Syrus Hallow was a small man who had spent much of his time as Alpha trying to ensure that the other Alphas noticed him.

He was cursed with a long thin nose that twitched when he talked and thin, colourless lips. His teeth were yellowing, his hair greying and his skin was dry and paper thin.

He had already been Alpha for nearly a decade by the time Blake took his father's place in Blackridge, and Blake had never personally met the previous Alpha of Elmwood. But he remembered Reuban Hallow as a cruel and callous man that his father had loathed to deal with.

The son - though quick to put an end to some of the more brutal practices of his father's reign - had inherited his calculating, greedy demeanour. None of the servile and simpering smiles he offered Blake ever reached his eyes, and his hands constantly twisted the Alpha ring on his finger, drawing attention to his status whenever possible.

Despite his obvious desire to garner an alliance with the more powerful Alpha, it clearly rankled that Blake could look down on him, even though they were technically of equal rank.

Most months went by with at least one email from the Elmwood pack. Trivial snippets of half-useful information delivered in such a way as to encourage a reply from the Alpha that received it. He had perfected the art of trading information for the things he wanted; usually recognition, authority and an advantage over the other pack leaders.

Syrus had chosen to meet Blake's delegation in his study, an opulent and luxurious room - a far cry from the rest of the pack house's condition. No expense had been spared on the furnishings and home comforts and it was obviously well maintained and cared for.

This was where Syrus held court in his pack. His real seat of power.

Fortunately Blake had prepared well for this meeting.

"Keep quiet and let me do all the talking," Blake had instructed his companions earlier that morning. "Syrus is a proud man - he expects to speak to the Alpha, not his subordinates."

Traditionally, Alphas brought delegations of three or four suitable wolves with them when they travelled to foreign packs. It ensured that balanced discussions, debates and negotiations could take place between the pack leaders without the Alpha's having to shoulder all the little details.

However, after a little digging, Blake discovered that Syrus preferred to handle all the little details himself. The game is what he thrived on, and it often resulted in their pack getting the best end of any deals on the table. Luckily for Blake, negotiation was his gift as well, and he knew Syrus wouldn't be able to resist playing him at his own game.

"Foolishness," muttered Simon when he'd been told to mind his manners.

"Yes, it is," Blake had agreed. "But that's how it has to be."

Pushing Syrus to where he wanted him wasn't going to be easy... making Syrus believe he'd walked out on top? Even less so. "Oh! And absolutely no communicating through the pack-link from this point on," he warned them.

He didn't trust that Syrus might have learnt the same tricks he had, especially as he'd heard nothing from the wily Alpha or his Beta the previous night, despite keeping his ears tuned to the other pack's link.

After careful consideration Blake had chosen the two, more experienced members of his party to accompany him into the negotiations. Charlie was quite content to stay behind, especially as his wolf had not reacted well to the events of the previous night.

"Honestly, Alpha, I'd be more of a hindrance to you anyway," he confessed. "I'm not sure I could control Abel if the Bastard turned up." Charlie's natural charm and easy-going nature had allowed him to eke out a surprising amount of information about the Alpha's current heir. It appeared the depth of dislike for the future Alpha was not limited to Riker and his warriors.

No one seemed to know who Meagan's mother was nor even which pack he'd been born to - only that Syrus had turned up with him one day after a short trip beyond the borders and announced him as the new heir.

It didn't help that the Alpha's eldest son, Kaden, had been almost universally well-liked and respected amongst the highest-ranking pack members. Nor that Meagan had quickly shown signs of being less than stable.

"And that's the part that confuses me the most," Samuel had noted, rubbing the side of his nose with a thoughtful finger. "I can't find one witness or reliable source that can tell me what happened to his eldest son... and believe me, I asked around. Syrus might not like it, but wolves gossip when they're deep in their cups and this lot were sozzled!"

"What did you find out?" Blake asked curiously.

"Only that the official story has more holes in it than a sieve," the old wolf snorted, shaking his head. "All anyone seems to know is that Kaden and a group of the pack's warriors crossed over the border for a routine patrol - no one seems to know where they were headed or the route they took - and only one made it back, babbling about a rogue ambush. As far as I can tell, no bodies were ever recovered and no proper funeral was ever held, just a memorial service. Less than six months later Syrus turns up with his new heir."

"I heard similar stories," Charlie agreed. "One old wolf in particular was keen to wax lyrical about the old heir. Apparently Kaden had a lot of plans for this pack - changes most of the wolves were happy to see coming. In fact, they were expecting an announcement that Syrus was stepping down this year - then he was gone. No one seems to know any details, it's like he just... disappeared."

"I'm starting to wonder whether he did," Blake muttered, grimly. "We can use this information though. I'm going to need the two of you to do something for me..."

As the three of them continued to carefully plot their way through the meeting to come, Blake had also had a brief, but extremely necessary conversation in his head as well:

I need you to remain calm in there this morning. We can't let Syrus sense our emotions.

I'm always calm, Rothan sniffed.

You might not like some of the things we discuss...

Like what? His wolf's voice turned suspicious.

