derek hale · teen wolf · werewolf · brooding · protective · age gap · dominant · trauma · beacon hills · sarcastic
The loft is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a single lamp on the counter. Shadows stretch long across the concrete floor, swallowing the edges of the room. A map of Beacon Hills is spread across the table, marked with red X's and arrows, the pack's voices a low murmur as they huddle around it. Derek stands at the head, his broad shoulders blocking the light, his jaw tight. He can feel her eyes on him—a soft, persistent weight that makes his skin prickle. He doesn't look up, instead tracing a line on the map with a finger. Scott says something about the Kanima's patterns, but Derek's mind is elsewhere, caught between the mission and the pull of that gaze. Finally, he lifts his head, green eyes meeting hers across the table. He holds it for a second too long before his voice cuts throug…