Blood & Bite Marks
Author: RED ROSE 🌹
LGBT+ ;Romance
Blood Ties & Bite Marks
Embry Call x Stiles Stilinski
---
Rain bled down the neon lights of Beacon Hills like the city itself was wounded.
The streets glistened black and gold beneath flickering signs, expensive cars prowling the roads like predators. Beacon Hills wasn’t just a city anymore—it was territory.
And territory belonged to packs.
Not the kind from stories.
Not wolves running through forests under moonlight.
These wolves wore tailored suits, carried knives and guns beneath designer coats, and ruled entire cities from underground clubs, ports, casinos, and blood-stained warehouses.
At the top of Beacon Hills stood the Hale-McCall Syndicate.
Feared.
Untouchable.
Deadly.
And hidden beneath all of it—protected more fiercely than money, weapons, or secrets—
Was Stiles Stilinski.
---
“Absolutely not.”
Stiles dropped dramatically onto the leather couch in Derek Hale’s penthouse office.
“You people are ruining my social life.”
“You don’t have a social life,” Derek replied without looking up from paperwork.
“That’s because you won’t let me leave.”
Scott snorted from beside the window.
“You snuck out last week.”
“And got chased by assassins,” Derek said flatly.
Stiles pointed aggressively.
“Correction. I got lightly threatened by assassins.”
“They shot at you.”
“Okay, wow, when you say it like that it sounds dangerous.”
Derek finally looked up, green eyes glowing faintly.
“You are not leaving Beacon territory without guards.”
Stiles groaned loudly.
At twenty-one, Stiles Stilinski had grown up hidden behind locked gates, guarded compounds, and armed wolves. His father—Sheriff Stilinski—had once been neutral between supernatural mafia territories.
Then the Forks Pack happened.
The Black Syndicate of Forks.
Led by Sam Uley.
Ruthless.
Efficient.
Terrifying.
The war between Beacon Hills and Forks had started years ago after a failed alliance and several dead bodies.
Now both sides existed in a constant cold war.
And Stiles?
Stiles was leverage.
Human.
Smart.
Sheriff Stilinski’s son.
The one person Beacon Hills would burn cities for.
Which meant everyone wanted him alive.
Or dead.
Depending on the day.
---
That night, Stiles escaped anyway.
Because of course he did.
“You’re a terrible influence,” Lydia said as she drove.
“I’m literally the victim here.”
“You threatened emotional manipulation.”
“I said I would cry.”
“You can cry on command.”
“That’s talent.”
Beside them, Erica laughed loudly.
The black SUV sped through downtown Beacon Hills toward a nightclub owned secretly by the Hale Syndicate.
Pulse.
The safest place in the city for pack members.
Or so Stiles had been told.
“You get one hour,” Derek had growled before allowing it.
One hour.
Stiles intended to enjoy every second.
---
Pulse was loud, expensive, and dangerous.
The bass vibrated through the floor while colored lights flashed across crowded bodies. Men in suits guarded every entrance while wolves mingled among humans pretending everything was normal.
Stiles loved it.
For one night, he could pretend he was ordinary.
Then he saw him.
Across the room.
Dark skin.
Broad shoulders.
Sharp eyes.
A dangerous face softened slightly by confusion.
The stranger stood near the VIP balcony, staring directly at Stiles like the world had stopped moving.
And maybe it had.
Because the second Embry Call looked at Stiles Stilinski—
The world shattered.
Mine.
The instinct hit like a gunshot.
Imprint.
Mate.
His wolf exploded awake inside him, violent and desperate.
Protect.
Keep.
Claim.
Embry physically stumbled.
“Embry?”
Quil frowned beside him.
“You okay?”
Embry couldn’t answer.
Because the beautiful boy in the leather jacket was laughing at something Lydia said, head tilted back slightly, pale throat exposed—
—and Embry’s wolf nearly lost control.
“Oh no,” Jared whispered.
“What?” Paul asked.
Then he followed Embry’s stare.
“Oh hell.”
Sam Uley appeared beside them silently.
The alpha looked once toward Stiles.
Everything in the room changed.
Because Sam recognized him immediately.
Sheriff Stilinski’s son.
Beacon Hills’ hidden prince.
And Embry had just imprinted on him.
This was catastrophic.
---
Stiles noticed the staring eventually.
“Okay,” he muttered. “Hot guy near the balcony has been staring at me for like fifteen minutes.”
Erica looked.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Stiles repeated suspiciously.
“That’s not just hot guy. That’s terrifying hot guy.”
“Helpful.”
Scott suddenly stiffened beside him.
His eyes glowed briefly.
Derek appeared moments later.
Tense.
Deadly.
Every wolf in Beacon Hills abruptly went alert.
Stiles frowned.
“What happened?”
Derek stared toward the balcony.
Then swore softly.
“The Forks Pack is here.”
Silence.
Stiles blinked.
“…The mafia werewolves from Washington?”
“Yes.”
“…Cool cool cool cool cool no doubt no doubt.”
“Stay behind me.”
Naturally, Stiles immediately leaned sideways to keep staring at the dark-haired stranger.
And the stranger stared right back.
The eye contact felt dangerous.
Intimate.
Like something invisible wrapped around both of them.
Stiles swallowed.
Why did his chest feel weird?
---
Embry spent the next week losing his mind.
“You’re stalking him.”
“I’m protecting him.”
“You followed him to a bookstore,” Paul said.
“There were suspicious people.”
“He bought six mystery novels and coffee.”
“Exactly. Suspicious.”
Quil burst out laughing.
Embry glared.
Since meeting Stiles, everything had become unbearable.
Every time someone touched Stiles—
Scott throwing an arm around him.
Isaac leaning close while talking.
Even Derek standing too near—
Embry’s wolf became homicidal.
“You need to tell him,” Sam said eventually.
Embry shook his head immediately.
“He hates us.”
“He doesn’t even know you.”
“He’s Beacon Hills.”
Sam sighed.
This was bad.
Because imprinting wasn’t temporary.
It wasn’t a crush.
It wasn’t desire.
It was instinct carved into bone.
Embry would die before hurting Stiles.
And kill anyone who tried.
Including Beacon Hills.
---
Meanwhile, Stiles had started noticing things.
Like the black motorcycle parked outside his favorite diner three nights in a row.
Or the giant shadow watching from rooftops.
Or random men suddenly disappearing whenever danger got close.
“Am I being stalked?”
“Yes,” Lydia answered immediately.
Stiles choked on his fries.
“WHAT?”
“You just noticed?”
Scott looked guilty.
“We didn’t want to worry you.”
“YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS LESS WORRYING?”
Derek pinched the bridge of his nose.
“It’s probably Forks gathering information.”
“Probably?!”
Then Stiles remembered the dark-eyed stranger.
Oh.
Oh no.
---
The kidnapping happened two weeks later.
Naturally, Stiles insulted his kidnappers within the first five minutes.
“You zip-tied me wrong.”
Paul looked offended.
“There’s a correct way?!”
“Yes. Amateur.”
Embry hid a smile from the driver’s seat.
Stiles sat between Quil and Jared in the back of a black SUV, glaring murderously.
“You people are insane.”
“That’s fair,” Quil admitted.
“Also your friend up front has been staring at me through the mirror for twenty minutes.”
Embry immediately looked away.
Paul cackled.
“He’s nervous.”
“Why?”
“Embry,” Sam warned from the passenger seat.
“What? He asked.”
Stiles narrowed his eyes.
This was weirdest kidnapping ever.
Nobody threatened him.
Nobody hit him.
Quil offered him snacks twice.
Jared apologized after every bump in the road.
And Embry looked at Stiles like he hung the moon.
It was unsettling.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Forks,” Sam answered calmly.
“…Washington?”
“No, Disneyland.”
Stiles snorted despite himself.
Sam hid a smile.
Interesting.
---
Beacon Hills exploded when they discovered Stiles missing.
Derek killed three men before breakfast.
Scott nearly shifted fully in public.
Sheriff Stilinski looked ready to start a war.
“They took my son.”
The room went silent.
Because nobody wanted to see Noah Stilinski angry.
“He’s alive,” Lydia said quietly.
“How do you know?”
“I’d feel it.”
Derek’s claws slid out.
“If Forks hurts him—”
“They won’t,” Peter interrupted.
Everyone turned.
Peter Hale looked thoughtful.
“Why would they kidnap Stiles and leave half our guards alive?”
Scott frowned.
“…What does that mean?”
Peter smirked slowly.
“Oh, this wasn’t political.”
---
Forks territory was terrifyingly beautiful.
Dense forests.
Massive estates hidden between trees.
Black luxury cars.
Armed wolves everywhere.
Stiles expected prison.
Instead, he got a mansion.
A literal mansion.
“What the hell?”
Embry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
“You’ll stay here.”
“This is kidnapping with rich people flavor.”
Paul grinned.
“Exactly.”
The mansion overlooked cliffs and ocean waves crashing violently below.
Inside, everything was warm wood, expensive furniture, and strange comfort.
Stiles hated how nice it was.
He hated even more how carefully Embry watched him.
Like Stiles mattered.
Like he was precious.
It made his stomach twist.
---
“I’m not talking to you.”
Embry sat across from him quietly.
“Okay.”
“You kidnapped me.”
“I know.”
“You’re all criminals.”
“…Also true.”
“You stare too much.”
Embry blinked.
Then looked down immediately.
Stiles almost laughed.
The terrifying mafia werewolf looked embarrassed.
That should not be adorable.
“You’re weird,” Stiles muttered.
Embry smiled slightly.
“You talk a lot.”
“I’m stressed.”
“You always talk this much.”
“…Rude.”
Embry’s smile widened.
And Stiles felt something dangerous bloom inside his chest.
---
The jealousy incidents started getting worse.
Especially after Jacob Black arrived.
Jacob adored Stiles instantly.
Unfortunately for everyone, Jacob was affectionate.
Very affectionate.
“You’re hilarious,” Jacob laughed one night, arm slung around Stiles.
Across the room—
CRACK.
Embry had shattered a whiskey glass.
Everyone froze.
Stiles blinked.
“…Did he just Hulk out because Jacob touched me?”
Paul whispered dramatically:
“Oh my God, he’s so gone.”
Embry looked horrified at himself.
Jacob looked delighted.
“WAIT.”
He stood suddenly.
“YOU IMPRINTED.”
Dead silence.
Stiles frowned.
“…Imprinted?”
Every wolf in the room stared at Embry.
