Of course, all hell breaks loose.

Derek shifted instantly, ears turned pointed, canines grew sharp and his whole face turned wolfish, hands became claws. His eyes turned smoldering gold before blood red. The dominant alpha.

Seeing their master enrage so suddenly threw the pups into the change as well. They fell on their hands and knees, the change still new to their bodies, causing them pain.

I stood there, trying to ignore the sudden danger that was screaming at my body to do the same as the other werewolves. I took a deep shuddering breath in attempt to calm myself. I was out numbered and cornered. I needed to think fast before I got my throat ripped out.

Making sure I wasn't shaking, I held out my hand towards the new Alpha. Praying that my slow movements would prevent it from being ripped off.

Derek shifted back to his human form. A frown causing a small crease between his dark eyebrows.

"I've also come, to offer my thanks."

"What are you talking about?" He snapped, causing me to take my hand back.

"What's there not to understand? I'm here to thank you for killing him."

I knew I shouldn't be baiting him, but there was too much tension in my body to remain polite.

"Who are you?" He brought the term 'barked' to a whole new level. I opened my mouth to answer him (again) when he cut me off. "Your real name, I've killed no Alphas named Gray."

I studied him a moment, he was smart at least, maybe there was a chance after all. "Gray's my mother's maiden name. The wolf you killed was Merrick Hunt."

Derek's nostrils flared, memories and recognition flashed in his green eyes. His body somehow became tenser. "And why would you thank me for that?"

I gave him a wry smile. "Can't be that hard to believe, I mean, you did meet the guy."

Derek just scowled at me, not appreciating my weak attempt at humor. I sighed. "Look, I traveled a long way to get here. I sneaked in easy enough and knew I was outnumbered before making myself known. I don't have a death wish so there must be a reason why I told you this. At least hear me out, if you still don't believe me, I'll give you the full go ahead to slash my head off."

I smiled weakly, trying to show him how much I didn't want that to happen. Derek stared at me, once again showing that calculating expression. His gamma wolves panted, still unable to shift back with the adrenaline in their systems. I didn't break eye contact with him, showing my strength at this point was crucial.

Finally, he nodded. "Fine, we'll sit and hear you out." I let out the breath I'd been holding. "Then we'll decide what to do with you."

Upon entering the warehouse I hadn't noticed the huge, broken down tram placed along the far wall. Inside, it appeared the pack had been decorating. The tram seats were ripped off their stations and placed slightly facing each other to create a sort of common room.

It was actually quite cool.

We sat there in silence, as I tried to choose my words carefully. Choose the best phrases to keep me alive. I soon struck on perfection.

"On my birthday, eleven years ago, my father handed me a small box at the kitchen table. The box was wrapped in silver wrapping paper, tied with a purple ribbon. When I opened it, I found a velvet blue box."

I felt every eye in the tram watching me closely. Each gaze a weight on my face as I stared at the ground trying to fight the visual memories back. I smiled sarcastically.

"I was so excited, father had never given me a gift before, it was always my mother who would buy me my birthday presents. My young mind thought that these boxes could only contain expensive and beautiful things. I was so deleriously happy that I didn't notice my mother had grown still, her face as pale as milk and her hands shaking as she cleaned the rest of the dishes. I opened it without caution.

"There were no diamond earrings in that box, know ruby ring or sapphire pendant that my imagination had created seconds before. No, what was inside was a tiny vile.

"I picked it up, the glass was cool and smooth in my fingers, yet the clear liquid inside made my stomach churn.

"'What is it?' I asked uncertainly. Father gazed at me, his gray eyes were cold, menacing. 'Something that will make you stronger my sweet.' I frowned, not understanding his words. That's when mother spoke. Her voice was so frail, it made me break out of whatever happy dream I'd been in that morning. 'Frank...' she whispered. 'Please don't do this...' He ignored her, and focused back on me. 'It will make you stronger my sweet, I promise you. You'll be a better wolf, all you have to do is drink it.'

"The dread was really beginning to settle in. So much so that I nearly dropped the vile. I wish I did. Still not quite understanding what was going on I tried to protest. 'What? I – But - ' 'Drink it!' He roared in my face and I flinched backwards. The fear of him losing his temper was worse than the dread etched deep in the pit of my stomach so... I drank it."

I glanced up. Meeting the eyes of Derek and his pack. Two of the pups were horrified, the other was worse, almost as if my words were breathing life into a nightmare. Derek simply looked troubled.

"It was wolfs bane in the vile," I croaked still tasting the liquid on my tongue, they all flinched. "Not enough to kill me instantly, but enough to poison every organ in my body."

