BRAEDEN'S POV
The air was thick with tension as Braeden crouched low, whispering to Isaac, her voice barely audible over the sound of their rapid footsteps.
"Quiet," she urged, her tone edged with urgency. "Stay with me. We're almost there."
Isaac groaned, his hand clutching his neck. "My neck..." His voice was weak, strained.
Braeden spared him a quick glance, eyes flickering with concern. "From their claws," she explained. "It's how they share memories."
Isaac's face contorted in confusion. "But I don't remember anything..."
A shadow passed over Braeden's expression. "It's also how they steal them," she added grimly, gripping Isaac's arm tighter. "Listen to me—no matter what happens, you hold on, okay? You hold on tight!"
Isaac winced, the pain from his wounds evident in his staggered movements. His head whipped around, eyes wide in panic. "I hear something... someone's coming." His breath quickened. "Faster! Two of them!"
"No!" His voice cracked, fear rising like a tidal wave.
Braeden stopped, locking eyes with him. "Remember what I said before?"
Isaac blinked, dazed. "Hold on?"
"Hold on!" she snapped.
Suddenly, Isaac stumbled, his legs giving way. "Whoa!"
"Isaac...? Stay with me! Isaac!" Braeden's voice was frantic now as Isaac's body slumped against her. "Isaac! Get down!" she ordered, her voice filled with frustration. She shot him a sharp look. "I thought I told you to hold on!"
BLAKE'S POV
Across town, far removed from the chaos Braeden and Isaac were enduring, Blake Grey was busy unloading the last few boxes from his mom's SUV. The overcast sky above Beacon Hills mirrored the bittersweet feeling settling in his chest as he helped his mom move into their new house.
Blake's tall frame towered over the boxes, his muscular arms flexing slightly as he hefted one onto his shoulder. Standing at 6'5", with short blonde hair that caught the fading daylight, and sharp blue eyes that carried both intensity and thoughtfulness, Blake looked every bit like someone who commanded attention without asking for it. His defined jawline and rugged handsomeness made him stand out—arguably the most striking figure in the town he was about to call home.
"Last one," Blake called to his mom, Karen, who was adjusting something on the porch.
She looked up, her face breaking into a smile. "I think we're almost done. Just a few more things to unpack inside." She paused, her smile softening. "I appreciate the help, Blake."
He smirked lightly, shifting the box in his arms. "It's my stuff too, you know."
Karen laughed. "True. I guess I just didn't expect it to feel so... final."
Blake's smirk faded slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. "It's a new start," he said, more to himself than to her. "Maybe this is what we need."
SCOTT'S POV
The tattoo artist glanced up from his work, sarcasm dripping from his tone. "Boy, it's a good thing you drew me a picture."
Stiles hovered nearby, trying to lighten the mood. "Hey, Scott! You sure you don't want something like this?" He waved a crude drawing in front of Scott, his attempt at seriousness failing miserably.
Scott shot him a flat look.
"Too soon?" Stiles asked, sheepishly.
"Yeah," Scott muttered, turning his attention back to the tattoo artist, his nerves slowly settling.
Stiles shifted on his feet. "I don't know, man. Are you sure about this? I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?"
Scott didn't hesitate. "I'm not changing my mind."
Stiles sighed. "Okay, but why two bands?"
Scott shrugged. "I just like it."
"But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning? You know, something important?"
Scott smirked. "Getting a tattoo means something."
Stiles shot him a skeptical look. "I don't think that's—"
The tattoo artist chimed in. "He's right. Tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word tatua means 'to leave a mark,' like a rite of passage."
Scott's smirk widened. "Yeah, see? He gets it."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "He's covered in tattoos, Scott—literally."
The tattoo artist chuckled, prepping the needle. "Okay, you ready?"
Scott nodded, bracing himself. "Yup."
"You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?"
Scott shook his head confidently. "Nope."
Stiles mumbled nervously, "I tend to get a little squeamish, though, so..."
BLAKE'S POV
The door chimed as Blake Grey walked into the tattoo shop, his calm confidence making an immediate impression. Tattoos wrapped around his muscular arms in intricate designs, each one seeming to tell a story. He approached the counter, his expression neutral, yet focused.
The tattoo artist glanced up briefly from his work. "Need something new?"
Blake nodded. "Yeah, thinking about adding to the collection."
Stiles, ever the commentator, noticed Blake's extensive ink and couldn't resist muttering to Scott, "This guy's got more tattoos than the artist."
Blake caught the comment but didn't react, offering only a faint smile. Scott looked up from his seat, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "You new around here?"
Blake nodded. "Yeah, just moved to town."
Stiles, intrigued, jumped into the conversation. "So, what are you getting?"
Blake glanced down at his arm. "Just something small. Most of the major stuff's already done."
Scott grinned, the tension in the room easing slightly. "First one for me."
Blake raised an eyebrow as he looked at Scott's arm. "First tattoo's always important. You'll remember it."
Scott seemed to relax even more. "Yeah, that's the idea."
Blake nodded, his tone calm and encouraging. "Good luck with it."
SCOTT'S POV
Scott shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, wincing as the burning sensation from his fresh tattoo intensified. Stiles, focused on the road, shot him a sideways glance.
"So, Blake," Stiles began, casually probing. "You think he's cool? I mean, the guy's covered in ink, barely says anything, and just strolls in like he owns the place."
Scott leaned back, staring out the window. "I don't think he's a threat. He didn't seem aggressive or anything."
Stiles tapped his fingers on the wheel. "Right. But maybe we should keep an eye on him. You know, just in case."
Before Scott could respond, the burning sensation on his arm spiked sharply.
"Oh, man..." he muttered, rubbing his arm.
Stiles glanced over again. "You okay?"
"Kinda burns..." Scott replied through gritted teeth.
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yes, because you just had your skin stabbed about a hundred thousand times with a needle."