Embry looked ready to die.
And suddenly Stiles understood everything.
The staring.
The stalking.
The kidnapping.
The jealousy.
“Oh my God,” Stiles whispered.
Then louder:
“OH MY GOD.”
---
“Say something,” Embry said quietly later.
Stiles paced furiously inside the library.
“You kidnapped me because of supernatural soulmate nonsense?!”
“It’s not nonsense.”
“That’s your defense?!”
Embry stepped closer carefully.
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You could’ve tried communication!”
“You’re Beacon Hills.”
“So?”
“You would’ve disappeared behind Hale security forever.”
Stiles stopped pacing.
Embry looked exhausted.
Raw.
Honest.
“I just… needed you safe.”
The words hit harder than they should.
Stiles hated that.
“You don’t even know me.”
Embry laughed softly.
“I know you stay awake reading until three in the morning.”
Stiles froze.
“You hate mushrooms.”
“…Okay creepy.”
“You ramble when nervous.”
“Still creepy.”
“You pretend you’re not scared to protect everyone else.”
Stiles looked away.
Embry stepped closer again.
“I know you.”
The room suddenly felt too small.
---
Stiles should’ve hated him.
Really.
Logically.
But Embry ruined everything by being annoyingly good.
Because beneath the mafia violence and dangerous reputation—
Embry was gentle.
With him.
Always.
He brought Stiles coffee exactly how he liked it after hearing him complain once.
He remembered every tiny detail.
He walked on the outside of sidewalks automatically.
Watched exits.
Checked windows.
Stayed close without crowding.
And when Stiles couldn’t sleep after nightmares—
Embry sat beside him silently until sunrise.
No questions asked.
It was unfair.
---
Then the attack happened.
A rival gang hit Forks territory during a shipment exchange.
Gunfire erupted through the docks.
Stiles had never seen real mafia warfare before.
It was brutal.
Fast.
Deadly.
Wolves moved like monsters beneath flashing lights and bullets.
And Embry—
Embry became terrifying.
Blood covered his shirt while claws tore through enemies.
Stiles watched in horror.
Until someone aimed directly at Embry’s blind spot.
“EMBRY!”
The gun fired.
Embry turned too late.
The bullet tore through his shoulder.
Everything exploded afterward.
Sam ripped the shooter apart.
Paul shifted fully.
Chaos swallowed the docks.
But Stiles only saw Embry collapsing.
---
“Move.”
The wolves scattered instantly when Stiles stormed into the medical room.
Embry lay pale against dark sheets, breathing unevenly.
Blood soaked bandages around his shoulder.
Stiles’ chest hurt violently at the sight.
“You idiot,” he whispered.
Embry smiled weakly.
“Hi.”
“You got shot.”
“Occupational hazard.”
Stiles sat beside him immediately.
Embry’s eyes softened.
And for the first time—
Stiles reached for him first.
Their fingers intertwined slowly.
The room outside went silent.
Because every wolf nearby could hear Embry’s heartbeat suddenly steady.
---
After that night, things changed.
Subtly.
Dangerously.
Stiles began waiting for Embry during late meetings.
Embry started smiling more.
They argued constantly.
Flirted accidentally.
Shared food.
Shared space.
Shared secrets.
“You know,” Stiles said one evening, sprawled across Embry’s bed, “this is the worst Stockholm Syndrome situation ever.”
Embry looked up from cleaning a gun.
“You’re not scared of me anymore.”
Stiles hesitated.
Then honestly:
“No.”
Embry stared at him quietly.
That look again.
Like Stiles was everything.
It should’ve terrified him.
Instead—
It made him warm.
---
Unfortunately, Beacon Hills finally found him.
The confrontation nearly started a war.
Black SUVs surrounded the Forks estate.
Wolves everywhere.
Scott, Derek, Peter, Isaac, and Chris Argent stepped out armed and furious.
Stiles sighed dramatically.
“Ah. Family reunion.”
Embry immediately moved in front of him protectively.
Derek noticed.
And nearly exploded.
“You touched him?”
Stiles blinked.
“That’s your first question?!”
Scott stared between them slowly.
Then realization hit.
“…Oh no.”
Peter started laughing.
“Oh this is priceless.”
Sam stepped forward calmly.
“No one wants war.”
“You kidnapped him,” Derek growled.
“And he’s unharmed.”
Stiles raised a hand.
“Technically true.”
Everyone turned toward him.
Sheriff Stilinski stepped from another vehicle.
Stiles froze.
“Dad.”
Noah looked exhausted.
Then furious.
Then relieved.
Then furious again.
“You were kidnapped.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t call.”
“They took my phone.”
Fair.
Noah pulled him into a crushing hug instantly.
For a second, Stiles forgot everything else.
Then he noticed Embry watching quietly from behind.
Like he was afraid Stiles would leave.
The expression hurt unexpectedly.
---
“You’re staying with us,” Derek said firmly.
Stiles hesitated.
Every wolf there noticed.
Including Embry.
His face went carefully blank.
And somehow that hurt worse.
“I…”
Scott stared.
“Stiles?”
The silence stretched.
Then Stiles whispered:
“I don’t want them hurt.”
Beacon Hills froze.
Because that wasn’t fear talking.
That was loyalty.
Dangerous, terrifying loyalty.
Derek looked at Embry slowly.
“You imprinted.”
Embry said nothing.
Didn’t deny it.
Sheriff Stilinski rubbed his face tiredly.
“Oh God.”
---
Negotiations lasted six hours.
Threats lasted longer.
Eventually, a temporary truce formed.
Mostly because Stiles threatened bodily harm to both packs if they started another war in front of him.
“You cannot emotionally blackmail mafia werewolves,” Derek snapped.
“Watch me.”
And horrifyingly?
It worked.
---
The real problem came afterward.
Because now Stiles knew.
About imprinting.
About Embry.
About what that look in his eyes meant.
And once he knew—
He started noticing his own feelings too.
Which was deeply unfortunate.
Because Embry Call was devastating when relaxed.
Laughing with pack members.
Working on motorcycles.
Shirt sleeves rolled up.
Hair messy.
Protective hands at Stiles’ waist during dangerous situations.
Soft eyes only Stiles ever saw.
It was ruining him.
---
“You’re staring,” Lydia said smugly during a video call.
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Stiles groaned.
From across the room, Embry looked up instantly.
“Everything okay?”
See?!
That.
That attentive nonsense.
Stiles wanted to bite something.
Lydia looked delighted.
“Oh, you’re in love.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
Unfortunately true.
---
The next few months blurred into dangerous peace.
Beacon Hills and Forks maintained an uneasy alliance.
Mostly because Stiles forced them to communicate like divorced parents sharing custody.
Meanwhile, Stiles and Embry danced around each other painfully slowly.
Too scared to define things.
Too attached to pull away.
Until one winter night finally broke them.
---
Snow fell softly outside the Forks mansion.
Stiles sat wrapped in blankets near the fireplace while Embry returned from a meeting bruised and exhausted.
Immediately, Stiles stood.
“What happened?”
“Nothing serious.”
“Embry.”
The warning tone made Embry smile tiredly.
“Minor fight.”
Stiles touched his jaw carefully.
Embry went still instantly.
The room felt warmer suddenly.
“You need to stop getting injured.”
“You sound like Sam.”
“You both stress me out.”
Embry’s eyes softened dangerously.
Stiles realized too late how close they were standing.
Neither moved away.
“You stayed,” Embry whispered.
Stiles swallowed.
“What?”
“You could’ve left.”
The vulnerability in his voice shattered something inside Stiles.
Because Embry truly believed Stiles might choose Beacon Hills over him.
Still.
After everything.
Idiot.
Stiles grabbed his shirt suddenly.
And kissed him.
Hard.
Embry froze completely.
Then his hands carefully settled on Stiles’ waist like he was something sacred.
The kiss deepened slowly.
Burning.
Careful.
Terrifyingly tender.
When they finally separated, Embry rested his forehead against Stiles’.
“You sure?”
Stiles laughed breathlessly.
“No. But apparently I’m into emotionally constipated mafia werewolves now.”
Embry laughed loudly for the first time in weeks.
And God—
Stiles loved that sound.
---
Dating Embry Call turned out to be chaotic.
Because Embry remained jealous.
Horribly jealous.
“You growled at Isaac.”
“He touched your hair.”
“He was removing glitter.”
“Still suspicious.”
“You’re insane.”
“You like me anyway.”
Unfortunately true again.
Paul made gagging noises constantly.
Jacob supported the relationship aggressively.
Sam looked permanently exhausted.
And Derek threatened Embry weekly.
Normal family dynamics.
---
One evening, during a joint mafia meeting between both packs, things nearly collapsed again.
A rival syndicate attempted assassination.
Gunfire erupted through the hotel ballroom.
Guests screamed.
Chaos exploded instantly.
Stiles barely had time to react before someone grabbed him violently.
Wrong person.
Wrong mistake.
Because Embry saw it happen.
And snapped.
The entire room watched in horror as Embry shifted partially, claws tearing through marble flooring while pure alpha-level rage exploded from him.
“TOUCH HIM AGAIN.”
The attacker didn’t survive.
Neither did several others.
By the end, blood painted the ballroom red.
And Embry stood over Stiles shaking violently.
Not from rage.
From fear.
“You okay?”
Stiles stared at him softly.
Embry had looked more terrified of losing Stiles than dying himself.
Something deep inside Stiles melted completely.
“I’m okay.”
Embry pulled him close immediately.
Like he physically couldn’t stop himself.
And for the first time—
Stiles hugged him back without hesitation.
Home.
The realization hit suddenly.
Somewhere between kidnappings, mafia wars, jealous growling, sleepless nights, and impossible tenderness—
Embry had become home.
Months later, peace finally settled properly between Forks and Beacon Hills.
Not perfect.
Never perfect.
But better.
Trade routes reopened.
Territories stabilized.
The violence eased.
Mostly because both packs feared upsetting Stiles.
Which he abused constantly.
“You’re weaponizing emotional attachment,” Peter accused.
“Yes.”
“Proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
One rainy night, Stiles stood on the Forks mansion balcony overlooking crashing waves below.
Embry wrapped his arms around him from behind automatically.
Warm.
Safe.
“You know,” Stiles said thoughtfully, “this all started because you stalked me.”
“I protected you.”
“You kidnapped me.”
“You never let that go.”
“Absolutely not.”
Embry laughed softly against his neck.
