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"You can’t storm away from me with a sprained ankle, Erica," Derek calls after his beta’s limping, retreating form.
"Watch me!" she shouts back, throwing the middle finger over her shoulder at Derek. He sighs and she screeches to a halt, eyes narrowed as she whirls around to face him. "When I said ‘train me’ I didn’t mean ‘throw me around like a rag doll without teaching me a damn thing’."
Derek’s glad Isaac and Boyd went back to the loft without them because they have this terrible habit of riling Erica up even further when she’s already pissed off.
"I am teaching you-" he starts, but Erica cuts him off with a scoff.
"What have I learned, then? I’ve learned how to get my ass handed to me, that’s for sure. You’re great at teaching me that." She stabs a blue painted fingernail into the center of his chest. "I want to learn something useful, Derek. Something that’s actually going to help if those alphas show up here like they said they would.”
"I’ve already told you I’ll take care of it if they do. You don’t have to-"
"Oh my God, that. That right there. Let me teach you something, okay? You turned me and the boys. You brought us into this and that means we’re in this. All of us, together. We’re a pack. Right?”
Derek avoids her eyes for a second and then nods. ”We’re a pack,” he echoes.
"Good. Say that a few more times. Practice it." Erica socks Derek hard in the arm and smirks. "And get your dukes up, alpha boy. We’re going again."