"Yeah, but I don't think it's supposed to feel like this," Scott groaned, his discomfort deepening.
Stiles' face paled slightly. "Oh, God..."
Scott winced harder, his voice strained. "No, it's definitely not supposed to feel like this!"
Suddenly, Scott started to peel off the bandage covering his tattoo.
"I gotta take this thing off!" Scott said, panicked.
Stiles reached out in a hurry. "No, no, no, no, Scott! Don't!"
Ignoring him, Scott ripped the bandage off, staring in disbelief as the two black bands on his arm shimmered and healed instantly, leaving no trace of the tattoo.
"Oh, no!" Scott groaned. "What? No, no, come on!" He sighed heavily, glaring at his now unmarked skin. "It healed."
Stiles exhaled in relief, slumping in his seat. "Thank God. I hated it."
Scott shot him a look. "Really?"
Stiles shrugged. "Sorry, but yeah."
ALLISON'S POV
Walking beside Lydia, Allison's heart pounded in her chest.
"I'm not ready to get back out there, Lydia," she admitted.
Lydia waved a dismissive hand. "It's not a double date! It's a group thing."
Allison raised an eyebrow. "Do they know it's a group thing? Because it sounds like a double date to me."
Lydia rolled her eyes dramatically. "You were in France for four months and didn't date? Seriously?"
Allison bit her lip. "Did you? After... well, everything?"
Lydia's expression hardened. "Do not say his name."
Allison glanced at her carefully. "Is he okay? Did everything work out?"
Lydia sighed. "The doctors looked like idiots when he turned up alive, but everyone got over it. And yes, Derek taught him Werewolf 101—'How Not to Randomly Kill People During a Full Moon.'"
Allison chuckled. "So, you've talked to him?"
"Not since he left for London."
"You mean since his dad moved him to London."
"Whatever. He left," Lydia snapped. "And seriously? An American Werewolf in London? That's not gonna be a disaster at all."
Allison gave her a sidelong glance. "So, you're totally over him?"
Lydia sighed, admitting, "Would I be going on a double date if I wasn't?"
After a pause, she groaned. "Okay, yes, it's a double date. But it's not an orgy! You'll live."
SCOTT'S POV
Scott sat in the passenger seat, trying to shake off the lingering unease about his tattoo healing.
"We agreed to give each other the summer—no texts, no calls," Scott said.
Stiles glanced over, intrigued. "So, how do you know she's not coming back to school?"
Scott hesitated. "After everything that happened, I'm not sure she's coming back at all."
Stiles grinned slyly. "Oh, she's coming back. Pretty sure. Like, one-hundred-percent sure."
Scott's eyes widened as he spotted Allison's car ahead.
"Oh, my God! Oh—"
ALLISON'S POV
Allison's breath caught in her throat as she saw Scott's car in the rearview mirror.
"Oh, my God, Lydia! I can't see him, not now!"
SCOTT'S POV
Scott turned to Stiles, his voice tight. "Can we just drive, please? Stiles?"
Stiles glanced at the traffic light ahead. "Scott, it's a red light!"
ALLISON'S POV
"Lydia, go! Just go!" Allison urged, her voice filled with panic.
"But the light—" Lydia began, glancing at the red light.
SCOTT'S POV
Scott rubbed his forehead as they sat at the intersection. "I don't want it to look like we're following them."
Stiles shot him an exasperated look. "Well, what do you want me to do?"
"I don't know—anything!" Scott replied, his voice growing more frustrated.
Suddenly, a loud crash erupted as something slammed into Lydia's car.
SCOTT'S POV
Scott and Stiles jumped out of their car and rushed toward Allison and Lydia.
"Are you okay?" Scott asked, his voice filled with concern.
Lydia, still in shock, looked at Scott wide-eyed. "It came out of nowhere!"
Stiles hurried to Lydia's side. "Are you hurt?"
Lydia shook her head, still trembling. "It ran right into us!"
Scott knelt next to Allison, his voice softer. "Are you okay?"
Allison nodded, though clearly shaken. "I'm okay."
Lydia, however, was frantic. "I am not okay! I am totally freaking out! How does something just run into us like that? I saw its eyes right before it hit us, and it looked... crazy."
Scott stood up, staring into the darkness. "No... it wasn't crazy."
His eyes narrowed as he focused. "It was scared."
He paused, his voice lowering.
"Actually... terrified."
MELISSA'S POV
Melissa sprinted toward the paramedics as they wheeled Isaac in on a stretcher, his face pale and bloodied.
"Hey, wait! Wait a minute! I know this one," Melissa called out, catching up to them. She knelt by Isaac, concern etched on her face. "What happened, Isaac?"
Isaac winced, his voice strained. "The girl... she's worse, okay?"
Melissa frowned, her worry deepening. "Are you not healing?"
"I will," Isaac muttered, pain evident in his voice. "Just... help her, please."
Melissa glanced over her shoulder, spotting Braeden being wheeled in next. "Okay, can you take him?" she asked the paramedics.
"We gotta move him, Melissa," one of them responded.
"All right, take him," she said, turning her attention to Braeden. The woman was barely conscious, mumbling incoherently.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey," Melissa urged, kneeling beside Braeden. "Stay with me."
Braeden's eyes fluttered, her voice weak. "Find him... I have to find him..."
"What are you saying?" Melissa asked, leaning in closer.
"I have to... tell him..." Braeden gasped, her breathing ragged.
"Who?" Melissa asked, her confusion growing.
"The Alpha..." Braeden struggled, her voice fading. "Find the Alpha..."
Melissa frowned. "What do you want with Derek Hale?"
Braeden's eyes flickered with the last bit of energy she had. "No... not Hale... McCall... Scott McCall..."
Melissa froze, her mind racing as Braeden was whisked away by the paramedics.
SCOTT'S POV
Scott sat at the kitchen table, a textbook open in front of him, but his mind was elsewhere. He absentmindedly read aloud, "Ephemeral. Lasting for a short time; transient; momentary..."