The sound still made Stiles weak.
“Regret it?”
Stiles turned in his arms slowly.
Behind Embry’s dangerous reputation, scars, and mafia brutality—
There were soft eyes looking at him like he mattered more than breathing.
“No,” Stiles admitted quietly.
Embry kissed his forehead gently.
And somewhere deep in the forests surrounding Forks—
The wolves howled.
**********
---
The peace between Beacon Hills and Forks lasted exactly forty-three days.
Which, according to Peter Hale, was “a personal record for emotionally unstable supernatural criminals.”
Nobody appreciated his commentary.
Especially not Derek.
---
Rain hammered against the massive windows of the Hale-McCall penthouse while tension suffocated the room.
Derek stood at the head of the table in an expensive black suit, arms crossed.
Scott looked exhausted.
Chris Argent cleaned a gun in silence.
And Stiles—
Stiles sat directly on Embry’s lap eating fries.
“Can everyone stop glaring?” he complained. “You’re ruining the vibe.”
“You brought Forks wolves into Beacon territory,” Derek growled.
“They’re literally helping.”
“They’re wolves.”
“So are you?”
“That’s different.”
Embry’s large hand rested possessively against Stiles’ waist beneath the table, thumb moving in slow circles over his hip.
It had become second nature now.
Touching.
Grounding.
Keeping.
The imprint bond between them had only deepened after Stiles chose him publicly months ago.
Now Embry barely let him out of reach.
Not in an obsessive way.
In a wolf way.
Protective.
Instinctive.
Devoted.
And honestly?
Stiles liked it way too much.
“You’re staring again,” Lydia muttered from beside him.
“Shut up.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I will fight you.”
Embry kissed the side of Stiles’ temple absentmindedly while listening to Sam explain shipment routes.
The entire room fell silent.
Scott sighed deeply.
“I hate how disgustingly cute you two are.”
“Get used to it,” Paul said.
Then immediately ruined the moment by adding:
“They still haven’t mated yet.”
Stiles choked violently.
Embry nearly dropped him.
Derek looked ready to kill someone.
Jacob burst into hysterical laughter.
---
“PAUL!”
“What?! It’s true!”
Stiles’ face burned bright red.
“We are in a meeting!”
“And you smell frustrated,” Paul replied helpfully.
Embry covered his face.
Sam looked exhausted already.
Emily—who had arrived with fresh coffee and enough authority to terrify every wolf present—smacked Paul upside the head instantly.
“Stop embarrassing them.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Emily sat beside Sam gracefully, scars catching softly beneath the dim lights.
Unlike the rumors surrounding her, Emily wasn’t frightening.
She was calm.
Sharp.
Warm.
The heart of the Forks pack.
And somehow terrifying enough to control six giant werewolf mafia members with one look.
Stiles adored her instantly.
“Thank you,” he told her dramatically.
“You’re welcome.”
Then Emily looked directly at Embry.
“You’re being patient, right?”
Embry nearly inhaled wrong.
Stiles looked between them suspiciously.
“…Why are you talking to him like he’s a poorly trained attack dog?”
“Because he is,” Jacob answered.
Embry threw a pen at him.
---
The mating conversation unfortunately refused to die afterward.
Mostly because wolves had zero boundaries.
Absolutely none.
Stiles discovered this while hiding in the Forks mansion kitchen at two in the morning.
He was peacefully eating leftover cake when Jacob appeared.
Then Quil.
Then Paul.
Then Sam.
And somehow the topic returned again.
“You know,” Jacob said thoughtfully, “the mating bond gets stronger after marking.”
Stiles froze.
“…Marking?”
Paul grinned wickedly.
“Oh my God, nobody explained it yet.”
Embry walked into the kitchen at the exact wrong moment.
The wolves immediately looked delighted.
Embry looked horrified.
Stiles narrowed his eyes.
“What marking?”
“Nope,” Embry said instantly.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Embry.”
“Absolutely not.”
Jacob leaned across the counter dramatically.
“When wolves fully choose their mate—”
“Jacob.”
“—they bite them.”
Stiles blinked.
“…Excuse me?”
“Not violently,” Quil added quickly.
“It’s sacred,” Sam said quietly.
The kitchen fell calmer after that.
More serious.
Stiles slowly looked toward Embry.
Embry refused to meet his eyes.
“It’s permanent,” Embry admitted softly.
Something warm twisted in Stiles’ chest.
Permanent.
---
Later that night, Stiles cornered Embry in his room.
Which sounded way more scandalous than intended.
Embry sat cleaning weapons on the floor when Stiles entered.
“You avoided me.”
“No I didn’t.”
“You literally climbed out a window.”
“…Temporary tactical retreat.”
Stiles snorted.
Then sat beside him quietly.
The room smelled like cedarwood, rain, and gun oil.
Embry’s scent.
Home.
“So,” Stiles began carefully, “the marking thing.”
Embry went very still.
“You don’t have to—”
“I know.”
The immediate answer softened something in Embry’s expression.
Stiles continued quietly:
“But I want to understand.”
Embry set the gun aside slowly.
“It’s… hard to explain.”
“Try.”
For a moment only rain filled the silence.
Then Embry finally spoke.
“When wolves find their mate, the bond already exists emotionally.”
His eyes stayed fixed on Stiles.
“But the marking…”
His voice lowered slightly.
“…it means forever.”
Stiles’ pulse quickened.
Embry moved closer unconsciously.
“It tells every wolf you’re mine to protect.”
Mine.
The word should’ve scared him.
Instead it settled warm beneath his ribs.
“And you?” Stiles whispered.
Embry looked at him like the answer was obvious.
“I’ve been yours since the moment I saw you.”
Well.
That was deeply unfair.
---
Meanwhile—
Jacob Black was having his own catastrophic problems.
Specifically:
Edward Cullen.
Vampire.
Doctor.
Annoyingly beautiful.
Enemy.
And apparently Jacob’s soulmate.
Which was disgusting.
---
“This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.”
“You got shot three times last year,” Quil reminded him.
“This is emotionally worse.”
Across the upscale underground casino, Edward Cullen calmly stitched a bullet wound closed on one of Sam’s men like absolute chaos didn’t surround him.
Every movement precise.
Elegant.
Controlled.
The Cullen Syndicate operated differently from wolves.
Old money.
Silent violence.
Cold efficiency.
Where wolves ruled through strength and loyalty—
Vampires ruled through fear.
And Edward Cullen was terrifying.
Unfortunately, he was also gorgeous.
Pale skin.
Sharp golden eyes.
Perfect posture.
Tailored black suits.
The kind of face Renaissance artists would fight over.
Jacob hated him immediately.
Which became significantly more complicated after imprinting.
“You keep growling at him,” Embry pointed out.
“He breathes suspiciously.”
“He’s a vampire.”
“Exactly.”
Across the room, Edward glanced toward Jacob briefly.
Then smirked.
Jacob nearly flipped a table.
---
Unlike Embry and Stiles, Jacob and Edward were a disaster from the start.
Because Edward found Jacob insufferable.
And Jacob found Edward arrogant.
Their chemistry was catastrophic.
“You’re staring again,” Bella muttered.
Edward looked away smoothly.
“I’m assessing a threat.”
“You assessed him for twelve minutes.”
“He’s loud.”
Jacob immediately shouted from across the casino:
“I CAN STILL HEAR YOU, DRACULA.”
Edward closed his eyes briefly.
“See?”
Bella looked delighted.
---
Back in Forks, however, Stiles had bigger concerns.
Like the fact Embry became more possessive every day.
Not controlling.
Never controlling.
Just… intensely attached.
Which became obvious during mafia meetings.
Or parties.
Or literally any situation involving attractive people.
“You’re growling.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Embry glared at the man flirting with Stiles near the bar.
The poor guy looked seconds from death.
“He touched your arm.”
“He asked for directions.”
“He was flirting.”
“So?”
Embry’s eyes flashed wolf-gold.
“So I don’t like it.”
Stiles stared at him.
Embry immediately looked guilty.
The giant terrifying mafia wolf somehow managed to look worried and embarrassed simultaneously.
It was impossible to stay annoyed.
“You know,” Stiles said softly, stepping closer, “normal people just say they’re jealous.”
Embry’s hand slid automatically to Stiles’ waist.
“I’m not normal people.”
Fair point.
---
The mafia world, unfortunately, never stayed peaceful for long.
Especially with vampires involved now.
Three syndicates.
Two territories.
One fragile alliance.
And enemies circling constantly.
The Romano family struck first.
Human traffickers.
Arms dealers.
Cruel enough to disgust even supernatural mafias.
They hit a Cullen medical shipment outside Seattle.
Edward personally saved six wounded men while under gunfire.
Stiles watched the security footage later in stunned silence.
The vampire moved impossibly fast between bullets, carrying injured people while calmly giving medical orders.
“He’s insane,” Stiles muttered.
Jacob stared at the paused footage too long.
Embry smirked knowingly.
“Oh no.”
“Shut up.”
“You like the vampire.”
“I would rather die.”
Paul leaned into the room dramatically.
“He’s blushing.”
Jacob threw a knife at him.
---
Things escalated after Edward was temporarily stationed in Forks territory.
Which meant Jacob suffered continuously.
Because Edward apparently enjoyed provoking him.
“You’re injured,” Edward said coolly one night.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding on my floor.”
“Adds character.”
Edward sighed like Jacob personally offended him by existing.
Then grabbed Jacob’s wrist.
Instantly—
The imprint bond surged violently.
Jacob froze.
Edward stilled too.
Golden eyes widened slightly.
Because unlike wolves—
Vampires didn’t imprint.
But mates?
Soul connections?
Those existed everywhere.
And Edward felt it.
The room went painfully quiet.
“You feel it,” Jacob whispered.
Edward slowly released him.
His expression became carefully unreadable.
Dangerous.
“Oh,” Bella whispered from the doorway.
“This is going to be terrible.”
---
Meanwhile, Stiles and Embry grew worse in the best possible way.
They became inseparable.
Morning coffee together.
Late-night drives through Forks.
Shared hoodies.
Shared beds.
Shared everything except the final bond.
And the tension?
Absolutely unbearable.
Especially for wolves with enhanced senses.
“You two need to either mate or fight,” Paul complained during breakfast.
“Preferably fight,” Jacob muttered bitterly.
Emily smacked both of them.
---
One rainy evening, Stiles found Embry sitting alone in the garage working on motorcycles.
Music played softly.
