Derek had seen pictures of what a city looked like, and had heard plenty of stories, but those couldn’t compare to the experience of seeing one for the first time. He’d known the buildings were tall and that there were humans everywhere, but he never realized the full extent of what it all actually meant.

The buildings towered over him, rising and falling in what reminded him of walking through the passes between the mountains. Humans were everywhere, individually and in groups, and with such variety that it boggled his mind. A group of humans who were about his age might pass him by, followed by a family, then would come a couple of elderly people. All going about their business, living and working so close to one another, yet somehow managing to not collide.

The city itself lay at the feet of the nearby mountains, but the elevation was high enough that Derek still felt reasonably comfortable with the air. At least until he rolled the window down and the acrid smell of exhaust fumes and chemical pollution assaulted his nose. As much as the variety of buildings and people amazed him, he wasn’t too fond of the smells. In fact, the city seemed built to assault just about every sense he possessed. If it wasn’t the smell of chemicals, food, or smoke, it was the honking of car horns, music blaring from phones or speakers, and people talking everywhere; noises that seemed to come from every angle plagued his mind. He felt dizzy trying to keep up with everything, even from the relative safety of the back seat of the car he sat in.

The driver of the car was a young werewolf by the name of Richard. Richard was even less talkative than Erin, and had barely said a word since meeting Derek at the halfway point. It looked like the werewolf would be his escort to wherever he was supposed to go. Derek hoped the grumpy looking werewolf wasn’t going to be responsible for taking Derek everywhere. As much as he didn’t like the city, Derek disliked the cold and dismissive welcome Richard was giving him even less.

Derek eyed what felt like the hundredth advertisement for an art show. “This place is pretty big on art, isn’t it?”

Richard grunted. “Leeches like it.”

“I guess that makes a certain amount of sense. When you live for centuries, something about art must appeal since it’s celebrated by humans even years after the artist dies,” Derek offered, hoping this was the beginning of a real conversation.

Richard shrugged as he changed lanes. “Don’t really care why.”

Derek repressed a sigh. “Okay. So, where are we going?”

“You’ll see. Won’t be long,” Richard replied.

He could tell his attempts at making conversation with the werewolf were going to be met with repeated failure, so he gave up. From the moment the scout from the sept had taken over escorting him, Derek felt as if he had been doing nothing but sitting down. He’d known he would be stuck inside a car for hours, but he hadn’t anticipated just how mind-numbing it was to just sit and do nothing. Derek wasn’t much for reading, but he would have brought a book to pass the time if he’d known, especially considering Richard was about as entertaining as a lusterless rock.

Richard eventually steered the car to a run-down section of town and up to an equally run-down building that Derek thought had once been a factory. The chimneys situated on top of it were smokeless, however, and there weren’t nearly enough vehicles in the parking lot to indicate the place was open. Derek thought perhaps they would be waiting for someone else to show up, until Richard turned the car off and slid out from the driver’s seat.

“Here?” Derek asked, bewildered, as he grabbed his bag to follow the young werewolf.

Richard nodded, pointing toward the building. “Sean’s the one you need to talk to.”

Derek followed his finger and his heart stuttered when he realized they weren’t the only people in the parking lot. Two others, both male, were making their way from the side entrance of the factory. The tallest of the two had an impassive, expressionless face that could have rivaled Richard’s. It was only after looking at Richard once more that he realized both werewolves were probably related. They had the same thin, sandy hair, and the way they held themselves was almost identical. Then again, Derek thought they might not be. Perhaps they just bore the same unimpressed look that gave the illusion of being related. It was only when he drew closer that Derek could see the stark difference between the two was their eyes. The stranger’s eyes were an odd mixture of colors that he would hesitantly call hazel, while Richard’s were dark green.