He frowned, his attention drifting. The word hung in the air, resonating with him in a way that didn't sit right. Ephemeral, he repeated silently, thinking about how quickly things had changed in his life. Nothing ever stayed the same for long.
Scott closed the book with a sigh and leaned back in his chair, his thoughts wandering to everything that had happened over the summer. The world felt different now, heavier, and he wasn't sure how to handle the weight of it all.
BLAKE'S POV
Across town, Blake wiped sweat from his brow as he helped his mom finish setting up her new café. Stacks of boxes were scattered around the room, the smell of fresh coffee beans mixing with the sunlight filtering through the large front windows. He placed another box on the counter, his muscles straining slightly from the day's work.
Karen, his mom, was busy organizing the shelves, glancing at him with a satisfied smile. "I think we're almost done," she said, her voice filled with contentment. "It's really coming together, don't you think?"
Blake nodded, taking in the cozy vibe the café was starting to take on. "Yeah, it's looking good."
Karen paused, watching her son for a moment before walking over to him. "I appreciate all your help with this, Blake. But remember, this year, I really need you to focus on school."
Blake leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "I know, Mom. I'll be fine."
Karen sighed softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I just don't want you to get too distracted. I know this move has been a lot for both of us, and I want this café to succeed... but I also need to know you're focusing on your future, too."
Blake offered her a small smile. "I get it. Don't worry, I'll focus on school." He paused, his voice softening as he glanced around the café. "And I want this place to succeed for you, too."
Karen's expression softened as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've always been so supportive. Just don't forget to take care of yourself, okay? This could be a fresh start for both of us."
Blake nodded, but his thoughts were distant, lingering on the weight of everything they'd left behind.
"Yeah... a fresh start."
ALLISON'S POV
Argent stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching his daughter gather her things. His protective instincts flared as he spoke, "You ready?"
Allison looked up, her expression determined. "Yeah."
Argent hesitated, knowing how difficult first days back could be, especially after everything that had happened. "You know, you could wait 'til tomorrow, if you want. I know the first day can be tough."
Allison smiled faintly, brushing off his concern. "I'm all right."
Argent studied her for a moment, still not convinced. "You sure?"
"Yeah."
He chuckled softly, trying to ease the moment. "Or, you could wait a week, if that would make things easier."
Allison sighed and glanced at him. "I promised Lydia that I would drive her since her car's wrecked. So... I should go."
Argent watched as she left, the door closing softly behind her. His smile faded, replaced by the lingering worry of a father who had seen too much.
STILES' POV
Stiles followed his dad around the kitchen, phone in hand, his mind buzzing with theories. "You know how many vehicle collisions last year involved deer? Two hundred and forty-seven thousand," he declared, his voice carrying an almost triumphant edge, as if the statistic held the key to unlocking a mystery.
Sheriff Stilinski groaned, rubbing his temples. "Oh, God, please go to school, Stiles."
"But that's crossing the road!" Stiles countered, undeterred. "The one last night came right down the middle."
Stilinski sighed, trying to ignore his son's persistent need to explain every odd occurrence. "I'm not gonna beg you."
Stiles grinned mischievously, leaning against the counter. "Good, I'm impervious to your influence anyway."
The sheriff raised an eyebrow, glancing over his shoulder. "Would you consider a bribe?"
Stiles feigned thoughtfulness, scratching his chin. "You couldn't meet my price."
Stilinski sighed, giving in. "Extortion?"
Stiles shrugged nonchalantly. "You got nothing on me."
Another deep sigh escaped the sheriff's lips as he realized this conversation was going nowhere. "Yeah..."
Stiles, still buzzing with energy, noticed his dad acting suspiciously. "Dad, what are you doing?" he asked, his tone shifting from playful to concerned.
His dad didn't respond, his movements deliberate and focused. Stiles' curiosity got the better of him. "Dad, what are you doing?"
Suddenly, Stilinski lunged at him, and Stiles let out a startled scream.
"AAAH!"
LYDIA'S POV
Lydia lay back on the bed, her mind already wandering away from the guy next to her. He was talking, but she barely listened.
"It looks good on you," he murmured, referring to the casual dress she was wearing.
Lydia simply hummed in response, disinterested.
"So... you think we could go on a real date sometime?" the guy asked, hopeful.
Lydia glanced at him, considering her options. "Hmm..."
He shifted closer, his tone dropping to something more suggestive. "Uh, can we have sex again?"
Lydia rolled her eyes, letting out a soft, dismissive sound. "Mmm..." she muttered, already losing interest in the conversation entirely.
STILES' POV
Stiles paced back and forth, his hands flailing in exaggerated frustration as Scott leaned against his locker.
"You wanna ask Derek for help? Why? Why?"
Scott kept his cool. "He's got the triskele tattooed on his back, Stiles. There has to be a way to do it without healing, right?"
Stiles threw his hands up. "Okay, yeah, but doesn't he have his hands full right now? You know, rogue Alphas, murder, mayhem?"
Scott was about to reply, but his attention drifted as a new face appeared in the hallway—Blake Grey. Blake moved with an easy confidence, his eyes scanning the school as if assessing his new surroundings. His calm, composed demeanor stood out among the high-energy chaos of the first day.
As Blake passed by, he gave Scott a small nod, which Scott returned. Stiles, however, narrowed his eyes, still skeptical. "That's Blake, right?"
Scott nodded. "Yeah. First day."
Stiles muttered under his breath, "Another guy with tattoos and mysterious vibes. Great."
Blake walked past, heading toward the administrative wing without saying a word. Scott watched him go before turning back to Stiles, sharing a knowing glance.
BLAKE'S POV
Blake walked into the administrative office, navigating the controlled chaos of paperwork and staff preparing for the school year. He had been sent here to pick up his class schedule, something his mom had insisted he do on his first day.