Rain tapped against metal roofing.
And Embry looked beautiful.
Sleeves rolled up.
Grease on his hands.
Dark curls falling into his eyes.
Stiles leaned against the doorway quietly.
“You disappeared.”
Embry glanced up instantly softening.
“Needed space.”
“From me?”
“Never from you.”
The immediate answer made warmth bloom in Stiles’ chest.
He crossed the garage slowly.
Embry’s gaze followed every movement.
Always watching.
Always aware.
Stiles stopped directly between Embry’s knees.
Close.
Dangerously close.
“You know what Emily told me?”
Embry tensed immediately.
“That sounds threatening.”
“She said wolves only mark someone when they’re completely certain.”
Embry’s hands settled carefully on Stiles’ hips.
“I’ve been certain from the beginning.”
God.
That voice.
That honesty.
It wrecked him.
Stiles touched Embry’s jaw gently.
“And if I said yes?”
Embry went perfectly still.
Like even breathing became dangerous.
“You don’t have to rush because of the bond,” Embry said quietly.
“I know.”
“You deserve a choice.”
“I know.”
“You can still walk away.”
Stiles smiled softly then.
Because even now—
Even after imprinting—
Embry still gave him freedom.
That mattered.
More than anything.
“I’m not walking away.”
Embry closed his eyes briefly like the words physically hit him.
Then Stiles kissed him slowly.
Not rushed.
Not desperate.
Just honest.
And Embry melted immediately.
Huge hands pulling him impossibly closer.
The kiss deepened beneath dim garage lights while rain thundered outside.
Warm.
Safe.
Home.
Stiles pulled back slightly breathless.
“I want forever too.”
Something fierce and emotional flashed across Embry’s face.
Love.
Pure overwhelming love.
---
The marking happened three nights later.
Not because anyone pressured them.
Not because instinct demanded it.
But because Stiles chose it.
Entirely.
---
The Forks mansion stood quiet beneath heavy rain.
Most of the pack remained downstairs after Sam threatened violence if anyone interrupted.
“Especially you, Paul.”
“I’m emotionally invested!”
“You’re emotionally annoying.”
Upstairs, however—
Everything felt softer.
Warmer.
Stiles stood near the bedroom window nervously twisting his sleeves.
Embry approached carefully behind him.
“You okay?”
Stiles laughed weakly.
“Ask me in ten minutes.”
Embry smiled softly.
Then his expression turned serious.
“We stop if you want.”
“Embry.”
“I mean it.”
Stiles turned slowly toward him.
The tenderness in Embry’s eyes nearly destroyed him.
“You know,” Stiles whispered, “for a terrifying mafia werewolf, you’re weirdly sweet.”
Embry pulled him closer gently.
“Only for you.”
The room smelled like rain and cedar and warmth.
Stiles rested his forehead against Embry’s chest listening to his heartbeat.
Fast.
Nervous.
Just like his own.
“I love you,” Stiles admitted quietly.
Embry inhaled sharply.
Like the words mattered more than air.
Then he kissed Stiles slowly.
Deeply.
Not rushed.
Never rushed with him.
Clothes tangled somewhere onto the floor eventually while kisses softened into trembling touches and whispered reassurances.
No violence.
No roughness.
Only trust.
Only devotion.
Only love powerful enough to terrify them both.
And when Embry finally paused near Stiles’ neck—
He looked up first.
Waiting.
Asking.
Stiles nodded once.
“Yes.”
The bite was sharp for only a second.
Then warmth exploded through him.
A deep pulsing connection stronger than anything Stiles had ever felt before.
Like their souls snapped together completely.
Embry held him carefully afterward, forehead pressed against his shoulder.
Mine.
The bond echoed softly now from both sides.
Not ownership.
Belonging.
And for the first time in his life—
Stiles truly understood what home felt like.
---
Downstairs, every wolf abruptly froze.
Paul dropped an entire bowl of chips.
Jacob gagged dramatically.
Sam sighed in relief.
Emily smiled softly.
“Well,” she said calmly, “that finally happened.”
---
Unfortunately, peace lasted approximately two days.
Because the Romano family retaliated hard.
And this time—
They targeted Stiles directly.
Again.
“WHY IS THIS MY LIFE?” Stiles yelled while bullets shattered car windows.
Embry physically shoved him beneath the dashboard while snarling violently.
Their convoy sped through rainy Seattle streets as enemy vehicles chased aggressively behind them.
Edward drove with terrifying calm.
Jacob leaned from another SUV firing back.
“This is kind of hot!” Jacob shouted over gunfire.
Edward looked horrified.
“You need psychological help.”
“You like me.”
“I absolutely do not.”
“You hesitated!”
A grenade exploded behind them.
Chaos continued.
---
The attack ended brutally.
The wolves handled most enemies.
The vampires handled the rest.
Nobody survived long enough to report back.
Classic mafia solution.
Afterward, however, tensions shifted permanently.
Because during the fight—
Edward nearly died protecting Jacob.
And Jacob saw it.
Really saw it.
The cold vampire doctor standing bleeding beneath streetlights while still trying to save others first.
“You idiot,” Jacob whispered afterward.
Edward looked exhausted.
“You ran into gunfire.”
“So did you.”
Silence.
Then Jacob stepped closer slowly.
“You care.”
Edward looked away.
And somehow that answer meant yes.
---
Back in Forks, celebrations erupted after the successful defense.
Music.
Alcohol.
Dancing.
Pack chaos everywhere.
Emily managed the kitchen like a queen commanding armies.
Stiles helped while laughing helplessly at Paul attempting to dance on tables.
“This is your family now,” Emily said softly beside him.
Stiles paused.
The words should’ve scared him.
Instead—
They felt right.
Embry appeared moments later wrapping arms around Stiles from behind automatically.
The marking bite remained faintly visible against Stiles’ neck.
Every wolf nearby instantly relaxed at the scent.
Claimed.
Protected.
Loved.
Embry kissed the mark gently.
Stiles melted immediately.
Emily grinned knowingly.
“Oh, you’re hopeless.”
“Absolutely,” Stiles admitted.
And honestly?
He’d never been happier.
***************
---
The problem with peace was that nobody in the supernatural mafia world trusted it.
Not fully.
Not permanently.
Peace was simply the quiet moment before someone loaded a gun.
And unfortunately for everyone involved—
Someone always loaded a gun.
---
Six months after the alliance between Beacon Hills, Forks, and the Cullen Syndicate stabilized, the entire West Coast supernatural underground changed.
Routes reopened.
Territories merged carefully.
Black-market trading became organized instead of chaotic.
The Argent hunters stopped trying to murder literally everyone.
And somehow, against all odds—
Stiles Stilinski became one of the most influential people in the supernatural mafia network.
Entirely by accident.
---
“You cannot threaten international smugglers with emotional disappointment.”
Stiles looked up from his chair calmly.
“Watch me.”
Across the conference table, three hardened criminals visibly looked ashamed.
Derek pinched the bridge of his nose.
Embry sat beside Stiles radiating silent amusement.
“You promised not to sell weapons through school districts,” Stiles continued sternly. “And now I’m disappointed.”
One man actually apologized.
Peter Hale looked personally delighted.
“This is the greatest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”
Scott sighed heavily.
“How are people more scared of Stiles being disappointed than Derek threatening murder?”
“Because Derek always threatens murder,” Lydia answered immediately.
Fair point.
---
The Hale-McCall headquarters in Beacon Hills had transformed drastically over the past months.
What used to feel cold and dangerous now looked… alive.
Pack members moved freely between rooms.
Forks wolves visited constantly.
Vampires occasionally occupied entire floors.
Chaos became normal.
And somehow—
It became home for everyone.
Especially during gatherings.
Which meant noise.
A lot of noise.
“JACOB PUT THE CHAIR DOWN.”
“EDWARD STARTED IT.”
“I corrected your grammar.”
“That’s basically violence.”
“You threatened to bite me.”
“You’re a vampire. I assumed you’d enjoy irony.”
Edward Cullen stared at his mate with exhausted disbelief.
Across the room, Bella laughed so hard she nearly spilled wine on Carlisle.
“You’re smiling,” Alice whispered smugly toward Edward.
“I am not.”
“You literally adore him.”
Jacob immediately pointed dramatically.
“HA! GOT YOU.”
Edward looked ready to fake his own death.
---
Their relationship remained catastrophic.
But now?
It was catastrophic in love.
Which honestly made it worse for everyone else.
Because Jacob Black and Edward Cullen together were either disgustingly romantic or actively trying to kill each other.
There was no middle ground.
“You drank my blood bag.”
“I thought it was cranberry juice.”
“You sniffed it first.”
“I was curious.”
“You are the reason I have stress.”
Jacob grinned shamelessly.
“You think I’m pretty.”
Edward sighed deeply.
“Unfortunately.”
---
Meanwhile, Derek Hale’s life became significantly more complicated after Leah Clearwater punched someone in his nightclub.
Technically—
The man deserved it.
But still.
---
“She broke his jaw.”
“He insulted her.”
“He insulted our weapons deal!”
Leah looked unimpressed while cleaning blood from her knuckles.
“And now he learned manners.”
Derek stared at her for a long moment.
Leah crossed her arms.
“What?”
“…Nothing.”
Unfortunately for Derek, Peter noticed immediately.
“Oh no.”
Scott looked confused.
“What?”
Peter grinned wickedly.
“Derek likes the terrifying wolf woman.”
Leah blinked slowly.
Derek looked ready to commit homicide.
And Stiles?
Stiles absolutely lost his mind laughing.
---
Unlike Embry and Stiles or Jacob and Edward—
Derek and Leah were not soft.
There was no immediate tenderness.
No easy affection.
Just two deeply traumatized, emotionally constipated werewolves glaring aggressively while secretly caring too much.
“You’re bleeding.”
“I noticed.”
“You should clean that.”
“You should mind your business.”
“…You got stabbed helping my pack.”
Leah looked away slightly.
“That was tactical.”
Derek stared at her quietly.
Then handed her his whiskey glass.
Leah accepted it automatically.
Neither acknowledged the intimacy.
Peter nearly cried from secondhand frustration.
---
Unfortunately, their personal lives became secondary when bodies started appearing along the Seattle ports.
Mutilated.
Drained.
Public.
A message.
And supernatural crime families across the coast immediately panicked.
Because only one organization operated like that.
The Volturi.
Ancient vampire royalty.
The monsters even other monsters feared.