"So he gave you his blood then," Derek spoke for the first time in a good hour. "The bane would have killed you eventually otherwise.

I nodded tightly. "Of course he did, he just waited four hours." I rolled my shoulders trying to release the tension in them. "Four hours of vomiting bile, choking and shaking and muscle spasms as my body attempted to get rid of the poison. Four hours until I finally passed out in my mother's arms. I woke up in my bed two weeks later, barely able to move or speak. My father was standing over me, 'you could have done better sweet heart,' he said and then walked away. And that... was what I remember from my tenth birthday."

I swallowed, trying to fend off the memories of that story. Standing up slowly, I shrugged out of my warn leather jacket and began picking up my hair from my right shoulder before throwing it over my left. I turned my back to them then, and heard with satisfaction their hisses and gasps. With my left hand I reached up and trailed my finger tips along the ugly, raised, scarlet trenches buried in my skin there. Five of them, one for each claw.

"I won't bore you with the details of what he gave me for my eleventh."

Next thing I knew I was being thrown a worn down sleeping bag and led into another one of the trams carriages. This one had mattresses pushed against the walls of it. Three of them.

"You all sleep here?" I asked dubiously. Didn't they have families? Or lives outside the change?

"Not usually," Isaac answered. He seemed to do most of the answering as well as hanging back to walk beside me. "I stay here. Ericka and Dom go home most evenings unless we're training too late, then we just crash here." I wondered where Isaac's 'home' was, why he was the only gamma wolf living here. Instead of prying into the boy's personal life, I changed direction of the question I was about to ask.

"Where does Derek sleep?"

"Next tram up. His room is full of wolf junk – I mean, artifacts from his family." I nodded, telling him I understood. Derek was born a were like me, not bitten and changed chemically. That meant that he's a descendant of the old bloodlines, there are only a few left in the world now. Not that I'll bore you with the history.

Speaking of the devil he marched into the small carriage, flanked be Erika and Dom. He glanced at me and the sleeping bag held in my arms.

"You'll sleep on Ericka's mattress." Boy, did that sentence get me a look of hatred from the only other female in the room. "It's not too late so they're going home."

"Cool, thanks," I inclined my head towards the departing wolves but they ignored me. It's going to take a few days to earn their respect I realised. "What time does training start in the morning?"

Derek arched an eyebrow, damn... I wished I could do that. "You need training?"

I snorted. "I'd like the chance to make myself useful. It'll be quicker training them with two teachers instead of one."

Derek stared at me, as if sizing me up to whether or not I'd be good at training pups. Better than you I thought darkly. Derek had near to zero patience for it. Probably had a bastard of a mentor back when he was their age. Well, not as big a bastard as mine.

"Fine. They get up at five to start warm-ups and do two hours before going to school."

"Great," I tried injecting enthusiasm into my voice but it rang out false. I so wasn't a morning person. "I'll see you all in the morning then."

Dom and Ericka ignored me once again, Isaac gave me a small smile which I returned. I needed at least one ally here in Helltown. Derek did that staring thing again and just when I thought he was going to say something to me he marched through the living space before sliding open and firmly closed the door into his room. I sighed. This was going to be a long few weeks.

As I made my bed – i.e. placing the sleeping bag on top of the mattress, I could feel Isaac watching me from the other side of the room. After attempting to ignore the stare for a good ten minutes I finally gave in and glanced up frowning.

"Do you need something?" I asked a little bluntly. Jesus, I really had to be careful. I did want to keep my only fan in my current predicament.

Isaac swallowed. "Um... well... I was just wondering. And I know this is a bit personal but… did your Dad get a funeral."

I stared blankly at the boy for a few moments. "He was… cut in half and buried, does that count?"

He shrugged, telling me it did. "Were you upset?"

"Upset?"

"That he had died?"

"Did you hear anything that I'd told you before?"

"Yes!" He sighed, and scratched the back of his neck. These questions may not have made sense to me but they were somehow important to him. I sighed.

"Isaac I was glad he was dead, he did nothing to deserve anything from his daughter except perhaps me spitting on his corpse." I bit my lip. Maybe I was being too vulgar.

Strangely, these words brought out a small smile. Slowly though it vanished. When he spoke again he was whispering.

"Do – Do you think that that makes you a horrible person. That you're glad your own father died?"

I paused, trying to figure out where all these questions are coming from. If this boy had been any older, or any less sincere I would have punched him in the balls a long time ago. Somehow, I just knew he wasn't asking me these questions to judge me. My answers were for his own piece of mind.

So I answered him as honestly as I could manage.

"No, I don't think I'm… horrible. Just... smart."