphone while she went on about a girl who was under pack protection, asking Laura and himself to keep guard over her. He wasn't a babysitter, no matter what his alpha thought. Laura could handle whatever tedious request his alpha sister was demanding. Besides, in the last few years he had become the one who apparently needed the babysitter, if the string of pack members who rotated their visits among themselves was any indication.
Peter still felt bitter over what his sister called, ‘time to cool his heels in order to prevent a war.’ He called it banishment, especially after ten years.
His idiot of a nephew had gotten involved with a hunter who had used him to get access to the pack house. Thankfully, the majority of the family had managed to escape, but not all of them. His wife and unborn child, and the human pack members, as well as some of the younger pups, had perished in the fire.
The bitch had gotten away, and Peter was refused his right as her second to exact revenge. The worst of it was that he was still alive. If his wife had been his true mate, he would have died with her, and that enraged him more than anything else. That the fates would be so cruel as to not only take his wife and child away from him, but also deny him the right to die at their side.
Peter kept his features schooled and his exterior calm, knowing that his family thought him unstable and liable to snap at any moment. He wasn't close to doing any such thing. He was filled with silent determination to get his revenge, even if it meant going against his alpha’s orders.
He slowly rose from the chair he had previously occupied, and made his way towards the door, having had enough tedious conversation for one evening.
“Uncle Peter, where are you going?” Laura huffed, cutting Talia off mid-sentence.
“I’m going out for a run to enjoy this glorious day before it ends,” Peter cheerfully bit out, not quite hiding the sarcasm.
“Peter, I wasn't done speaking,” Talia chastised over the phone.
“Yes, dear sister, Laura is more than capable of keeping an eye on this girl, since we both know that you all think me unstable and therefore unsafe to be around said girl. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going out for a run.”
He left, closing the door softly behind him with restraint when what he really wanted to do was slam it so hard it shook the house.
He shed his clothing at the door, folding it and setting it on the porch swing before letting the change come over him. His body slowly fell forward onto all fours, until a slate grey wolf stood in his place. He shook his coat out before loping into the forest.
Alpha wolves who could transform into full wolves were rare. Betas were even more so. His sister Talia was respected, and most times almost revered, for the ability.
Peter was a wolf who had been born to be an alpha, but had submitted to his sister and accepted the position of second within the pack. However, although he now might be a beta, he’d never lost the ability to fully shift into a wolf. He knew this was part of the reason for his exile after the fire. She feared what he was capable of, if he decided to turn on her.
Shifting to full wolf form was now one of the rare true joys left in his life. On many occasions, he had the urge to just leave everything behind, become fully one with his wolf, and live out in the forest, but then Peter remembered that he enjoyed the finer things in life too much to be roughing it out in the woods for the rest of his life.
Since his sister had exiled him, he took utmost delight in spending as much of her money as he could on expensive wine, Egyptian cotton sheets, expensive electronic toys, and anything else that caught his fancy. He couldn't do that if he was stuck as a wolf.
He let the rush of adrenaline take him over while he pushed his body into a hard run, allowing his mind to clear and his wolf to take over. It howled in triumph, taking in its surroundings and the scents and sounds around it. It reveled in the exertion, flushing rabbits out of their dens, taking chase after a deer while nipping at its heels, but not taking it down. His wolf was feeling restless and playful, not hungry.
After letting the deer get away, he loped down to the stream, dipping his muzzle into the cool refreshing water for a drink. One of the positive things about the move to Canada was that the water here was as of yet unpolluted and delicious. Who needed bottled water when you could drink out of a pure fresh stream?
Barking in the distance set him on alert, his hackles rising. He heard the slap of running feet and throbbing base-line music — someone was in his territory, and not being silent about it. He didn't have to worry about it being hunters with that noise, but anyone unknown in his territory left him unsettled.
With a low growl he set off to see who was making all that noise in his forest. Remaining hidden by the foliage and downwind, so the dogs wouldn't catch his scent, he slowly made his way toward the very loud runner. When he finally caught her scent over the dogs, it took everything he had to rein in his wolf as it surged forward in triumph, wanting to howl in pure joy.
Peter’s eyes widened in horror while he struggled to hold his body in place, panting and whining while his wolf fought for supremacy. Every fiber of his being screamed, “Mine! Mate!”
His eyes fell on her when she came into view on the trail. Her long coltish legs were the first thing he noticed, followed by her small waist and the pert breasts covered by her Batman tank top and sports bra. His eyes then fell on her mouth, and his own opened in a silent snarl of frustration. She had a mouth made for fucking. Plump red lips that she worried with her teeth even as she ran, leaving them swollen. The moles and freckles on her face and body begged to be traced with his tongue. Her hair was buzzed short as if in defiance, and that puzzled and entranced him. What would it take for him to convince her to grow her hair back so he could wrap his fingers in the locks and pull her head back to bare her neck?
He forced himself backward and away from the woman — no, his mate — forcefully, the violence of his reaction to her shaking him to the core. Since his wife had died, Peter had gone to the city and bars a few times to sate his needs; after all he was a man and a wolf, but nothing prepared him for the violence of his need for his mate.
Pushing himself into a run toward the cabin, he finally let the small niggling detail he had been ignoring, due to the shock of finding his mate, come to the surface.
Why did his mate smell like pack?