The third man was considerably shorter than the rest of them; short even by human standards. Even so, Derek felt his breath catch in his chest at the sight of him. His hair was short, and such a dark brown that it would be easily mistaken for black in dim light. In the sunlight, however, Derek could see a faint reddish hue that was streaked through it, what his mother always called “Gaelic coloring.” He was strongly built, but his size wasn’t disproportionate to his height, and his body moved with the kind of perfect inner rhythm that Derek had only seen from Erin. His eyes were nearly as dark as his hair, and the shadows cast across his face by the sun behind him gave them a hard look.

The shorter werewolf glanced at Richard. “This the one?”

Derek held out his hand, knowing it was the customary greeting for werewolves in human dominated areas. “Derek. It’s a pleasure.”

The werewolf kept his hand at his side as he eyed Derek with distaste. “Sean. Apparently, I’m the one who’s going to be your babysitter while you’re here.”

The sudden rudeness took Derek by surprise, throwing him off-guard. “Is there a problem?”

Sean snorted. “We’ve been asking those snotty assholes in the mountains for a bit of help keeping the Leeches in check, since they can’t be bothered to get their asses down here to do it. Shit’s been getting out of control and it’s not like they don’t have plenty that could help us. All you guys do up there is dance in the woods and fight each other. So what do they send? Someone fresh off the fucking wagon. We ask for help, and they send us some punk newbie.”

Derek leaned back, offended. “I’m a well-trained and educated member of my pack, and of the sept. They didn’t send you some untrained pup.”

Sean rolled his eyes. “Yeah and I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of combat too. Look at you. Not a goddamn mark on you. Don’t think I don’t know they wait before sending some of you mountain people into real battle until you’re what, twenty-five is it? So yeah, you’re young. You’re practically a baby.”

“You don’t look any older than I do,” Derek told him, gripping the strap of his bag.

“Yeah, and I bet I’ve seen more real battles in the past week than you’ve seen in your entire life. They told me they were sending an ‘honored representative of their best pack’ to help us, and I see they sent me a pampered child. ‘Honored representative’ my scrawny ass,” Sean scoffed.

This was not the sort of welcome Derek had been hoping for. True, he had been warned they might not take his presence well, since he wasn’t exactly a platoon of well-seasoned werewolf warriors sent to help. He hadn’t been expecting his first welcome to the City Wolves to be a stony silent car ride followed by an angry little werewolf.

“Can I talk to the Alpha in charge? There seems to have been a misunderstanding,” Derek said, still trying to maintain his manners.

Sean grinned. “The big man up top has decided that we’re the pack you’re going to be helping. And I’m the Alpha of this pack, so, you’re talking to him. Why, did you want to lodge a complaint?”

Derek stared. “You’re a pack that’s…operating under the orders of a different werewolf…that isn’t in your pack?”

“What, you think you mountain folk are the only ones who can work together under a single leader? Operating with a hierarchy, while still maintaining our individual identity through packs is an effective system. We take the best of what you guys work with, without any of that holier-than-thou shit you like to pull. Around here, it doesn’t matter what pack you were born into. What matters is what you do. We follow the Big Man because he earned that right, not because he got there because of his daddy,” Sean said, not even having to end it with another sneer. Derek could hear it in his voice.

“It was my understanding that I would be aiding one of the packs within the city. I wasn’t aware that you had formed a…sept,” Derek said carefully, still confused.

Sean shook his head. “Wow, you guys really don’t give a flying shit what goes on down here, so long as you don’t have to drag your asses off that mountain to dirty your claws on some Leeches. Yeah, we’ve got what you would call a sept, except we don’t have all the priestesses and councils or whatever the hell you guys fill your groups with. Big Man up top keeps an eye on the packs, but each pack alpha is the one who runs their own pack for the most part. Big Man lets us do what we want with our own packs, and we follow him when he finally tells us what’s going to happen.”