As he waited by the counter, the principal's voice carried through the office. "Look, these are the applications for the career adviser. I need them sorted."
Blake glanced toward the commotion, though he remained focused on the task at hand. The secretary handed him his schedule, and Blake gave her a polite nod.
The principal's voice boomed again, clearly irritated. "And whatever happened to the library while I was gone? I want it cleared up!"
Blake turned to leave, but as he stepped out into the hallway, he noticed Scott and Stiles sneaking around near the office. He didn't approach them but smirked slightly as he overheard Stiles muttering, "Go, go, go..." before they darted down the hall.
Blake continued on his way, heading toward his first class without a second glance.
LYDIA'S POV
Lydia leaned against her locker, scanning the crowd of students filing through the halls.
"Freshmen," she murmured with a smirk. "Tons and tons of fresh men..."
Allison raised an eyebrow, amused. "You mean fresh boys, Lydia. They're fourteen."
Lydia shrugged, her eyes still wandering over the faces in the hall. "Eh, some are more mature than others."
Allison chuckled. "You know, it's okay to be single. Focus on yourself for a little while. Work on becoming a better person."
Lydia turned to her with a knowing smile. "Allison, I love you. So if you need to do that thing where we talk about me but we're actually talking about you, it's totally fine."
Allison laughed, though Lydia's words hit closer to home than she'd admit.
"But I don't want a boyfriend," Lydia continued, her tone shifting back to playful. "I want a distraction."
Allison rolled her eyes. "Brothers?"
Lydia's attention shifted as she spotted Blake walking past them, heading toward his class. She tilted her head, intrigued.
"Or maybe someone new..."
Allison followed her gaze but didn't recognize the guy. "Who is that?"
Lydia shrugged, her eyes lingering on Blake as he disappeared down the hall. "No idea. But he's... hot."
Allison nudged her lightly. "Focus on yourself, remember?"
Lydia let out a laugh. "One step at a time."
MELISSA'S POV
Melissa stood in the hospital room, staring down at Isaac's injuries, which were healing far too quickly for anyone's comfort.
"Yeah... Yeah, that's healing. Visibly," she muttered, her nerves rising.
Isaac groaned. "They can't see this. Nobody can see this."
Melissa bit her lip, glancing around nervously. "All right, cover it up..."
She grabbed a nearby towel and draped it over his arm, but it was clear this wasn't going to help. "I don't think that's gonna matter—I mean, you're scheduled for surgery, Isaac. That's gonna be confusing for a lot of people."
Isaac winced, still trying to pull himself together. "Okay, can you do something?"
"Me?" Melissa looked at him incredulously. "I'm relatively new to all of this. Plus, there's a Sheriff's deputy stationed right outside the door."
Isaac's eyes widened with panic. "Have you tried calling Derek?"
Melissa sighed in frustration. "Like, five times."
She stared at Isaac for a moment, desperate for any other options. "Do you have any other emergency Werewolf contacts?"
Isaac took a deep breath, pain flickering across his face. "Yeah... Call Scott."
STILINSKI'S POV
Sheriff Stilinski rubbed his forehead, trying to keep his cool as he dealt with the hospital's administration. "Believe me, sir, I understand, but you have to understand me—"
He paused, noticing Melissa walking by. "Excuse me," he said to the administrator before jogging over.
"Hey! Hey, Melissa."
Melissa turned, offering a tired smile. "Hey."
Stilinski gave her a hopeful look. "C-can you help me out here?"
"Yeah, sure," Melissa replied, stepping closer.
Stilinski sighed in relief. "Since the amnesiac in 215 can't tell us anything, I need the girl with the modified military stun-gun in 216 to answer a few questions."
Melissa frowned. "That's unlikely. She's heavily sedated."
Stilinski groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Aw, great. Well, when she, uh... when she un-sedates, will you give me a call? She's got about ten grand worth of property damage to answer for, and I don't want her just walking out of here."
Melissa nodded. "Okay, I'll let you know."
BLAKE'S POV
Blake stood near the lockers, staring down at his class schedule, his brow furrowed in confusion. The layout of Beacon Hills High School didn't make much sense, and the constant rush of students only added to the disorientation. He flipped the schedule over, hoping to find some kind of map, but no luck.
Before he could figure out where to go next, a voice floated toward him from behind.
"Lost, handsome?"
Blake turned around to see a striking redhead, her eyes bright and her lips curved into a confident smirk. She seemed perfectly at ease, like someone who always knew exactly where they were—and what they wanted.
"I'm Lydia," she said, her voice casual yet carrying a hint of playful intrigue. "You must be new."
Blake nodded, glancing back down at his schedule. "Yeah, new and a bit lost."
Without hesitation, Lydia reached for his schedule, taking it from his hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Let me take a look." Her eyes flicked over it, quick and sharp. "You're not too far from where you need to be. Looks like you're headed to English first. I can show you the way."
Blake raised an eyebrow, appreciating her directness. "That'd be helpful."
As they started walking together, Lydia glanced up at him, her tone turning just a bit more flirtatious. "So, are you always this quiet, or just trying to figure out how things work around here?"
Blake smirked, his calm demeanor still intact. "Just figuring things out."
Lydia's gaze lingered on him as they walked, her eyes assessing in a way that felt deliberate. "Beacon Hills can be a little... unpredictable. But I'm sure you'll fit in just fine. And if you ever need help getting 'oriented'..." She let the implication hang in the air, her smile teasing.
Blake gave her a slight nod, playing along but not fully taking the bait. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."
Lydia's eyes sparkled as she slowed to a stop in front of the classroom door. "This is you. English first, right?"
Blake nodded. "Yeah, thanks."
Lydia leaned in just a little closer, her smile widening. "Anytime." She winked before turning on her heel and walking away, her confidence evident with every step.
