Everything was happening all at once, and had been for nearly two days now. Too many scents, too different, neither human nor lycan, alien yet so familiar, dangerous. It set Mehmet on edge, teetering in the wind, prepared to strike with everything he had at the first sign of danger. And he did, upon facing the coven leader woman and sensing in his bones her cunning, her years of experience likely murdering his kinsmen. The scent threw him off, a vampire standing so close to a werewolf, so close to his pack, that can anyone really blame him that he would strike out in instinctive defense? Her little pet, that Nathaniel man, had taken the brunt of his strikes, and given him a few of his own. Right away Mehmet had stopped, snarling regardless, muscles stinging where Nathaniel had struck. A formidable underling, a man he should not come to blows with lightly. But also a man he will destroy if they should ever fight again.

 The situation had been smoothened over, at least, with a few words, barks, and flurry of scents, though a marked segregation of the vampires and werewolves sprung up, physically and socially. He ignored it. That was safer, for the moment. He climbed the steps to wherever Riley lurked, pressing past vampires whom begrudgingly pushed their backs against the wall to get out of his way. Filling out the doorway, he stared at Riley on her bed, and in a low, moderate accent said, "The Cacciatori are the real threat. If we are to work together, we must not fight amongst each other. I apologize for not following our oath of alliance." He bowed his head once, even if her response was unyielding. He understood her indignance, and found a startling amount of himself in it. Of course she would be furious. He left after a few more words, now understanding the flow of things, of authority. He would not be under this woman.

He found the stairs and entered the room in which both groups were congregated, muttering and growling, whispers that hissed gratingly in his ears. Riley arrived, spoke, and he did his best to quietly urge his pack into listening. Many eyes turned to him when she was finished, and above their heads he called out, "Listen to your betters, pups! We are still a pack. I do not expect you to treat these vampires as our own, but keep watch over them and they shall keep watch over us." His eyes shone through the dimness, a sea of mahogany set under thick brows, wide nose flaring with the amalgam of scents. His words dripped with immense inflexibility, a command. "Stay away from the humans. They are weak, but cry out like rabbits when struck, to call out the lions. If any of you are gone for longer than a day without prompting, coven or pack, [I]I will search for you.[/I] Trust your senses, and trust no human." His mind swam with worry at the idea of any more of his pack being lost. A hole remained in his heart for the ones he failed to protect. Losing his pack would kill him, undoubtedly, kill his soul, his resolve, his will. That cannot happen.

A scent outside. His head darted towards its source, breathing in sharply, eyes locking on Riley. Before he could say anything, a scout had come back, sharing no news, yet that lack of information piqued his worry even more harshly. Rumors ran wild, and the noise was deafening to him. He lifted his head and barked, veins popping in his neck as he did so, louder than anything else in the room, echoing into the newfound silence. It jarred the vampires and quieted the werewolves, enough to make them both shut up. His beta, Keller, turned to him from where she was at his side. "Who was expecting them?"

He sighed and waved his hand. "I am sorry, Keller. You will know soon, I promise." By now things were quieting down and Riley went upstairs. He watched Keller and Rylan converge to discuss something, turned to follow Riley upstairs, and found her already gone, the scent trail followed by Nathaniel's. He growled quietly and returned to his pack, given up on speaking with the coven leader just yet. It seemed 'soon' was coming sooner than he'd liked. "I am loathe to interrupt you, Rylan, but I must." He shifted irritably, old scars coming to the surface and sending pinpricks along his back. "The Cacciatori are waiting for us. They are the humans I speak of when I tell you of my capture." His tone was filled with held-back fury, wanting nothing more than to howl and speed all the way over to wherever the Cacciatori were hiding and tear them apart. He skimmed over what Rylan had written and sighed. "I will lead a hunt later, but we have more pressing matters than your stomach." His words were stern, scolding. He gave them a softer edge, however, just a little forgiving. He didn't expect his pack to know exactly what was happening. Many of them had only heard of the Cacciatori in legends, or as some far-off monster from his sickening tales best forgotten.