We may have to agree to some unsavoury things to get the information we need. Just... remain calm, and for Goddess sake, trust me.

He hoped fervently Rothan would heed his words. It had taken Blake a while to see it.

But, every step Syrus had taken since the moment they'd arrived at the border had been carefully designed for one reason and one reason alone - to bring Blake down to his level for the negotiations.

From failing to turn up to the welcoming party and sending a disgraced wolf in his place. To being unavailable for an entire day, attempting to omit the pack seal from the gifts and their ever present guard. But it was the welcoming feast, with its abundance of un-mated females that had opened his eyes to just how much he was being manipulated.

The Elmwood pack was notoriously possessive over its females, to point of refusing entry to outsiders seeking their true-mates. To openly allow them to throw themselves over a visitor - even one of such status as Blake, was unheard of.

Yet, Syrus had let it be.

The only possible explanation was leverage. To position his daughter as the perfect choice of mate. Ironically, it was exactly that leverage that was going to give Blake the opening he needed. He just hoped Rothan would let him.

The two men sat facing each other in luxurious black leather armchairs, a small table of fresh fruits and cheese laid out in front of them. Exactly as expected, the layout made it clear who was in charge of these negotiations.

Simon, dressed in a professional business suit and looking every inch a high ranking ambassador, sat on a large leather sofa. Directly opposite, Syrus's Beta, Gareth glared back at him; his huge bulk spread out on a second sofa - both positioned behind the two armchairs in the centre of the room.

The two men eyed each other with immediate dislike.

Samuel perched on the opposite side of the sofa to Simon, still wearing the same formal wear he'd been shoved into last night and looking none too happy about it. Unlike the other two wolves in his party, Samuel had a greater understanding of the dynamics of the Elmwood pack and its traditions. He'd lived amongst them, learned their ways and devoted his life to a woman who was born and raised here.

"Don't eat the food on the table," He'd advised Blake earlier that morning. "There will be an abundance of it, fresh fruit, cheese... all the good stuff. At some point, they'll offer you something. Don't accept."

"Wouldn't that be considered rude?" Blake asked with a frown.

"Find a way to be polite about it," Samuel said bluntly. "Same goes with drinks. Anything you consume during the meeting will put you at a disadvantage. Accept something of theirs and they'll expect you to give something freely in return. Besides," he added darkly. "Alpha Reuban had a habit of lacing some of the food with certain herbs and spices designed to make the consumer much more malleable..."

Right. Got it. Blake noted. Don't eat the food.

He was mildly surprised not to see the Gamma present at the meeting, or even Meagan himself... but, considering last nights debacle, it was probably for the best.

Syrus saw him glance at the empty space on the sofa and followed his train of thought.

"Let me apologise for my son's behaviour last night," he offered servilely, before Blake could open his mouth to comment. "He was a little... worse for wear."

Yes, he was, Rothan sniffed.

"He's a highly strung boy at the best of times," his father excused him. "But these were exceptional circumstances." He shrugged. "The indiscretions of youth."

Blake raised an unconvinced eyebrow.

"He isn't used to alcohol," Gareth spoke up brusquely. "A bad batch and a low tolerance. Shocking, I know, but he's learnt his lesson." The Beta chuckled unconvincingly, his eyes as hard as agates.

Sure. The alcohol. Let's blame that.

Blake felt his hackles rising at the implication that Meagan wasn't the only one needing to learn a lesson, but he swallowed his ire and observed Syrus carefully.

The old Alpha was obviously desperate to find a way of using Blake's spontaneous interference against him. It was the one situation he was sure Syrus hadn't manipulated the previous day, and it threatened all his plans. But, if alcohol could be used to dismiss one indiscretion...

"There's no need to apologise," Blake offered. "What's done is done. We all drank too much last night. I'm sure you'll deal with it appropriately. It is, after all, your pack," he acknowledged with a shrug, dismissing the incident entirely - including his own role in it.

Syrus's eyes narrowed.

Was it wise to remind him that we rubbed his face in it last night? Rothan asked in disapproval.

He never forgot. Besides, his attitude's getting on my nerves.

It's your funeral, Rothan shrugged.

No. If this goes wrong, it's our funeral, Blake reminded him. So pay attention.

"Of course," Syrus sneered in response, his thin lips drawn into a half-smile. "It is my pack."

They glared at each other for a few minutes, testing the waters - each feeling the Alpha power radiating off of the other. Blake's, naturally, was much stronger but he deliberately dialled it down a notch to place them on a more even footing. It was a subtle but calculated communication to the other Alpha that he wished to discuss things as equals, and he knew it would appeal to the old wolf's ego.

As expected of course, Rothan wasn't nearly as happy with the implied submission and he kept up a continuously low grumble of discontent in the back of Blake's head.

Syrus relaxed and folded into the comforts of his chair with a smug smile. Finally, he was on an equal footing to the great Alpha Blake.

"I came here to talk to you about some information I received recently," Blake began, watching Syrus carefully. He knew Syrus had other things to get off his mind before they jumped into the serious discussions.

"Have you given any thought to your sister's mating yet?" Syrus interrupted him selecting an orange from the table.