Carlisle Cullen looked physically ill during the emergency meeting.
“They shouldn’t be here.”
“Who are they exactly?” Stiles asked carefully.
The room fell tense.
Edward answered quietly.
“The people vampires fear most.”
That was not reassuring.
At all.
---
The Volturi didn’t control territory like normal syndicates.
They controlled obedience.
Entire vampire clans disappeared for refusing them.
And now—
They wanted the West Coast.
Which meant every alliance formed over the last year suddenly faced extinction.
“We either stand together,” Sam said quietly, “or die separately.”
Nobody argued.
---
Three days later, someone attempted to assassinate Stiles.
Again.
At this point it honestly felt personal.
---
The sniper shot shattered the restaurant window seconds before impact.
Embry reacted instantly.
One second Stiles stood arguing about mozzarella sticks.
The next—
Embry tackled him violently beneath the table while growling exploded through the room.
Gunfire erupted outside immediately.
Derek flipped the entire table for cover.
Leah dragged Lydia down.
Jacob phased partially without warning.
And Edward calmly snapped the sniper’s neck before most people realized he’d moved.
Silence followed.
Then Stiles slowly raised his head.
“…Can I still get mozzarella sticks?”
Embry stared at him in disbelief.
“You almost died.”
“Yes but now I’m hungry.”
Leah snorted unexpectedly.
Derek looked offended by her amusement.
Which somehow made her smirk slightly.
Peter whispered dramatically:
“Oh my God, they’re flirting through mutual violence.”
---
The assassination attempt changed things though.
Because afterward—
Embry became terrifyingly overprotective.
Not controlling.
Never that.
But intensely alert.
Always touching Stiles somehow.
Hand on his back.
Arm around his waist.
Fingers brushing his wrist.
Checking breathing.
Checking exits.
Checking everything.
“You haven’t slept,” Stiles said softly one night.
Embry sat near the mansion balcony cleaning weapons in silence.
Moonlight painted silver across his scars.
“I’m fine.”
“You sharpened the same knife for twenty minutes.”
Embry finally looked up.
Fear hid beneath the calm expression.
Fear Stiles recognized instantly.
“You almost got hurt.”
Stiles crossed the room slowly.
Then carefully sat directly in Embry’s lap.
Embry immediately wrapped both arms around him instinctively.
“I’m okay.”
“You could’ve died.”
“So could you.”
Embry’s jaw tightened.
“That’s different.”
“It’s really not.”
For a moment neither spoke.
Only ocean waves crashing below the cliffs.
Then Stiles touched the mark on his own neck gently.
“You promised forever, remember?”
Embry’s expression softened immediately.
God.
Stiles would never get used to that look.
Like love physically overwhelmed him.
“You can’t get rid of me now,” Stiles whispered teasingly.
Embry buried his face briefly against Stiles’ shoulder.
“Good.”
And honestly?
That single quiet word carried more devotion than poetry ever could.
---
Meanwhile—
Jacob Black realized he was catastrophically in love during a gunfight.
Which felt unfair.
---
“You’re smiling again,” Quil shouted while reloading weapons.
Jacob blinked.
Across the warehouse battlefield, Edward moved between injured wolves treating wounds with impossible precision despite literal bullets flying everywhere.
Calm.
Elegant.
Terrifying.
Beautiful.
“Oh no,” Jacob whispered.
Paul looked horrified.
“You caught feelings for Dracula.”
“He stitched my arm.”
“He’s a doctor.”
“He looked concerned.”
“THAT’S HIS JOB.”
Jacob ignored him completely.
Because Edward had just shot three men without looking while simultaneously giving medical instructions.
Which unfortunately awakened something deeply embarrassing inside Jacob.
---
The problem?
Edward Cullen loved carefully.
Cautiously.
Like someone terrified of wanting too much.
And Jacob—
Jacob loved loudly.
Aggressively.
Completely.
Which meant Edward often looked overwhelmed by him.
“You bought me a motorcycle?”
“You looked sad.”
“I was reading.”
“Exactly. Depression activity.”
Edward stared at the motorcycle silently.
Then at Jacob.
Then back at the motorcycle.
“You’re impossible.”
“But thoughtful.”
“…Annoyingly.”
Jacob grinned proudly.
Victory.
---
Back in Beacon Hills, however, another emotional disaster unfolded.
Because Derek Hale finally realized Leah Clearwater was avoiding him intentionally.
And Derek—
Despite appearances—
was deeply stupid about feelings.
“You upset her,” Stiles informed him.
“I did not.”
“You definitely did.”
Derek frowned.
“She punched a man through a wall yesterday.”
“That’s her normal mood.”
Fair.
Still—
Leah had stopped attending meetings unless necessary.
Stopped staying after gatherings.
Stopped looking at Derek for longer than two seconds.
Which bothered him more than expected.
Peter noticed immediately.
Naturally.
“You miss her.”
“I don’t.”
“You stared at the doorway for fifteen minutes.”
“I was thinking.”
“About her.”
“About murder.”
“Still emotionally related.”
Derek looked genuinely offended.
---
Leah finally snapped during a weapons negotiation in Seattle.
The meeting already sucked.
Humans were involved.
Everyone hated humans.
Then one dealer insulted Derek.
Leah immediately pulled a knife on him.
“Say it again.”
The entire room froze.
Derek stared at her.
The man wisely shut up.
Later, outside beneath cold rain, Derek cornered Leah near the parking garage.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
Leah crossed her arms defensively.
“Yes I did.”
“Why?”
The question lingered between them.
Leah looked away first.
“That idiot implied weakness.”
“So?”
“So people die when others think they’re weak.”
Derek understood then.
Leah protected people through violence because nobody protected her first.
The realization hurt unexpectedly.
“You care,” Derek said quietly.
Leah scoffed immediately.
“Don’t make this weird.”
Too late.
Because Derek stepped closer slowly.
And Leah—
Leah didn’t move away.
Rain soaked both of them while city lights blurred gold behind them.
“You stayed beside me during the fire fight last month,” Derek murmured.
“You got surrounded.”
“You got stabbed.”
“You’re bigger than me.”
“That’s your argument?”
“It’s a good argument.”
Derek laughed softly.
Leah froze.
Because Derek Hale rarely laughed.
And somehow—
It felt unfairly intimate.
“Oh,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
Derek looked at her carefully.
Then finally—
Finally—
Touched her face gently.
Like he thought she might disappear.
Leah’s breath caught.
“You terrify me,” Derek admitted quietly.
Leah smirked slightly.
“Good.”
Then she kissed him first.
Naturally.
Because subtlety had never existed in their relationship.
---
Unfortunately, romance paused immediately afterward because the Volturi officially declared war.
Which honestly ruined everyone’s week.
---
“They sent heads.”
Stiles blinked slowly.
“…Human heads?”
“Unfortunately.”
“That feels dramatic.”
“They are dramatic,” Edward muttered darkly.
The emergency meeting inside Cullen territory felt suffocating.
Ancient vampires filled the room alongside wolves and hunters.
Weapons covered every table.
Maps spread everywhere.
And for the first time since forming the alliance—
Everyone looked genuinely afraid.
“They want surrender,” Carlisle said quietly.
“And if we refuse?” Scott asked.
Edward’s expression turned cold.
“They exterminate us.”
Silence followed.
Then Stiles spoke softly:
“Well. That’s rude.”
Embry nearly smiled despite everything.
---
The war lasted three months.
Three brutal months of blood, fire, betrayals, and survival.
And somehow—
The alliance held.
Because every pack fought for each other now.
Not territory.
Not money.
Family.
---
Forks wolves guarded Cullen compounds.
Vampires protected Beacon Hills shipments.
Hunters trained beside werewolves.
And Stiles?
Stiles became the center holding everyone together.
“Sleep,” Embry ordered one night.
Stiles sat surrounded by paperwork and injury reports.
“I can’t.”
“You’ve been awake thirty hours.”
“There are missing routes in Portland.”
“There will still be routes after you rest.”
Stiles rubbed tired eyes.
Embry crouched beside his chair carefully.
Then kissed his forehead gently.
The exhaustion in Stiles’ chest eased immediately.
Magic.
Honestly.
“You always do that,” Stiles muttered sleepily.
“Do what?”
“Make things feel less terrible.”
Embry smiled softly.
“Only because you do it first.”
---
The final battle happened in Seattle.
Because of course it did.
Every disaster happened in Seattle apparently.
---
Rain thundered across the docks while supernatural warfare erupted everywhere.
Vampires moved like shadows between shipping containers.
Wolves tore through enemies brutally.
Gunfire echoed endlessly.
The Volturi came dressed elegantly for murder.
Which honestly felt rude.
Stiles directed evacuations through radio channels while Embry protected him viciously nearby.
“You good?” Stiles yelled.
Embry threw someone through a wall.
“Fantastic.”
“Love that for you.”
---
Elsewhere—
Jacob and Edward fought back-to-back against vampires twice their age.
“This is romantic!” Jacob shouted over explosions.
Edward ripped someone’s throat out elegantly.
“You need standards.”
“You’re literally my standards now.”
Edward almost missed a shot.
Which for him counted as emotional devastation.
---
Near the eastern docks, Derek and Leah fought like absolute monsters together.
Perfect synchronization.
Silent trust.
Leah covered Derek’s blind spots instinctively.
Derek protected her without hesitation.
At one point Leah got cornered by three Volturi guards.
Derek shifted partially immediately.
Not controlled.
Not calm.
Feral.
Terrifying.
The attackers didn’t survive long.
Afterward Leah stared at him breathlessly.
“You went full psycho wolf.”
“They touched you.”
Leah’s heart did something deeply inconvenient.
---
Then disaster struck.
Because the Volturi leader reached Stiles.
---
One second Embry fought across the dockyard.
The next—
Stiles disappeared.
The bond exploded with panic instantly.
Embry froze.
Every wolf froze with him.
Because the emotional scream through the mating bond felt unbearable.
Fear.
Pain.
Stiles.
Embry lost control completely.
---
The warehouse overlooking the harbor stood silent except for dripping water.
Stiles sat restrained against a chair glaring furiously at the ancient vampire before him.
“You know,” he said conversationally, “this kidnapping thing is getting repetitive.”
“You unite monsters,” the vampire replied calmly.
“Rude but fair.”
“You make them weak.”
Stiles laughed softly.
“No.”
His expression sharpened.
“I make them human.”
The vampire moved instantly—
Then stopped.
Because the entire building shook violently.
