I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
Patréon.com/emperordragon
________________________________________
Chapter 97: Mirror
The Argent House.
The air in the Argent basement was heavy, smelling faintly of oil and steel. Weapons lined the walls—bows, crossbows, blades—everything polished, sharp, ready.
Chris Argent stood at the workbench, methodically cleaning a handgun even though it was already spotless. His wife, Victoria, leaned against a cabinet, arms crossed, her sharp eyes never missing a detail.
Across from them, three hunters shifted uneasily, their bodies stiff, bandaged from fresh bruises and cuts. The oldest, a grizzled man with gray in his beard, finally cleared his throat and spoke.
"We did as you asked, Chris. We delivered your warning—told Hale to back off and stop sniffing around. He didn't take kindly to it, but he didn't act until…" He hesitated, flicking a glance at the younger of the three.
The young hunter, maybe barely out of his twenties, stood with his chin raised defiantly despite the purple swelling along his jaw.
"…Until someone decided it was smart to insult the Hale dead," the older man finished, his voice low with frustration.
Chris set the gun down with a sharp clack. He looked at the younger hunter, his face unreadable. "Did you?"
The boy didn't flinch. "He needed to know his family wasn't as noble as he thinks. That they brought ruin on themselves."
Chris's jaw tightened, but his voice stayed calm—cold. "What I asked you to do was deliver a warning. Not provoke. Not escalate. Do you understand the difference?"
The boy sneered. "He would've hit us no matter what."
"No," Chris said flatly. "He wouldn't have. Derek Hale is many things, but reckless isn't one of them. You pushed him."
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.
Chris stepped closer, his presence suddenly heavy. "Listen to me carefully. If you ever disobey my orders again—if you ever drag our family into your pride—I won't just bench you. You'll be done. Gone. No place with us. Are we clear?"
The young hunter swallowed, the defiance finally cracking. "…Yes, sir."
Chris held his gaze a moment longer before turning away. "Good. Leave."
The three hunters made their exit, the sound of their boots fading up the basement steps.
For a long moment, the basement was quiet except for the faint hum of the old lightbulb overhead.
Victoria broke the silence first, her voice measured. "This was partly our fault."
Chris glanced at her, brow furrowed.
She pushed off the cabinet and moved closer. "You know as well as I do—our people look for excuses to fight, especially the younger ones. We let them carry weapons, let them hunt, but sometimes they forget the weight of what that means. If we can't control them, we shouldn't be surprised when they make things worse."
Chris exhaled slowly, leaning back against the workbench. "I wanted Hale to back down, to keep his distance. Not to put three of ours in the hospital."
Victoria shook her head. "Then don't push it further. Don't make this worse. Let it lie."
He studied her for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "…You're right."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "We came to Beacon Hills for answers, Chris. For what happened six years ago. But maybe the Hales are as blind as we are. They lost family that night too. I don't think they know any more than we do."
Chris's face softened, though the lines of worry never left it. "So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying, given our history… we should stay away from the Hales. As much as possible."
Chris looked at the weapon still sitting on the workbench, then back at his wife. He nodded once, decisive.
"Then that's what we'll do."
The Hale House.
The Hale house study was quiet except for the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. The shelves were lined with old books and a few framed photographs of a family much larger than the one left standing now. The weight of absence hung in the room like a ghost.
Laura sat behind the desk, her posture straight, her eyes sharp as flint. Derek stood in front of her with his arms folded, though his shoulders carried tension. Malia lingered nearby, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, watching with a mixture of curiosity and unease.
Derek had just finished recounting the incident before—the gas station, the three hunters, the warning, the insult that had cut too deep, and the fight that had followed. His words had been clipped, heavy with frustration, but honest.
Laura let the silence stretch for a beat, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, she spoke.
"I told you," her voice cut through the room, steady but sharp, "to stay away from them."
Derek looked down, jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tight. He didn't answer because there was no excuse to give.
Laura stood, moving around the desk, her gaze locked on her brother. "And instead of listening, you stalked them for days. You brought yourself into their line of sight. You made yourself a problem."
"Laura—" Derek began, but she cut him off.
"No. Enough." Her tone was sharper now, her Alpha voice ringing through the room. "The Argents aren't harmless, Derek. They've killed our kin before, and they will again if we give them a reason. Getting involved with them—chasing them—only makes things worse for us."
Malia shifted against the wall, her expression grim but silent.
Laura's gaze softened for a moment, but only slightly. "You think you're protecting us by keeping an eye on them. But what you've done is stir a nest. This fight? This… mess?" She gestured sharply. "It's on us now, because you started it. And it ends here."
Derek's head dipped lower, reluctant but unable to argue. He muttered, almost under his breath, "…I just didn't trust them."
"You don't have to," Laura said firmly. "You only have to stay away. Do you understand me?"
Derek's silence stretched again, but finally he gave a small, tight nod.
Laura's gaze then flicked to Malia. "And that goes for you too. From now on, no one—no one—from this family goes near the Argents."
Malia straightened and gave a short nod. "Understood."
Laura looked back at Derek, waiting. Reluctantly, he nodded again, slower this time, his voice low. "…Fine."
Laura studied him for a long moment before finally stepping back. The authority in her stance never wavered, but there was a flicker of worry in her eyes—a sister who knew how stubborn her brother could be.
"Good," she said at last. "Then we're done here."
The clock ticked on. The unspoken truth lingered in the silence: Derek had agreed, but neither Laura nor Malia truly believed he would let this go.