Well, that didn't take long.

"My sister is not yet sixteen," Blake said stiffly. "She's a little young for mating."

"Pah!" Syrus disagreed. "Eighteen is just the age they can find their 'true' mates - an unlikely scenario nowadays." His long, bony fingers picked at the skin of the orange peeling it off in strips as he talked. "Would you care for some fruit?" he asked, gesturing to the laden table.

"No, thank you," Blake declined carefully. "I'm afraid my stomach is a little delicate this morning, too much rich food last night."

Syrus shrugged; a flash of disappointment hidden behind his sly smile. "I don't believe in holding out for fairy tales," he declared, his sharp nails digging into the soft flesh of the fruit. "Just like you, I hear. Sixteen is a ripe age to find a mate." The peel fell at his feet one strip at a time, scattering as it hit the floor as though eager to escape the Alpha's presence as quickly as possible. "You yourself must admit that."

"I'm twenty six, Syrus!" Blake protested, disturbed that other Alphas thought he would cast aside his true mate so easily. Still, he considered his next words carefully. "The time for true mates has past for me, my pack needs completing."

"Yes! Yes, you see!" Syrus crowed happily. "You could have been mated, with several pups by now if you'd realised the truth sooner... no. It's better this way...you know. You've been through it." He bit into a segment of the orange, the juice dribbling down his chin. "I have a son, soon to be an Alpha," he suggested slyly, "You have a sister. We could join our packs in a powerful alliance!"

Sweet, innocent Sky mated to that monster? Even though he'd known it was coming, his mind reeled from the thought.

Not in this lifetime, snarled his wolf in agreement.

"My sister is officially a member of my father's pack," he said, keeping his face carefully bland. "I cannot speak on his behalf... But, I'll pass the suggestion on to him. I'm sure he'll give it careful consideration." - with heavy influence from Blake, of course. "He also believes true mates are fairy tales," he added sadly.

"Excellent, excellent," Syrus said, chewing on the orange pulp. He smiled cordially but his cold, calculating eyes told Blake clearly that he knew his proposal had been summarily rejected. He was quicker than first thought.

Blake recalculated and adjusted his plan. "You had some recent visitors to your pack, Syrus?" Blake tried again, steering the conversation in a new direction. "Redheads, like the girl we have staying with us?"

"Ah yes! Your little amnesiac," Syrus said, his cold eyes shining brightly with sudden interest. He leaned forward. "How's she doing? Retrieved any of her memories yet?"

Blake paused before replying.

Something about the old Alpha's eager manner disturbed Blake immensely. It wasn't just the idea of the old wolf showing an interest in Hannah - though it made Rothan growl possessively - but something about the way he casually asked about her memories put him on edge.

It didn't help that Gareth had stiffened behind Syrus, every muscle in his body tensed like stone - quite an achievement for such a portly man - and his left cheek twitched nervously as he waited for an answer.

Blake kept his eyes firmly fixed upon the Alpha in front of him, pretending not to notice. "No, sadly," he said regretfully. "Not even one. Our doctor believes she may never retrieve them. For now, she remains under my care. We had hoped you may know more about who she really is?"

Over on the leather sofa the Beta relaxed slightly. Most wouldn't have noticed the subtle loss of tension anymore than they'd have picked up on his agitation in the first place, but Blake's Alpha senses could pick up far more than the average wolf.

They know something, his wolf warned, his voice agitated and on edge.

I'm on it, Blake reassured him. Stay. Calm.

Why did you tell them she hadn't remembered anything? his wolf asked curiously.

Because she's safer that way, he replied cryptically.

Syrus was assessing his guest with a calculated look in his eye. Blake seemed to have pleased him in some way and he relaxed even further into his chair with a sly smile on his face. "Not that I recall, right now," Syrus said eventually. "We have so few visitors nowadays and my memory is not what it once was... Like I told your Beta, I didn't recognise the picture he sent me."

It wasn't a lie exactly, but Blake sensed it was a heavily edited version of the truth as well. Syrus was playing with him. But this was a game Blake excelled at and he wasn't easily put off.

"Redheads are unusual around here, aren't they?" Blake said lightly, testing the waters. "Which is why we wondered about your recent visitors. Word is, they were red heads."

Syrus's eyes darkened for a brief moment then returned to their sharp, calculating gaze. He smiled again. "My, my, wolves do gossip don't they?" he observed. "I think you must be referring to my new son-in-law... their visit would fit the timeline, wouldn't it, Gareth?" he asked his Beta, who pretended to think about it.

"It would, it would," Gareth conceded, unconvincingly.

"My eldest daughter," Syrus explained. "Mated only a year and already blessed with pups. Her mate is a redhead. They visited for a couple of nights to share the good news - had quite the run in with some rogues on the way down here too... such a bad time to be travelling," he tutted.

He's lying. Rothan snarled.

I know, Blake soothed him. Her mate has grey hair, remember?

Confront him!

And put Sasha in danger? No. This isn't how the game is played...

You sound like Ash, Rothan sniffed.

No, Blake chuckled internally. When it comes to this game... he sounds like me.