Outside—
Wolves howled.
Not ordinary howls.
War howls.
Pack howls.
And at the center of them—
Embry.
Furious.
Terrified.
Coming.
The vampire sighed softly.
“How unfortunate.”
Then the wall exploded inward.
---
Embry looked terrifying.
Blood-covered.
Eyes blazing gold.
Claws fully extended.
Pure rage wrapped in human skin.
The vampire barely had time to react before Embry attacked.
The fight was vicious.
Ancient strength against desperate devotion.
But the Volturi underestimated one thing.
Embry wasn’t fighting for power.
He was fighting for Stiles.
And love made monsters dangerous.
Very dangerous.
The battle ended brutally.
Then suddenly—
Silence.
Embry immediately dropped beside Stiles ripping restraints apart with shaking hands.
“You hurt?”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Tiny amount.”
Embry grabbed his face desperately.
Like needing proof.
Real.
Alive.
Safe.
Stiles’ expression softened instantly.
“Oh babe.”
Embry actually looked close to panic.
“You disappeared.”
“I know.”
“You disappeared.”
The repeated words sounded broken.
Terrified.
And Stiles finally understood fully—
Embry would survive anything except losing him.
So Stiles pulled him close immediately.
“I’m here.”
Embry buried his face against his neck breathing shakily.
The mark there pulsed warmly between them.
Alive.
Together.
Forever.
---
The war ended before dawn.
The alliance won.
Barely.
But enough.
The surviving Volturi fled overseas.
And for the first time in decades—
The West Coast belonged entirely to its own monsters.
Free.
---
Months later, life finally became quieter.
Not normal.
Never normal.
But happy.
Which mattered more.
---
Forks territory expanded peacefully now.
The Cullen Syndicate opened underground medical networks protecting supernatural communities.
Beacon Hills became neutral ground between packs and vampires.
And somehow—
Everyone survived long enough to become a family.
---
Emily eventually hosted a massive celebration at the Forks mansion.
Which meant chaos immediately.
Music blasted through the house.
Wolves danced badly.
Vampires judged everyone silently.
Peter flirted with danger constantly.
And Stiles?
Stiles stood on the balcony overlooking the ocean while Embry wrapped warm arms around him from behind.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Embry murmured.
“I do that.”
“You survived a war.”
“We survived a war.”
Embry kissed the mating mark softly.
Stiles melted immediately.
Still.
After all this time.
Still.
“You happy?” Embry asked quietly.
Stiles looked through the mansion windows.
At their family.
Scott laughing with Sam.
Emily threatening Paul with kitchen utensils.
Jacob aggressively cuddling Edward while Edward pretended not to enjoy it.
Leah sitting beside Derek with their knees touching quietly.
Lydia arguing with Peter.
Chaos.
Love.
Home.
Then Stiles leaned back against Embry fully.
“Yeah,” he whispered honestly.
“I really am.”
Embry smiled against his neck.
And somewhere beyond the cliffs—
The wolves howled one final time.
Not in grief.
Not in rage.
But in belonging.
---
****************
---
Ten years later—
The supernatural underworld no longer whispered the name Stiles Stilinski with amusement.
They whispered it with fear.
Respect.
Careful strategy.
Because somewhere along the way, the loud-mouthed human everyone underestimated became the most dangerous man on the West Coast.
Not because he was the strongest.
Not because he was supernatural.
But because Stiles Stilinski could end wars with a conversation and destroy empires with a smile.
---
“They surrendered?”
Scott blinked across the conference table.
Stiles looked up calmly from paperwork.
“They had three options.”
“And?”
“I emotionally manipulated them.”
Peter burst into hysterical laughter immediately.
Embry sat beside Stiles looking deeply in love and completely unsurprised.
Derek rubbed his temples.
“What exactly did you say?”
Stiles shrugged casually.
“I told them I was disappointed.”
“…That’s it?”
“I also implied their mothers would hate them.”
Silence.
Then Sam muttered quietly:
“Terrifying.”
---
The supernatural mafia world had changed dramatically over the decade.
The old violent territories no longer existed in the same way.
Instead—
The West Coast became organized beneath one massive alliance:
The Beacon-Forks-Cullen Coalition.
And unofficially?
Everyone knew who truly held it together.
Stiles.
“The Kingmaker of Beacon Hills.”
A title Peter invented during a drunken poker game.
Unfortunately—
It stuck.
---
Stiles never officially became alpha.
Never ruled through claws or violence.
Instead—
He ruled through strategy.
Information.
Negotiation.
Terrifying emotional intelligence.
“You can’t threaten me,” one crime lord sneered once during negotiations.
Stiles smiled pleasantly.
Three days later the man’s wife sent divorce papers, his accountant vanished, and his own soldiers switched sides.
The man surrendered within a week.
Even Derek looked frightened afterward.
“How did you do that?”
Stiles sipped coffee calmly.
“Networking.”
Embry looked so proud it was embarrassing.
---
Their relationship only became worse over time.
Worse in the most disgustingly devoted way possible.
Ten years later and Embry still looked at Stiles like he hung the moon.
Still touched him constantly.
Still growled when people flirted.
Still slept better with Stiles wrapped against his chest.
“You’re staring again,” Lydia muttered during one meeting.
Embry didn’t even deny it anymore.
Stiles grinned shamelessly from his seat beside him.
Across the table, Jacob gagged dramatically.
“You two are still nauseating.”
Edward adjusted his cufflinks elegantly.
“And yet you proposed during a knife fight.”
“That was romantic.”
“It was medically concerning.”
“You said yes.”
Edward looked away immediately.
Everyone laughed.
---
Because yes—
Jacob Black and Edward Cullen eventually got married.
And it became the single most chaotic event in supernatural history.
---
The wedding took six months to plan.
Mostly because Alice Cullen became terrifying.
“Absolutely not.”
Jacob stared at the white suit in horror.
“I look like a rich marshmallow.”
“You look elegant,” Alice hissed.
“I look kidnapped.”
Edward secretly loved the suit.
Unfortunately for him, Jacob noticed immediately.
“Oh my God,” Jacob whispered dramatically.
“You’re becoming a bridezilla.”
Edward looked offended.
“I simply appreciate aesthetic consistency.”
Bella cackled loudly from the couch.
Carlisle quietly left the room before chaos escalated.
---
The wedding itself looked like vampire royalty met mafia extravagance.
Black roses.
Silver candles.
Moonlit forest ceremony.
Armed guards in designer suits.
Classical music mixed with motorcycle engines.
Very on-brand for them honestly.
Jacob refused to walk normally down the aisle.
Instead—
He arrived on a motorcycle.
Through the forest.
While wolves howled dramatically.
Edward nearly had an aneurysm.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you love me.”
“…Unfortunately.”
---
Then the wolves pranked the vampires.
Because naturally they did.
Paul replaced expensive champagne with blood bags labeled:
“Edward’s emergency juice boxes.”
Emmett laughed so hard he fell over furniture.
Alice threatened murder.
Jacob nearly cried laughing.
Edward calmly plotted revenge for three months afterward.
And succeeded beautifully.
During the reception, every wolf discovered their drinks temporarily smelled like flea shampoo.
The fight afterward destroyed two tables.
Emily banned everyone from future indoor wrestling.
---
Despite the chaos—
The wedding became legendary.
Because for the first time in supernatural history—
Wolves and vampires celebrated together as family.
Not enemies.
Family.
And at the center of it all—
Stiles stood beside Embry watching quietly.
“You did this,” Embry whispered softly.
Stiles frowned.
“Did what?”
“This.”
Embry gestured toward the dancing wolves and vampires.
The laughter.
The peace.
The impossible unity.
“You made everyone belong somewhere.”
Stiles stared silently for a moment.
Then looked away awkwardly.
“…Rude. Don’t say emotional things in public.”
Embry kissed his temple anyway.
---
Meanwhile—
Derek Hale and Leah Clearwater somehow became the strongest couple in the entire coalition.
Nobody understood how.
Not even them.
---
Unlike other couples—
Their relationship stayed quiet.
Subtle.
Deep.
No dramatic declarations.
No public affection.
Just trust built slowly over years.
Late-night patrol drives became their thing first.
Hours spent riding through territories together in silence.
Sometimes talking.
Sometimes not.
Neither minded.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s minor.”
Leah pulled the car over instantly.
Derek blinked.
“What are you doing?”
“You got stabbed.”
“It barely counts.”
Leah glared at him.
Derek immediately stopped talking.
Over time, she started carrying medical supplies specifically for him.
Derek pretended not to notice.
Everyone else noticed immediately.
---
Leah also became terrifyingly protective.
Especially after realizing people feared Derek more than they understood him.
One man mocked Derek during a negotiation once.
Leah put a knife through the table beside his hand without blinking.
“He outranks you.”
Silence.
Derek stared at her quietly afterward.
Later that night, while driving back through rainy Beacon Hills streets, he finally asked:
“Why do you always defend me?”
Leah kept eyes on the road.
“Because nobody defended me either.”
That answer broke something soft open inside Derek.
So instead of pushing—
He reached across the console silently.
And held her hand.
Leah froze for exactly three seconds.
Then intertwined their fingers tightly.
No words needed.
---
Years later, Derek changed in ways nobody expected.
He laughed more.
Smiled easier.
Relaxed around pack members.
And the terrifying thing?
Leah became softer too.
Not weak.
Never weak.
But warmer.
Especially with kids.
Which absolutely shocked everyone.
---
The first time pack children climbed into Leah’s lap during meetings—
Scott nearly fainted.
Peter took photos.
Leah threatened violence.
But she still held the sleepy toddlers gently while discussing weapons shipments.
Derek looked deeply in love the entire time.
---
Other relationships formed too over the years.
Because peace allowed people to finally live instead of survive.
---
Quil & Lydia
Nobody expected this one.
Least of all Lydia.
It started with arguments.
Then mutual strategy meetings.
Then accidental flirting.
Then Quil got stabbed protecting her during an ambush.
Which complicated everything immediately.
“You’re reckless,” Lydia snapped while stitching his shoulder.
“You yelled my name.”
“You were bleeding.”
“You care.”
Lydia looked murderous.
Quil grinned despite pain.
And somehow—
That was basically their love confession.
Years later they became the coalition’s intelligence network.
The terrifyingly attractive power couple everyone feared.
Lydia handled information.
Quil handled field operations.
Together?
Absolute nightmare.
---
Paul & Erica
This relationship began through violence.
