Chapter 32: The Weight of Secrets

The Hale House fight tremors radiated through the Preserve, a low, guttural vibration that only those sensitive to the supernatural could truly sense. Scott, even from afar, sensed it in his bones, a primordial vibration of two dominant Alphas tearing into each other. He knew, with a queasy certainty, that this was Derek and Peter. The war had started.

Stiles was frantic, pacing the Sheriff's station like a caged animal. "This is bad, Scott. Bad as in, 'end of Beacon Hills as we know it' bad. Derek's going to reveal everything. Peter's going to completely lose it. And we're stuck in the middle of it all, still trying to determine who the Darach's next target is.

Damien, always serene, observed them. "Their battle was bound to happen. It simply hastens our schedule." His golden eyes were deep and ancient with understanding. "Peter Hale is a whirlwind of chaos. Derek Hale, while motivated by revenge, desires order. Their collision will necessitate decisions. And it will uncover much.

Scott felt the old tug of fear, but under that, building resentment. Peter had bitten him, thrust him into this nightmare world. He had pulled them strings, manipulated them with threats. He was a monster. But he was all they had to tell them about the Darach, for the time being. And Derek. Derek was a rageful stranger, accusing him, asking questions they couldn't answer.

We still can't tell Derek about Peter," Scott said, his tone strained. "Not yet. Peter's cooperating with us on the Darach. And if Derek attacks Peter now, Beacon Hills will suffer for it.

"Too late, dude," Stiles moaned, scrubbing his hand across his face. "The crossfire's already arrived. That battle… that was *not* subtle. Anyone with a functioning set of ears within a ten-mile radius probably just heard that."

---

While Peter Hale, having divorced himself of his initial, brutal battle with Derek, fell back into the depths of the Preserve. Derek proved more powerful than he had expected, driven by sheer, unbridled anger. Peter realized he could not best Derek in an outright fight, not yet. He needed to manipulate the board, employ his pawns. And his personal favorite pawn was Scott McCall.

He discovered Scott afterward that afternoon, sitting by himself in the locker room following an especially brutal lacrosse practice. Peter's aroma, a shivering combination of smoke and raw Alpha strength, permeated the air before he made his presence known.

"Tough practice, Beta?" Peter's tone was a low, taunting purr out of the darkness, making Scott flinch. He emerged into the light, eyes glowing red, a predator's grin on his mouth.

Scott tensed naturally, claws starting to come out. "What do you want, Peter?"

"Only what's best for you," Peter replied, pacing around him gradually. "And for this town. That hotheaded cousin of mine, Derek, he's returned. And he's attempting to ruin everything. He believes he knows what's going on, but he's merely a child playing with matches. He doesn't realize the bigger game. The Darach's endgame. Or *your* potential."

He halted before Scott, his eyes intense. "I created you, Scott. I granted you this ability. You owe me. And at the moment, what I require of you is that you keep out of Derek's path. He's going to be trouble. He's going to get individuals injured. And if you affiliate with him, you'll become a target as well. A helpless Beta, in an Alphas' war.

Peter's voice was hypnotic, working on Scott's most primal fears: that he would hurt people, that he would lose control, that he would lose himself to the power that still felt so foreign inside of him. "You're a Beta, Scott. Derek is a fool. I can teach you control. I can teach you how to keep you alive through this. But you must pick which side you're on.". And if you select him… well, a loose Beta is quick to cull. You know that, don't you?

"

Scott's breath caught. He felt Peter's compulsion, a cold whisper creeping into his head, urging him to fear Derek, to hold onto Peter for protection. But another voice, a softer one, screamed back. Peter was the beast. Peter was the one who had stolen his normal life.

--- And across town, another sort of tension was building. Chris Argent sat on the couch, watching the local news coverage with a furrowed brow. Another "animal attack." But something about the details wasn't right, the ritualistic undertones clear to a trained observer. His daughter Allison was settling into a new school, and he didn't want her harmed. But something was deeply off in Beacon Hills.

The air was thick, the shadows appeared to grow longer, and the whispers of ancient family legend seemed uncomfortably near.

He entered the den where his father, Gerard Argent, was polishing an antique crossbow. Gerard, a man whose eyes contained the frigid, calculating experience of several generations of hunters, simply growled.

"Another one," Chris declared, nodding toward the television.

Gerard did not look up. "The beast is out, Chris. Or something different altogether. Your sister, Kate, would have known what to do." The mention of Kate, who had gone missing a while back, left a sour taste in Chris's mouth. Kate's ways were too extreme, too indiscriminate.

"This is different, Dad," Chris kept saying. "More structured. The patterns… it's not an animal.

Gerard finally raised his eyes, his eyes keen. "Then we adapt, Chris. We discover it. And we pursue it. The purpose of our family has never wavered. Not even when beasts invade our backyard." He looked pointedly down the hallway where Allison was walking. "Be sure to keep Allison close. She's new to the fold. Foreign to the land. And… a child from our lineage is always a target for real power."

Chris's jaw clenched. He knew the legacy, the risks. But he wanted Allison to have a normal life, to be a normal teenager. He hoped his father's words were mere old hunter paranoia. He had no idea how prophetic they actually were, nor how soon his daughter would be irrevocably pulled into the same hunt he was trying to protect her from. The Darach, on the other hand, was getting ready for her second-to-last ritual. The student victim was only a warm-up, a trial of the ley lines. The next stage needed stronger power, a stronger connection to the land itself. She had to bring out the primal power, luring the supernatural horrors of Beacon Hills into frenzy. And for her last, most powerful sacrifice, she already had in mind the type of bloodline she would require. One whose mere presence was a gateway to ancient power, a lineage that contained the very balance she aimed to break.

A line that would soon experience the horrifying brunt of the Nemeton's stirring.---