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[Scott's Pov]
I dropped my bike with a heavy thud, letting my helmet and bag fall to the ground beside it.
"Derek!" I called out, scanning the decrepit house.
"Derek!" I shouted again, but there was no response.
My gaze wandered around the house, taking in the old door, the broken windows, and finally settling on a freshly dug sand pit nearby. A sickly smell of blood wafted from the pit, making my stomach churn.
I turned back to the house, only to be startled by Derek's sudden appearance in the doorway.
"Stay away from her!" I yelled, my anger boiling inside me. "She doesn't know anything!"
"Oh yeah?" Derek retorted dryly as he approached me. "What if she does?"
"You think your buddy Stiles can just Google werewolves and have all the answers?" Derek mocked.
"You don't get it, Scott. I'm looking out for you, from a lot of things." He continued, coming closer. "Think about what could happen. You're out in the field, the aggression takes over, and you shift in front of everyone."
I remained silent, knowing deep down that he had a point. It was a terrifying possibility.
Derek picked up my lacrosse stick and held it in front of my face.
"Your mom, all your friends, and when they see you…" His nails extended into claws. "Everything falls apart."
With a swift motion, he tore open the netting of the stick, shocking me.
He threw the stick up in the air and just as I caught it, in the blink of an eye, he disappeared into thin air.
"Fuck!"
—---
I slammed on the brakes as my Jeep screeched to a halt at the curb. I bolted out of the vehicle and stormed into Scott's house.
I know Scott has a knack for making boneheaded decisions, not that I'm any different, but at least my harebrained schemes usually end up being a wild ride, except for the last time - yeah, that was a disaster.
Out of all the idiotic stunts Scott has pulled, attempting to confront Derek solo, takes the cake. But hey, if it's any consolation, he claims he found something about the body.
And that's precisely why I'm bursting into his room like a lunatic.
My eyes locked onto Scott as I barged in, catching him off guard as he dropped the Lacrosse net he was holding.
"What did you find?! How did you find it?! Where did you find it?!" I fired off questions without giving him a chance to respond before taking a deep breath and calming down.
"I found something of Derek Hale's." He replied, nonchalantly picking up the racket and starting to mend the net.
"Are you kidding? What?"
"There is something buried there. I could smell blood." Scott confirmed.
"That's awesome!" I blurted out before realizing. "I mean, that's terrible, but still."
"Whose blood?"
"I have no clue." Scott shrugged as he stood up. "But once we find out, your dad can pin Derek for the murder, and then you help me figure out how to play Lacrosse without transforming."
"You sure?" I raised an eyebrow skeptical about the last part.
"Absolutely. There's no way I'm missing that game." Scott asserted.
I sighed as we left the room.
Well, it's not like I haven't combed through every werewolf training manual out there. And if those methods fail, there's always the trusty old dog whistle and a bag of treats.
"So, where do we start?" Scott inquired as we hopped into my Jeep.
"Alright, the first half of the body is with the sheriff's department, stored in Central Hospital for autopsy." I explained, laying out the plan. "We need to confirm if the blood you smelled matches with the other half."
"And how do we do that?" Scott asked, with a hint of skepticism.
"We break into the morgue." I grinned. "And I know just the person for the job."
"Ah, another night of breaking the law." Scott muttered, while I dialed the aforementioned person.
"Yep." I nodded confidently as the other person answered.
"Hello?"
"Are you in or not?" I asked bluntly.
"You haven't even told him what we're doing." Scott chimed in from the side.
"Her." I corrected him. "And nah, she probably won't even bat an eye and just jump into the caravan of crime."
"What's the plan this time? Grave robbing?" Tara questioned.
"Grave robbing? No, more like Morgue raiding."
"Fine, sounds like a better way to spend a Friday night."
"Great." I shrugged with a grin. "I'll pick you up in five."
"Sure." She hung up, and I revved up my Jeep.
The sooner we lock Derek up in his little canine quarters, the better.
—----
After a brief drive, we hopped out of the Jeep and found ourselves outside Central Hospital.
"Well, let's see how smoothly this goes." I muttered under my breath.
We strolled into the hospital like we owned the place, and surprisingly, nobody even batted an eye at three teenagers wandering into the staff-only area. Guess we're stealthier than we thought.
We navigated through the hospital without any hassle, everyone too wrapped up in their own business to notice us sneaking around.
"Huh, that was disappointingly easy." I remarked as we closed the door to the morgue.
"You say." Tara muttered in agreement.
"Guys." Scott called out, pointing at a corpse case.
'Jane Doe - Partial. Police evidence. Do not tamper.'
"Yep, that's the one." I confirmed, joining them at the case.
As we approached the examination table, I couldn't help but notice the array of knives and razors laid out on it. A flash of some gruesome scene flickered through my mind, blood and screams filling the air.
"Stiles!" Tara's voice snapped me out of it.
I shook my head, trying to clear the disturbing image, and joined them at the table.
"You okay?" Tara asked, concern evident in her voice.
"Yeah." I forced a smile, shaking off the unsettling feeling. "I'm fine."
As Scott and Tara prepared to examine the body, I hung back, feeling oddly detached from the gruesome sight.
"Woah! What are those?!" Scott remarked, eyeing Tara's kit with disbelief as she laid them out over the corpse.
"It's my autopsy kit." Tara replied casually, getting to work.
While Scott winced at the sight of the open stitches, I found myself oddly unfazed. Maybe I've watched too many crime shows and actually builded a resistance against gore.
I shot Scott a questioning look, and he nodded, confirming that the scent matched what he smelled before.
"How do you even know all this stuff?" Scott asked, impressed by Tara's skill.
"My dad taught me when I was five." Tara replied sharply, irritated by the interruption.
"Sounds like a fun bonding experience." I muttered sarcastically. Tara smirked briefly before her usual stoic expression returned.
Wait, did 'Tara Wednesday Carpenter' just smile? Must be a rare occurrence.
"These are bite marks." Tara began, pointing at the wounds, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"Yeah, we can see that." Scott commented sarcastically.
Tara shot him a glare and held up a tool threateningly.
"You interrupt me one more time." She warned. "I would make your chin straight in the most painful way, so I could break it again."
A tense silence filled the room as Scott nodded nervously. Guess even a werewolf has to bow down to Tara's authority.
"What about the bite marks?" I interjected, eager to steer the conversation back on track.
"These are definitely from a canine." Tara stated matter-of-factly. "But they're not your average dog bites. These marks suggest a beast about twelve feet tall, with a bite force strong enough to tear the victim's torso apart."
Scott and I exchanged knowing looks. It all pointed to Derek. Every profile fit him perfectly.
"Stiles." Tara called, her gaze piercing into mine.
"What's really going on with you?" She questioned, cutting through the tension in the room.