Melvina sighed as she watched her son lumber into the kitchen, looking so crestfallen and melancholic. His shoulders were slouched, his expression shadowed. She frowned slightly, wondering what had transpired between the three males in the room.

  For a moment, she wanted to attribute his mood to her mate finding out about their son’s human mate—but then she brushed it off.

  If Peter had known already, she would have heard his angry shouts echoing through the house by now. He would have barged straight into the kitchen, ready to confront her for keeping such a secret.

  “Mom, he wants some pancakes,” Derek said distastefully, dragging out the word he as he sat down tiredly on a stool by the kitchen counter, his head bowed slightly.

  His father’s earlier pronouncement had drained him completely; the thought of it still gnawed at him. He was certain his uncle was up to no good.

  Melvina didn’t need to ask who the “he” was—his tone said it all.

  “What happened? What did you all talk about? Why are you looking so downcast?” she asked all at once, turning to grab a plate from the rack.

  “Dad wants to combine forces with Uncle Arnold’s pack,” Derek muttered angrily, tapping his index finger rhythmically on the counter.

  Clang!

  The plate slipped from Melvina’s hand and crashed against the tiled floor, the sharp metallic sound echoing through the kitchen. She stood frozen, the color draining from her face.

  “What did you just say?” she asked, her voice low, almost disbelieving. The broken plate lay forgotten as she took a slow step toward him.

  “Dad wants to combine forces with Uncle Arnold,” Derek repeated monotonously, not even noticing her shock—or the shards of porcelain at their feet.

  His mind was elsewhere, already plotting how to thwart his uncle’s schemes.

  It would mean extra work for him and his friends, but he was ready to keep a close, watchful eye on Arnold and the warriors that would come with him.

  “And why would he do that?” Melvina asked, irritation flaring in her chest. Was my mate really this gullible? she thought bitterly.

  “Well, according to him, he wants us to exchange knowledge and also team up to fight off the Whitested Pack,” Derek said.

  “But—” she started, then stopped when she noticed her son’s eyes glaze slightly. He was receiving a message through the pack link. She folded her arms and waited.

  “Dad wants the pancakes now,” he finally said, standing up from the stool.

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  “Okay. We’ll discuss this later then,” she replied, and he nodded silently.

  Bending down, Melvina picked up the broken pieces of ceramic and carried them to the sink. Thereafter, she rinsed her hands, then used a clean hand towel from the rail to dry them carefully.

  Taking a deep breath, she took another plate from the rack, scooped a few pancakes from the metallic bowl near the microwave and placed them neatly on the plate.

  “Where’s Eva?” Derek asked, watching his mother work.

  “I sent her to her room to read and sleep. She was making a mess of my batter earlier,” Melvina replied, a small smile tugging at her lips as she recalled her daughter’s earlier antics. The image of her little girl dusted in flour made her chuckle softly.

  Seeing the fond smile on his mother’s face after her earlier outburst, Derek smiled too. His little sister always managed to bring joy into the room. He wondered what chaos she had caused this time.

  “Here, take this,” Melvina said, handing him a blue plastic tray that held two plates of warm, sweet-smelling pancakes.

  “Mom—”

  “Yes, I know. Yours is still in the bowl,” she said quickly, cutting him off with a knowing smirk. She already knew what he was about to say. Her son was a hopeless pancake lover—or more accurately, a fan of her pancakes.

  “Okay,” Derek muttered, turning toward the door that led to the sitting room.

  “Wait!” Melvina called suddenly. She had just remembered the syrup. Picking up the bottle, she walked over to Derek, who had stopped at the doorway, and poured it gingerly over the pancakes.

  “You can go now,” she said, stepping back.

  Derek nodded, balancing the tray carefully as he walked off.

  “Arnold combining forces with us? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard this year,” Melvina muttered to herself, shaking her head. She’d have to talk to Peter tonight—there was no way she was letting her brother-in-law or his minions into their pack.

  The man couldn’t be trusted. Not after what he’d done during and after the last pack war.

  Grabbing a rag from the rail near the windowpane, she began cleaning the kitchen. Eva’s ‘adult cooking’ had left flour scattered everywhere—on the counter, on the floor, even on the stool legs. She sighed, shaking her head as she scrubbed.

  She cleaned for quite a while before Derek returned to the kitchen. He strode to the counter, reached into the metallic bowl, and picked up a pancake, biting into it immediately.

  “Derek, use a plate,” she said over her shoulder. “And take a seat too,” she added, pointing at the nearest stool. “It’s not like the pancakes are running away,” she muttered under her breath—loud enough for him to hear.

  He smirked faintly but obeyed, pulling out a stool and sitting down.

  “So, what else did your uncle say?” Melvina asked, dropping the rag into the sink before taking a seat beside him.

  “Well, he’s sending some of his pack warriors here. Dad’s sending some of ours there. Exchange of intelligence, according to him,” Derek said, drizzling a generous amount of syrup over his pancakes.

  “Oh, Goddess,” Melvina muttered, rubbing her forehead. This is getting out of hand.

  As she watched him devour the pancakes, her mind drifted back to Peter. Why was her mate always so forgiving—so trusting—of his elder brother after everything that had happened seven years ago?

  “Mom, thank you,” Derek said, grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

  “You’re welcome,” she replied with a soft smile. “Where are you going?” she asked, noticing how his gaze flicked toward the back door.

  “I’m going to see her,” he said simply, already walking toward the exit.

  “Emma?” she called.

  “Yes,” he replied, disappearing through the door.