Blake watched her go, shaking his head slightly, amused but staying composed. He looked at the classroom door, ready for whatever Beacon Hills had in store next.
BLAKE'S POV
Blake stepped into the English classroom, his tall frame immediately drawing attention. The teacher, Jennifer, paused mid-sentence as all eyes turned to him. For a brief moment, Blake took in the quiet stares from the students, but he remained calm, his expression neutral.
Jennifer smiled warmly. "You must be Blake Grey, the new student."
Blake gave a small nod. "Yeah, that's me."
Jennifer gestured toward the class. "Why don't you introduce yourself?"
Keeping it simple, Blake spoke confidently. "Blake Grey. Just moved here."
There was a murmur of interest around the room, but Blake wasn't fazed. Jennifer nodded approvingly. "Welcome, Blake. You can take that seat over there." She pointed to a spot near the middle of the room, next to Allison.
Blake made his way over and sat down, briefly meeting Allison's gaze. Her curiosity was evident as she watched him settle in.
ALLISON'S POV
Allison glanced at Blake as he sat down beside her. She couldn't help but notice the quiet confidence he carried, the way he seemed unbothered by the attention. She leaned slightly toward him, offering a friendly smile.
"Hey, I'm Allison," she whispered.
Blake turned to her, his blue eyes meeting hers. "Blake," he replied evenly.
"First day?" she asked softly.
"Yeah. Just trying to get my bearings," Blake said, his tone calm.
Allison smiled again, sensing his reserved nature but intrigued nonetheless. "If you need any help, let me know."
Blake gave her a small, appreciative nod. "Thanks. I might."
SCOTT'S POV
Scott rushed down the hallway, his heart racing as he realized he was already late for class. He pushed open the classroom door, breathless and slightly disheveled.
"Sorry!" Scott stammered, catching his breath. He quickly scanned the room, noticing Allison and Blake sitting together.
Jennifer raised an eyebrow but didn't seem too upset. "Mr. McCall, nice of you to join us." She gave him a pointed look before motioning to an empty seat.
Scott offered an awkward smile and hurried to his desk, clearly flustered.
JENNIFER'S POV
Jennifer cleared her throat and regained the class's attention. "Phones off, everyone. This is the last line from the first book we'll read this year." She read aloud from her book, her voice clear and deliberate.
"'The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds and the tranquil waterway, leading to the uttermost ends of the earth, flowed somber under an overcast sky, seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.'"
With a final glance around the room, Jennifer added, "And that will be the last text you receive in this class. Phones off, please."
Blake, Scott, and Allison all settled into their seats, preparing for the lesson ahead.
MELISSA'S POV
Melissa stood outside Isaac's hospital room, her phone pressed tightly to her ear as she muttered under her breath. "Oh, come on, Scott. Come on. Pick up..." Her voice was filled with urgency as she waited, pacing nervously in the hall. Scott wasn't answering, and time was running out.
ISAAC'S POV
Inside the room, Isaac's heart raced as he lay on the hospital bed. His head turned slightly when he heard the door creak open, revealing Kali's tall figure. Her sharp, confident movements sent a chill down his spine.
"Hello, Isaac," Kali greeted with a calm, almost playful tone, stepping into the room.
"Hi..." Isaac replied cautiously, his voice shaky. Something about her presence made him feel instantly uneasy.
Kali's dark eyes gleamed with amusement. "How we feeling?"
Isaac forced a smile. "Good! I mean, listen, I think I could probably just—"
Before he could finish his sentence, his attention snapped to a small vial and syringe in Kali's hand. His heart skipped a beat. "What is that?"
Kali's lips curved into a smile, her voice cool. "Just an anesthetic. We don't want you getting in the way again."
Isaac's muscles tensed as Kali moved closer, the syringe glinting in the light. His breath hitched.
Kali leaned in slightly, her voice taking on a menacing edge. "Count along with me, Isaac."
Isaac swallowed hard, his vision starting to blur. His body refused to move, the effects of the anesthetic already starting to take hold.
"One..." Kali began, her voice steady.
Isaac's eyelids fluttered as the world around him started to dim. His head felt heavy, his limbs weighed down.
"Two..." Kali continued, her tone as calm as ever, as if she had all the time in the world.
Isaac's mind raced, desperately trying to fight off the drug's effects, but it was no use. His consciousness was slipping.
"Three..." Kali's voice was the last thing he heard as his world faded into darkness.
SCOTT'S POV
Scott shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing Jennifer's eyes were on him. He could feel the weight of the room's attention, his heart pounding slightly faster than usual. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and though he already knew it was his mom, the timing couldn't have been worse.
Jennifer paused her lesson, turning her full attention to him.
"Mr. McCall?"
Scott looked up, immediately sensing the seriousness in her tone.
Jennifer folded her arms, her voice calm but firm. "Uh, I'm sure it's an emergency if your mother needs you to leave school, but I'm gonna give you a warning in the nicest possible way..." She hesitated for a moment, clearly choosing her words carefully. "I am well aware of your attendance record. I don't want to see you slip back into old habits."
Scott swallowed hard, nodding quickly. "I won't. It's gonna be different this year."
Jennifer raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Resolutions are only good if you stick with them, Scott."
He felt the pressure of her words but responded confidently, "I will. I promise it won't be... ephemeral."
Jennifer's lips twitched into a brief smile at the word, one she had just taught the class moments earlier. "Let's hope not."
With that, she turned back to the front of the class, resuming the lesson as Scott slouched slightly in his chair, exhaling the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
BLAKE'S POV
Blake, sitting nearby, couldn't help but smirk at Scott's use of the word ephemeral. It felt like the kind of thing people said when they were trying to sound like they had it all figured out. Blake had seen it before—big promises, good intentions, but not always the follow-through. Still, he respected the effort. He glanced at Allison, noticing how closely she had been watching Scott.
