Killer | Derek Hale

THAT TYPE OF MURDER

"Hello, everyone."

Scott and Stiles had informed the rest of the pack about their encounter. They all agreed to meet up at an abandoned warehouse that Argent currently resided in. He had apparently made a werewolf proof cage in the basement of the building, which is where they put the girl in.

The rest of the pack showed up and were brought up to date on the situation. They were in the midst of planning right as she woke.

She briefly took in her surroundings before noticing that the group was watching her. She greeted them and pushed herself to her feet.

Scott moved as close as he could to the bars of her cage, "Who are you and what do you want?"

"I thought we already covered that," she said tiredly.

"Yeah your name is Maia and you need Scott to complete a ritual," Stiles stated, "That was just his way of asking if you're dangerous."

"Only when I need to be."

"Stop with the vague answers," a girl demanded.

Maia's eyes shifted to the girl, scanning her features, "Malia Hale, werecoyote."

Malia frowned and crossed her arms, "How do you know me?"

"I know all of you," she stated, "You think I would come to a new town filled with supernatural creatures without knowing everything about them? I'm not an amateur."

She pointedly looked at each person standing in front of her.

"Jordan Parrish, hellhound."

"Chris Argent, hunter. Notorious, by the way."

The man hefted his crossbow.

"Kira Yukimura, kitsune."

"Lydia Martin, Banshee."

"Liam Dunbar, beta werewolf."

He shifted uncomfortably and tried to appear strong but she could see that he was uneasy.

"Peter and Derek Hale, werewolves who were former alphas," she clicked her tongue, "That must suck."

The two both snarled at her. She merely chuckled and continued scanning her eyes over them.

"Stiles Stilinski, human. But the way, what the hell is going on with your first name? It sounds like someone spit up alphabet soup."

He rolled his eyes.

"And Scott McCall, the true alpha."

They all glanced nervously between each other. Their gazes focused on Scott, waiting for his next move.

He inspected her closely, watching as she nonchalantly leaned against the bars. A daring smile rested on her face, as if she was challenging him to move closer.

Malia was tired of waiting, "Look, if she's really an alpha, then her pack has to be around here somewhere. Maybe they can tell us something."

As they had a silent staring contest, Peter's eyes caught the necklace dangling around her neck. He recognized the crest and pulled Scott away from the bars.

"You're an Arceneaux."

Derek's eyes went wide as the familiar name registered in his mind. He turned to his uncle to see if he was lying but the man seemed completely serious, scared almost.

Maia's eyes drifted over to him. She smiled, "Glad to know that at least one of you knows your packs."

"I know alpha packs," Peter corrected, "And yours is the worst of them."