Derek couldn’t keep the amazement off his face as he listened. That sort of system sounded amazing to someone who had lived within the rigid hierarchy of his sept. Back home, a pack was technically run by their respective alpha, but that alpha almost always adhered to the standards set by the sept leader and the council. Every alpha within a sept tried to better their position, and the best way to do that was through emulating what had worked for the alphas with greater status.

It was obvious that the status quo in the city, or at least for the packs in Denver, was far different. If the city leader, this “Big Man,” kept a loose hold on the alphas, it meant he fully trusted them to obey him when the time came. From the slight softening of his tone when he spoke of him, Sean seemed to respect this “Big Man” a great deal. A system that relied on trust rather than an understanding of the rules and one’s place in a well-established system sounded to Derek both amazing and like an invitation for chaos.

He tried for the diplomatic approach again. “Well, that certainly sounds interesting.”

Sean didn’t bother to restrain his eye roll. “Which is just your polite way of saying that it sounds wrong.”

“I said nothing of the sort,” Derek protested.

“You don’t have to. It’s written on your face. Just keep in mind: while you’re here, you’re on our territory, and you’ll follow our rules. We’ve got enough problems around here without you trying to change things to what you think is the ‘proper’ way of doing things, got it?” Sean demanded.

Derek was still reeling from the sheer rudeness of the man. Manners were absolutely essential when living in the sept. When you lived in close quarters with the same groups of people, you had to rely on manners and decency to maintain the peace. Even if you didn’t personally like someone you were talking to, you hid it behind polite words and vague statements. Any direct confrontation was dealt with either in private or through arranged combat in the septs training area.

“I had no intention of causing trouble. I came here to help after all,” Derek replied stiffly.

“You’re here to make your sept feel like they’re doing something and to look pretty while doing it, so don’t pretend otherwise. Stephan will show you where you’re staying while you’re here, our most honored guest,” Sean said, bitter sarcasm creating sharp edges in each syllable.

The werewolf who could have been Richard’s brother stepped forward to offer to take Derek’s bag. Thinking he must be Stephan, Derek handed the bag stiffly to the quiet werewolf. He might be as quiet as Richard, but he certainly seemed to have better manners than Sean. Derek could only wonder how anything got done in the pack if their alpha was always this abrasive and unlikable.

“Will I be meeting this ‘Big Man’ you spoke of at any point?” Derek asked politely.

“If he wants to meet with you, you’ll know. I’ll pass on that you want to see him, but he’s busy, so don’t be surprised if he doesn’t have time for the sept’s token gesture of help,” Sean grunted.

Stephan shifted the bag closer and turned to Sean. Derek couldn’t see the larger werewolf’s face, but he could see from the look on Sean’s face there was some sort of silent communication happening. Sean’s face took on an even more annoyed look before rolling his eyes and sighing. Derek wasn’t sure what was being “talked” about, but it wasn’t improving the Alpha’s attitude any.

Sean grunted. “I’ll tell the Big Man that you want to speak to him, okay? Go with Stephan and get settled in, and we’ll talk later about what you might be able to help us with. I’m sure you’re tired after all that driving, since you’re not used to it. Rest up, then come find me when you feel like being useful.”

It was said with a great deal more politeness than anything else he’d said. It also sounded like Sean had to force himself to use the nicest words he could think of. Even if it did end with a snarky comment, Derek would accept it. Even a brief moment of politeness eased the initial bite of the Alpha’s greeting.

“Thank you. I’ll do just that,” Derek said.

Sean motioned to Stephan as he turned away. “Good. Deal with this. Luca is crying over not having the tech he’s been bitching about for weeks now, so I have to go deal with him. I swear, if we got screwed after spending all that money, I’m tearing someone’s throat out.”

Derek watched the Alpha stomp off before turning slowly to Stephan and Richard. “Not to be rude, but is he…always like that?”

Stephan chuckled, the sound deep and gravely. “Not that bad, but he’s got a good reason. You ready?”

He wasn’t, but he couldn’t say that, so he nodded. “After you.”