ALLISON'S POV
Allison felt a knot form in her stomach as she watched Scott promise to change. She knew how much pressure he put on himself. When he used ephemeral, she smiled slightly. It was a small moment of humor in a situation that felt too familiar—Scott trying to prove something to the world, and to himself.
She glanced over at Blake, catching his reaction. He seemed calm, as usual, but there was a faint hint of amusement on his face.
"What do you think?" she asked quietly.
BLAKE'S POV
Blake met her gaze, considering the question. "About Scott?"
Allison nodded, her eyes still full of concern.
Blake's voice was low and even. "Seems like he's serious. But words are just words."
Allison gave a small nod, her fingers drumming lightly on her desk. "Yeah, but Scott always tries to keep his promises."
Blake leaned back in his chair slightly, thinking it over. "Keeping promises is harder than making them," he said, his tone thoughtful. "Especially when things get... complicated."
Allison tilted her head, intrigued by his perspective. "You speak from experience?"
Blake shrugged. "Everyone's got their own stuff, right? Just gotta figure out what's worth fighting for."
Allison studied him for a moment, sensing there was more to his story. "You're pretty good at keeping things close to the chest."
Blake smiled faintly. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like to listen first."
Allison returned the smile, feeling a strange comfort in his words. "You might just fit in around here."
STILES' POV
Stiles furrowed his brow, focusing on Lydia's arm. "Hey, Lydia—what is that? Is that from the accident?"
Lydia glanced down at the small bite mark on her forearm, looking a bit embarrassed. "No... Prada bit me."
Stiles blinked. "Your dog?"
Lydia gave him an exasperated look. "No, my designer handbag."
Stiles stared at her blankly.
"Yes, my dog," Lydia clarified, rolling her eyes.
Stiles' face shifted to concern. "Has it ever bitten you before?"
Lydia shook her head. "Mm-mm."
Stiles frowned, his mind racing. "Okay, what if it's, like, the same thing as the deer? You know, how animals start acting weird before an earthquake or something?"
Lydia raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Meaning what? There's going to be an earthquake?"
Stiles hesitated, clearly unsettled. "Or something. I just... maybe it means something's coming. Something bad."
Lydia let out a sigh, dismissing his theory. "It was a deer and a dog."
Still, her sarcasm didn't hide the lingering tension. "What's that thing you say about threes?" Lydia asked, voice dripping with irony. "Once... twice..."
Before she could finish, Jennifer's sharp voice cut through the air.
"Get down, everyone! Get down! Down! Get down!"
BLAKE'S POV
Blake immediately turned his head toward the front of the room as the atmosphere shifted. Jennifer's command wasn't one of casual warning; it was filled with urgency. Just then, a loud thud rattled the classroom window.
Blake's eyes flicked to the window just as another thud hit. A dark swarm of birds slammed into the glass with terrifying force, the sound reverberating through the room.
Allison, sitting beside him, stiffened in her seat, her wide eyes fixed on the window.
CRACK.
The window began to splinter under the pressure. Blake's instincts took over. He reached out, grabbing Allison by the waist just as the glass shattered, a storm of birds pouring into the room.
STILES' POV
Stiles ducked under his desk as birds burst into the classroom, their wings beating furiously, feathers flying everywhere.
"What the hell?" he yelled, trying to shield himself from the chaos.
Lydia crouched beside him, her eyes wide. "This is not what I had in mind for threes!"
Birds swooped down toward them, flapping and screeching, as students panicked, scrambling for cover.
BLAKE'S POV
As the birds swarmed into the classroom, Blake quickly pulled Allison closer, pressing her up against the wall to shield her. He positioned himself between her and the chaotic mass of birds, his arms protectively bracing her body.
"Stay behind me," Blake said firmly, his voice low but calm, his eyes scanning the room as he kept his body between Allison and the attacking birds.
Allison's heart pounded in her chest as Blake's protective stance blocked her from the incoming danger. She clutched his arm, trying to steady her breathing, her gaze flicking to the crazed flurry of birds attacking students.
"Thanks," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos, her breath shaky.
Blake nodded slightly, his eyes focused on keeping her safe as the birds circled the room, battering against anything in their way. He kept her close, ensuring she stayed out of harm's reach, as the room spiraled into pandemonium.
JENNIFER'S POV
Jennifer's eyes darted across the room, trying to maintain control as students ducked under desks, shielding themselves from the onslaught of birds.
"Everyone stay down!" she shouted, but it was clear the panic had already taken over.
She rushed toward the door, herding students away from the windows as the birds continued their relentless assault.
SCOTT'S POV
Scott followed his mom down the hospital hallway, his brow furrowed with concern. He had sensed that something was off, but now it was confirmed.
"Why didn't you tell me before?" Scott asked, his voice laced with frustration.
Melissa sighed, keeping her eyes forward. "Honestly? I was hoping I didn't have to..."
Scott's steps slowed slightly. "What do you mean?"
Melissa finally turned to face him, her eyes soft with the worry of a mother. "Everything you've been doing—the extra reading, the summer school, saving up for the bike, even though it scares me half to death..." She paused, taking a breath. "Honey, I just didn't want to disrupt a good rhythm."
Scott's jaw tightened, determination flashing in his eyes. "It's not gonna stop. I—I'm gonna be better this year. A better student, a better son, a better friend, a better everything. I promise."
Melissa studied her son for a moment, then nodded, though her concern lingered. "Okay..." she said softly. She glanced at the chart in her hand before continuing, "He's in room 215, if he isn't already in surgery."
Scott gave her a quick, grateful nod. "Thank you."
Scott entered the hospital elevator, his mind racing as he thought of Isaac. He barely noticed when a man stepped in beside him—Deucalion.
"Would you hit the button for the second floor, please?" Deucalion asked, his voice smooth and almost too polite.
Scott glanced at him, a slight chill running down his spine, but he nodded and pressed the button. "Yeah."
"Thank you," Deucalion said with a faint smile, his voice calm but carrying an unsettling edge.