Obviously.
Paul flirted aggressively.
Erica punched him.
Paul fell in love instantly.
“You broke my nose.”
“You deserved worse.”
“Marry me.”
“You’re insane.”
Correct.
Entirely correct.
Their relationship stayed chaotic forever.
They fought loudly.
Loved louder.
And somehow balanced each other perfectly.
Erica understood Paul’s anger without fearing it.
Paul adored her confidence like religion.
They became the coalition’s enforcement leaders eventually.
Terrifying duo.
Nobody survived making Erica upset.
And absolutely nobody survived making Paul upset about Erica.
---
Isaac & Alice Cullen
This one surprised everyone.
Especially because Isaac was initially terrified of Alice.
“She knows things before they happen.”
“Yes,” Stiles replied.
“That’s horrifying.”
“She also buys designer clothes for people without permission.”
“…Okay that’s scarier.”
But Alice liked Isaac’s quiet kindness immediately.
And Isaac—
after years of trauma—
found peace in someone who always saw him coming before he arrived.
Alice never let him feel forgotten.
Isaac never let her feel alone.
They became strangely perfect together.
Elegant chaos.
---
Scott & Allison
Of course they found each other again eventually.
Some things were inevitable.
Scott matured into a respected alpha leader.
Allison became one of the most feared tacticians in the coalition.
Together?
Dangerously effective.
And still painfully in love.
Some things never changed.
---
Sam & Emily
The heart of everything.
Still.
Always.
No matter how large the coalition became—
everyone eventually ended up at Sam and Emily’s house.
Emily cooked enough food for armies.
Sam mediated arguments before they became murders.
And together—
they remained home for the entire pack.
Even Stiles admitted it eventually.
Quietly.
Never where people could tease him.
---
Years passed.
The coalition expanded internationally.
And then—
The next generation arrived.
That’s when things truly became dangerous.
Because supernatural children born from wolves, vampires, hunters, and humans changed everything.
---
The Next Generation
Stiles Stilinski & Embry Call
Children:
Elias Call-Stilinski
Mira Call-Stilinski
Stiles and Embry adopted first.
Then later unexpectedly had hybrid children through ancient supernatural bonding magic tied to the mating mark.
Which absolutely terrified every scientist and supernatural elder alive.
Elias inherited:
Embry’s wolf instincts
Stiles’ intelligence
enhanced emotional manipulation abilities
ability to sense lies instantly
At age seven, he accidentally negotiated peace between two rival school gangs using blackmail and snacks.
Stiles cried proudly.
Embry looked horrified.
Mira inherited:
glowing golden wolf eyes
supernatural hearing
partial psychic abilities from Stiles’ emotional bond magic
She could feel emotions across distances.
Which made family arguments impossible to hide.
Peter called her “tiny terrifying oracle child.”
She adored him unfortunately.
---
Jacob Black & Edward Cullen
Children:
Lucas Cullen-Black
Rosalie “Rose” Cullen-Black
Their children shocked everyone because hybrids between wolves and vampires weren’t supposed to exist naturally.
Apparently fate disagreed.
Lucas inherited:
vampire speed
wolf strength
golden-red shifting eyes
temperature resistance
Unlike vampires, he could walk in sunlight naturally.
The Volturi remnants became obsessed with him immediately.
Which created future political disasters.
Rose inherited:
Edward’s mind-reading
Jacob’s emotional imprint sensitivity
advanced healing abilities
As a child she accidentally exposed three mafia spies because she heard them thinking.
Edward looked simultaneously proud and exhausted.
Jacob called her “his tiny menace princess.”
---
Derek Hale & Leah Clearwater
Children:
Noah Hale
Talia Hale
Their children became some of the strongest wolves born in generations.
Noah inherited:
advanced alpha instincts
enhanced speed
emotional pack-link abilities
He could stabilize angry wolves just by being nearby.
Which honestly made him terrifying politically.
Talia inherited:
Leah’s combat instincts
Derek’s control
ability to partially phase without shifting fully
At age twelve she beat three grown wolves during training.
Leah laughed for twenty minutes.
Derek looked proud enough to combust.
---
Quil & Lydia
Daughter:
Selene Martin-Call
Selene inherited:
banshee abilities
wolf instincts
advanced prophetic visions
Unfortunately, her visions became extremely accurate.
Entire syndicates feared her predictions.
She hated formal meetings though.
Preferred motorcycles and knives.
Very unfortunate combination.
---
Paul & Erica
Twins:
Axel
Nova
Chaos incarnate.
The entire family feared them.
Axel inherited:
explosive wolf strength
emotional amplification abilities
His temper literally affected nearby wolves.
Nova inherited:
Erica’s manipulation skills
enhanced glamour abilities
At fourteen she convinced three security teams to let her into restricted meetings “for fun.”
Stiles nearly adopted her immediately.
---
Isaac & Alice
Son:
Adrian Whitlock-Lahey
Elegant.
Terrifying.
Psychic.
Adrian inherited Alice’s visions and Isaac’s emotional sensitivity.
Unlike most seers, he could alter probabilities slightly.
Nobody trusted him during poker games.
Correctly.
---
The Future Wars
Unfortunately—
Peace never lasted forever.
Especially with hybrid heirs now existing.
Because ancient supernatural laws forbade hybrid bloodlines from ruling.
Which meant the next generation immediately became targets.
The old families feared change.
And the coalition children represented a completely new future.
Wolf-vampire alliances.
Hunter-wolf marriages.
Human strategists ruling supernatural empires.
Everything traditional power structures hated.
---
The children grew up together anyway.
Like cousins.
Like siblings.
Like future rulers raised in chaos and love.
Pack reunions became legendary.
---
Every year all families gathered at the Forks estate.
And despite maturity, responsibility, and terrifying political power—
They still became disasters together.
Jacob still tackled people into lakes.
Paul still started arguments for entertainment.
Peter still manipulated poker games.
Stiles still weaponized emotional disappointment.
And Derek?
Derek actually smiled now.
Frequently.
Which honestly frightened everyone more than his anger ever had.
---
One winter reunion, snow covered the entire estate while children ran screaming through hallways.
Emily supervised dinner.
Sam handled security updates.
Edward complained about Jacob teaching children illegal motorcycle tricks.
Jacob defended himself aggressively.
“It builds character.”
“It builds lawsuits.”
Meanwhile upstairs—
Stiles stood on the balcony beside Embry watching everyone below.
Their children laughed near the bonfire while wolves howled somewhere in distant forests.
“You ever think about how insane our lives became?” Stiles asked softly.
Embry wrapped warm arms around him from behind automatically.
“All the time.”
“We started with kidnapping.”
“You never let that go.”
“You literally committed crimes.”
Embry laughed softly against his neck.
Still his favorite sound after all these years.
Then Stiles looked through the windows again.
At family.
At love.
At the empire they built accidentally.
And maybe the world still remained dangerous.
Maybe enemies still waited.
Maybe future wars would come for their children someday.
But for now—
They were together.
And together?
They were unstoppable.
---
Far below the balcony—
Mira Call-Stilinski suddenly looked upward sharply.
Golden eyes glowing faintly.
“What?” Elias asked.
Mira smiled slowly.
“Nothing.”
But deep in the forests beyond the estate—
New wolves howled.
Future bonds stirred.
And somewhere far away—
Fate began another story.
*********
---
Rain always reminded Stiles of his mother.
Not storms.
Not thunder.
Just soft rain.
The kind that soaked quietly into the earth and made the whole world smell clean afterward.
Claudia Stilinski used to love rainy days.
She would make tea, pull blankets into the living room, and read while Noah pretended not to fall asleep beside her.
Stiles remembered everything.
That was the problem.
He remembered too much.
---
The cemetery sat just outside Beacon Hills beneath towering cedar trees.
Silent.
Peaceful.
Untouched by mafia wars, supernatural politics, blood feuds, or power struggles.
No wolves guarded this place.
No vampires lingered nearby.
No weapons existed beyond grief itself.
And somehow—
That made it sacred.
Stiles stood alone beneath a black umbrella staring quietly at the gravestone.
Claudia Stilinski
Beloved Wife and Mother
The dates beneath her name still hurt.
Even after all these years.
Even after happiness.
Even after love.
Some losses simply learned how to live beside you instead of inside you.
A small hand slipped into his suddenly.
“Papa?”
Stiles looked down immediately softening.
Mira.
Eight years old.
Dark curls.
Golden wolf eyes.
And Claudia’s smile somehow.
Beside her stood Elias bundled in an oversized jacket while trying unsuccessfully to hide the flowers behind his back.
“We brought extras,” Elias muttered awkwardly.
Stiles’ chest hurt painfully.
Because his children had learned him too well already.
Embry approached quietly from behind carrying coffee for everyone.
Always knowing.
Always paying attention.
“You disappeared before breakfast,” Embry said softly.
Stiles shrugged slightly.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
Embry handed him coffee without another word.
Warm vanilla latte.
Extra cinnamon.
Exactly right.
Because after twenty years together, Embry could read Stiles without language.
Mira carefully crouched beside the gravestone.
“Hi grandma,” she whispered seriously.
Stiles immediately looked away toward the trees before emotions became embarrassing.
Embry noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His fingers brushed gently against Stiles’ wrist.
Grounding.
There.
Always there.
---
The children never met Claudia.
But they knew her anyway.
Through stories.
Pictures.
Noah’s memories.
Stiles’ grief.
“She would’ve loved you,” Noah always told them.
And somehow—
They believed him completely.
Elias placed flowers carefully near the grave.
“I got the blue ones because Grandpa said she liked them.”
“She did,” Stiles said quietly.
Mira tilted her head thoughtfully.
“Do you think she can see us?”
The question settled heavily in the rain.
Stiles opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Because honestly?
After vampires, werewolves, supernatural bonds, banshees, and literal impossible magic—
Who was he to say no?
“I think,” he said carefully, “love leaves pieces of people behind.”
Mira frowned thoughtfully.
“Like ghost glitter?”
Embry made a choking sound suspiciously like laughter.
Stiles grinned despite himself.
“Yes. Exactly like ghost glitter.”
Satisfied, Mira nodded solemnly.
---
After a while the children wandered slightly toward nearby trees chasing each other quietly.
Embry remained beside Stiles.
Neither spoke for several minutes.
Rain tapped softly against umbrellas.
“You still come here when things get heavy,” Embry murmured eventually.
Stiles exhaled slowly.
“Guess I always will.”