Scott remained quiet, his instincts telling him something was off about this man, though he couldn't place it just yet.
DR. VANDENBERG'S POV
Dr. Vandenberg stormed into the operating room, his expression a mix of disbelief and frustration.
"What the hell is this?" he shouted, staring down at Isaac, who had already healed.
Isaac lay on the table, breathing steadily, his body showing no signs of the injuries that had brought him there.
Dr. Vandenberg turned to the medical staff, arms flailing. "Does someone want to explain this to me?!"
The staff exchanged confused glances, unsure of what to say.
SCOTT'S POV
As Scott stepped out of the elevator, Deucalion's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"You wouldn't mind helping me out for a second, would you?" Deucalion asked, his tone too casual for the request.
Scott hesitated, uncertain of what Deucalion wanted. "Um... sure?" he replied, unsure of what he was agreeing to.
DR. VANDENBERG'S POV
Dr. Vandenberg stood in the room, shaking his head in frustration.
"Here's an idea," he said, pointing to the medical staff. "Why don't you wheel this joker out of here and get somebody that actually needs to be operated on? NOW!"
With that, he stormed out, grumbling to himself. "I'm gonna go smoke."
DEREK'S POV
Ennis stood tall, his posture rigid as he faced Derek. His voice was low, dangerous. "Don't you realize what you're dealing with? I'm an Alpha."
Derek's eyes narrowed, his own Alpha power bristling just beneath the surface. "So am I," he growled, his tone sharp, refusing to back down.
Tension thickened between them, the air almost vibrating with power as the two Alphas sized each other up.
Derek's expression suddenly shifted, and he quirked an eyebrow at Ennis, his tone mocking. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?"
STILES' POV
Stiles slowly rose from behind his desk, his eyes scanning the wreckage of the bird attack. Feathers and shards of glass were scattered everywhere, and shock hung heavy in the air. He caught sight of Miss Blake, standing frozen at the front of the classroom, clearly shaken.
"Miss Blake? You okay?" Stiles asked, concern etched in his voice as he cautiously approached her.
Miss Blake blinked, snapping out of her daze. "Uh, yeah... I think so," she muttered, still looking rattled.
Stiles gave her a sympathetic smile, trying to ease the tension. "Uh, sorry... that was insane."
Miss Blake nodded slowly, clearly still trying to process what had just happened. Stiles glanced around the room, checking to make sure the others were okay.
BLAKE'S POV
Blake stood up after the chaos of the bird attack settled, his hand still lingering protectively on Allison's waist. He glanced down at her, his calm expression softening as he gauged how she was doing.
"You okay?" Blake asked, his voice low but full of concern.
Allison looked up at him, her breathing finally beginning to steady after the shock. "Yeah... yeah, I'm okay," she nodded quickly. "Thanks to you."
Blake gave her a small, reassuring smile. "Anytime," he said simply, pulling his hand away but staying close by her side.
ALLISON'S POV
Just as everyone started to collect themselves, Argent rushed into the classroom. His eyes scanned the room, and the moment they found Allison, his face tightened with concern. He crossed the room quickly, his focus locked on her.
"Next time you're feeling like you wanna stay home? You stay home," Argent said firmly, his protective instincts kicking in.
Allison tried to smile, though she was still visibly shaken. "I'm okay, Dad. Really."
Argent raised an eyebrow, his worry still evident. "Are you sure? The deer, and now this?"
Allison sighed. "I know... it can't be a coincidence. But honestly, I'm fine... thanks to Blake." She gestured toward Blake, who had been quietly standing nearby.
Argent's gaze shifted to Blake, his expression guarded as he sized up the young man.
"Dad, this is Blake Grey," Allison introduced him. "He helped me... kept me safe."
Blake stepped forward, offering his hand. "Nice to meet you, sir."
Argent hesitated for a brief moment, his eyes flicking between Blake and Allison, before extending his hand. "Blake, huh?" His voice held a hint of skepticism, but he masked it quickly. "Thank you for looking out for my daughter."
Blake nodded, his expression calm. "No problem."
Allison smiled gratefully at Blake. "Yeah, he practically saved me."
Argent's eyes narrowed slightly before he gave Blake a nod. "I appreciate it."
STILINSKI'S POV
As the tension began to settle, Sheriff Stilinski stepped forward, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Mr. Argent? You wouldn't happen to have any insight into this, would you?"
Argent's posture stiffened as he turned his attention to the Sheriff. "Me?"
Stilinski nodded. "Yeah, all this bizarre animal behavior—it's a little out of the ordinary. You must have seen something like this before, right?"
Argent's jaw clenched, and his expression became defensive. "I'm not sure why I would or why you think I would."
Stilinski raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry. I could've sworn I overheard my son talking about how you're an experienced hunter..."
Argent forced a small, tight smile. "Ah, right. Well, not anymore."
Stilinski didn't push the issue further, but he kept his gaze on Argent a moment longer. "You all right?" he asked, turning his attention to Allison.
Allison nodded quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine now."
STILES' POV
Stiles paced the school hallway, his phone pressed tightly to his ear, his voice filled with urgency. "We've got a serious problem at school. Miss Blake's class—"
On the other end, Scott interrupted him. "Hey, can you tell me about it later?"
Stiles froze in his tracks, his eyes widening in disbelief. "No, I'm pretty sure this qualifies for immediate discussion..."
Scott's voice remained calm, but there was an edge to it. "Okay. Then meet me at Derek's."
"Derek's house? What the hell are you doing at—"
"Just meet us here, okay?" Scott cut him off, hanging up before Stiles could ask more questions.
SCOTT'S POV
Scott pocketed his phone, looking up at the crumbling remains of Derek's old family home. The once-proud Hale house was now nothing more than charred ruins, a haunting reminder of past horrors. Scott hesitated before turning to Derek, who stood a few feet away, silently staring at the ruins.