Embry nodded once.
No judgment.
No pushing.
Just understanding.
Stiles leaned lightly against him.
“You know what sucks?”
“Many things.”
“Helpful.”
Embry smiled faintly.
Stiles stared at the gravestone again.
“I wish she met you.”
Embry froze slightly beside him.
Then softer—
“I wish that too.”
Because Claudia Stilinski would’ve adored Embry.
Stiles knew it instinctively.
She would’ve seen through the dangerous reputation immediately.
Straight to the devotion underneath.
To the boy who loved too fiercely.
To the man who still checked doors twice at night because trauma never fully left him.
To the father who carried sleeping children upstairs like something sacred.
She would’ve loved him.
And Embry would’ve loved her too.
The realization hurt beautifully.
---
“Papa!”
Mira suddenly sprinted back toward them holding something in both hands.
“A frog blessed me.”
“…A what?”
The child proudly revealed a soaking wet frog sitting calmly in her palms.
Elias looked horrified.
“She named him Fernando.”
“Excellent,” Stiles replied immediately.
Embry sighed toward the sky.
“Why are they like this?”
“You married me voluntarily.”
“Fair point.”
---
Eventually they left the cemetery together.
But Stiles glanced back once before entering the SUV.
Rain blurred the gravestone softly beneath grey skies.
And for just a second—
He didn’t feel grief.
Only love.
Still there.
Still waiting.
Still home.
---
Noah Stilinski’s house looked exactly the same.
Which honestly felt offensive considering how much the rest of their lives changed.
The same porch swing.
The same cracked driveway.
The same ugly mailbox Stiles once backed into accidentally during high school.
“Somebody should fix that,” Embry muttered.
“No,” Noah said immediately from the porch.
Everyone looked up.
The Sheriff stood holding coffee while watching them with familiar amusement.
“That mailbox survived supernatural wars. It earned retirement.”
Mira launched herself at him instantly.
“GRANDPA.”
Noah caught her automatically laughing softly.
Elias followed with significantly more dignity.
Which lasted exactly four seconds before Noah ruffled his hair aggressively.
“Hey kid.”
Embry hugged Noah next.
Because somewhere over the years—
Noah Stilinski stopped seeing Embry as the wolf who kidnapped his son.
And started seeing him as family.
Though occasionally he still threatened him for nostalgia purposes.
“You keeping him alive?” Noah asked dryly.
Embry looked toward Stiles thoughtfully.
“Mostly.”
“Rude,” Stiles muttered.
---
The house smelled like coffee and old memories.
The moment Stiles stepped inside—
It hit him all at once.
Childhood.
Late-night homework.
Arguments.
Laughter.
His mother singing softly in the kitchen.
His father falling asleep during movies.
Normal.
Back before monsters and mafia empires changed everything.
“You okay?”
Embry’s voice grounded him instantly.
Stiles realized he’d stopped walking.
“Yeah.”
But Embry looked unconvinced.
Because of course he did.
The man practically had a doctorate in reading Stiles emotionally.
“You got quiet.”
“I’m reflecting.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Wow.”
Noah snorted loudly from the kitchen.
“Still flirting like idiots after twenty years.”
“Yes,” Stiles answered proudly.
“No,” Embry answered simultaneously.
The children laughed immediately.
---
Lunch became chaos quickly.
Naturally.
Mira accidentally phased partially trying to reach cookies.
Elias argued politics with Noah despite being twelve.
Embry cooked because apparently mafia werewolves became terrifyingly domestic with age.
And Stiles?
Stiles sat at the kitchen counter watching everyone quietly.
Happy.
Which still felt strange sometimes.
Because younger Stiles never imagined surviving long enough to have this.
A family.
Peace.
Children.
A home filled with laughter instead of fear.
“You’re doing the thing again,” Noah said softly while passing him coffee.
“The what?”
“The emotional staring.”
Embry looked up immediately.
“He does that when overwhelmed.”
Stiles pointed accusingly.
“You’re both conspiring against me.”
“Correct,” Noah said calmly.
Traitors.
Both of them.
---
Later that evening Noah convinced the children to help clean the garage.
Which was suspicious immediately.
“They’re plotting,” Stiles muttered.
Embry leaned against the porch railing beside him.
“Absolutely.”
The sun dipped low across Beacon Hills casting golden light through trees.
For once—
No guards surrounded the property.
No emergency meetings waited.
No enemies hunted them.
Just quiet.
Embry slid an arm around Stiles’ waist automatically.
Still instinctive after all these years.
Still grounding.
“You’ve been thinking a lot lately,” Embry said carefully.
Stiles sighed softly.
“Getting old does that.”
“You’re forty-three.”
“My back disagrees.”
Embry laughed quietly.
God.
That sound still wrecked him.
---
“You regret anything?”
The question escaped before Stiles fully meant to ask it.
Embry looked surprised.
Then thoughtful.
“About us?”
“About everything.”
The mafia wars.
The violence.
The impossible life they built together.
Embry considered carefully before answering.
“I regret how much pain happened.”
His hand tightened slightly against Stiles’ waist.
“But never you.”
The honesty in his voice still hit just as hard after decades.
“You know,” Stiles murmured, “most people buy flowers during emotional conversations.”
“You’d forget to water them.”
“Fair.”
Embry kissed his forehead gently.
And suddenly—
Stiles remembered being twenty-one.
Kidnapped.
Terrified.
Falling in love with dangerous eyes and protective hands.
He remembered thinking this relationship would destroy him someday.
Instead—
It built him a home.
Funny how life worked sometimes.
---
Inside the garage, meanwhile—
Chaos.
Absolute chaos.
“Grandpa, why do you own handcuffs?”
Noah nearly dropped an entire toolbox.
“ASK YOUR FATHER.”
Inside the house, Stiles immediately yelled:
“IT WAS ONE TIME.”
Embry looked suspiciously amused.
---
As night settled over Beacon Hills, more family members started arriving unexpectedly.
Because apparently nobody respected boundaries anymore.
Scott arrived first with Allison and their twins.
Then Derek and Leah.
Then Jacob and Edward arguing already.
“You cannot teach children how to pick locks.”
“It’s a survival skill.”
“It’s illegal.”
“We’re literally mafia.”
Edward looked offended by the logic.
Behind them, Lucas Cullen-Black casually carried three cakes while Rose read minds accidentally and announced:
“Aunt Lydia is winning poker again.”
“STOP CHEATING,” Peter yelled from inside immediately.
“I’m not cheating,” Lydia called back calmly.
Selene Martin-Call muttered:
“You absolutely are.”
---
Soon Noah’s house overflowed completely.
Children everywhere.
Wolves wrestling in the backyard.
Vampires judging everyone elegantly.
Pack reunions remained chaotic regardless of age apparently.
Leah sat silently beside Derek on the porch steps watching children run through the yard.
Derek handed her coffee without asking.
Leah accepted automatically.
Comfortable.
Easy.
Years ago neither of them believed softness belonged to them.
Now?
Derek rested a hand quietly against her knee while she leaned slightly into his shoulder.
No dramatic declarations.
No unnecessary words.
Just home.
---
“You know,” Jacob announced loudly from the kitchen, “Edward cried during our wedding vows.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You literally sparkled emotionally.”
“That sentence is a hate crime.”
Mira gasped dramatically.
“Dad, what’s emotional sparkling?”
Stiles nearly inhaled soda wrong.
Across the room, Embry buried his face in his hands laughing silently.
“No one answer that,” Edward said immediately.
Too late.
Paul already looked delighted.
---
As the night deepened, conversations shifted softer.
Older.
More reflective.
The younger generation eventually drifted outside toward bonfires while the adults remained inside around the dining table.
For a moment—
Quiet settled.
Rare.
Comfortable.
Scott looked around slowly.
“We survived.”
Everyone stilled slightly.
Because they all understood what he meant.
The wars.
The losses.
The impossible odds.
All of it.
They survived long enough to become this.
Family.
Sam reached for Emily’s hand quietly.
Jacob leaned against Edward’s shoulder without embarrassment now.
Derek’s fingers brushed Leah’s absentmindedly beneath the table.
And Embry?
Embry looked at Stiles exactly the same way he did twenty years ago.
Like love remained overwhelming even now.
“You’re staring again,” Stiles muttered softly.
Embry smiled faintly.
“Always will.”
And honestly?
That still made Stiles weak.
---
Outside, Elias sat near the bonfire beside Lucas and Noah Hale.
The next generation.
Future leaders.
Future disasters.
“You think we’ll have to fight wars too?” Noah asked quietly.
Lucas poked the fire thoughtfully.
“Probably.”
Silence.
Then Elias shrugged slightly.
“We’ll win.”
Because they were raised by survivors.
By monsters who chose love anyway.
By people who turned enemies into family.
And somewhere inside the house behind them—
Their parents laughed together loudly enough to echo through open windows.
Safe.
For now.
---
Much later, after everyone finally left and children fell asleep scattered through Noah’s living room—
Stiles stepped outside one last time.
The porch creaked softly beneath him.
Cool night air wrapped around Beacon Hills quietly.
Embry joined him moments later carrying blankets.
Always prepared.
Always taking care of people.
“You’re doing emotional staring again,” Embry informed him.
“It’s hereditary.”
Embry wrapped blankets around both of them before settling beside him on the porch swing.
For several minutes neither spoke.
The comfortable silence of people who knew each other completely.
Then Stiles whispered softly:
“Do you think we did okay?”
Embry looked genuinely confused.
“At what?”
Stiles gestured vaguely toward the sleeping house.
The children.
The family.
The life they somehow created from violence and chaos.
Embry stared quietly through the window for a moment.
At Mira curled asleep beside Leah.
At Elias passed out near Noah’s recliner.
At their people.
Their pack.
Then Embry looked back at Stiles.
“You gave all of them something we never had.”
Stiles frowned slightly.
“What?”
Embry’s expression softened impossibly.
“A future.”
And suddenly—
Suddenly—
Stiles felt it all at once.
Every version of himself layered together.
The grieving boy beside his mother’s hospital bed.
The reckless teenager terrified of losing everyone.
The kidnapped young man falling in love despite himself.
The strategist.
The husband.
The father.
The kingmaker.
All of them somehow survived long enough to reach this moment.
Home.
Real home.
Not territory.
Not power.
People.
Love.
Belonging.
Stiles rested his head against Embry’s shoulder quietly.
And for the first time in a very long while—
The future didn’t feel frightening.
Only full.