"You don't still live here, do you?" Scott asked gently.
Derek shook his head, his gaze never leaving the house. "No... The county took it over." He paused, his voice heavy with unspoken emotion. "But there's something here I need. It'll help heal a wound from an Alpha."
Scott's brow furrowed in confusion. "Yeah, but it did heal..."
Derek finally looked at him, his face hard. "Not on the inside."
The words hung in the air, thick with a meaning Scott couldn't fully grasp. He hesitated, wanting to ask more, but sensing Derek wasn't ready to talk.
"Hey," Scott ventured cautiously, "are you gonna tell me who that was back there? That Alpha?"
Derek sighed, tension in his shoulders. "A rival pack. It's my problem."
Scott frowned, his concern deepening. "I wanna help, Derek."
Derek's expression softened slightly. "I know you wanna help, and you did—you helped. I owe you one. Now, go home. Go back to being a teenager."
Scott stood there, wrestling with the weight of it all. He knew Derek was trying to protect him, to push him back toward a normal life, but Scott had crossed that line long ago.
"Uh, hey, Derek?" Scott called after a pause, his tone more serious. "If you wanna repay that favor now... there is something you can do for me."
Derek raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "What is it?"
LYDIA'S POV
Lydia scanned the hallway, her usual confidence radiating as she caught sight of Blake standing near Allison. Her lips curved into a slow, intrigued smile as she made her way toward them.
"Blake Grey," she said smoothly, her voice carrying just the right amount of allure. "Didn't expect to see you again so soon."
Blake turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers with that same composed calmness he always had. "Guess Beacon Hills is smaller than it seems," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Lydia stepped a little closer, her gaze never leaving his. "Seems like it," she purred, her voice low and seductive. "You settling in okay? Need help navigating the more... complicated parts of this place?"
Blake gave her a small, knowing smile, his expression controlled but subtly engaging. "I think I'm getting the hang of it," he said, his eyes flicking briefly to Allison before settling back on Lydia. "But I'll keep your offer in mind."
Lydia's smile deepened, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "I'm sure you will."
Before Blake could respond, the moment was interrupted by Braeden, who walked up with purpose, her voice cutting through the conversation. "Where's Scott McCall?"
Lydia's seductive demeanor shifted immediately as Braeden's intensity hit the group like a wave. Allison tensed beside Blake, her discomfort clear.
"You're Allison, right?" Braeden asked, her tone direct and unyielding.
Allison blinked, surprised. "Yeah... How do you know...?"
"Where's Scott?" Braeden pressed, her eyes locked on Allison.
Allison hesitated, glancing between Braeden and Blake. "He had to leave. He was supposed to be back in class—"
"Is he coming back?" Braeden demanded, her tone sharp.
Lydia, sensing the rising tension, took a step forward, her voice laced with sarcasm but still holding a sharp edge. "Hey, easy with the physicality, sweetheart!" she quipped, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Ugh! Well, she bruised me."
Allison rubbed her arm, echoing Lydia's frustration. "Huh. Me too."
Blake remained close to Allison, his calm demeanor unchanged, though his body language shifted slightly, becoming more protective.
Just then, Argent arrived, his presence immediately shifting the dynamic. "Come on, let's get you two girls out of here. School can wait another day."
Lydia turned back to Blake, her eyes lingering on him, her flirtatious energy still present. "So soon, Blake? Thought you might stick around a bit longer," she said, her voice dripping with seduction.
Blake smirked slightly, his eyes catching hers with a playful glint. "Depends on what's keeping me here."
Lydia's smile widened, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "Well, don't be a stranger."
Argent interrupted, his voice softening as he addressed Allison. "Sweetheart?" he said gently. "You don't have to worry about this anymore. Remember our agreement? We stay in Beacon Hills, but only if we stay out of this. It's not our problem now, okay?"
Allison nodded slowly, still visibly shaken, but with a glance at Blake, she managed a small smile. "Okay."
As Argent ushered Allison and Lydia away, Lydia shot one last lingering glance at Blake. "I'll see you around, Blake," she said in a low, seductive tone before walking off, leaving the tension hanging in the air.
DEREK'S POV
Derek stood across from Scott, staring at the tattoo on his arm. "Yeah, I see it. It's two bands, right? What does it mean?"
Scott sighed, tracing the tattoo lightly with his fingers. "I don't know... It's just something I trace with my fingers."
Derek raised an eyebrow. "Why is this so important to you?"
Scott glanced at him, then at Stiles. "Do you know what the word 'tattoo' means?"
Stiles, quick as always, chimed in. "To mark something."
Scott nodded. "That's in Tahitian. In Samoan, it means 'open wound.' I knew I wanted to get a tattoo when I turned eighteen. I always wanted one. I just decided to get it now—it makes it kind of a reward."
Derek crossed his arms, looking more curious. "A reward for what?"
Scott hesitated, his voice quieter. "For not calling or texting Allison all summer. Even when I really wanted to, even when it was so hard not to sometimes... I was trying to give her the space she needed. Going on four months later, it still hurts. It still feels like a... open wound."
Stiles nodded, more seriously now. "Makes sense. Like an open wound."
Scott gave a small nod. "Yeah."
Derek let out a breath, his tone turning more serious. "The pain's gonna be worse than anything you've ever felt."
Stiles winced at Derek's grim warning. "Ah, that's great," he muttered sarcastically.
Scott's expression hardened with determination. "Do it."
Stiles took a step back, clearly uncomfortable. "Okay, that's a lot for me... I'm gonna wait outside—"
"Nope," Derek said firmly. "You're going to help. You'll need to hold him down."
Stiles's face went pale as he reluctantly stepped closer, already dreading what was coming next. "Oh, man..."
Derek grabbed a fire torch from the nearby table, the flames flickering to life as he approached Scott. The heat from the torch radiated through the room, and Scott's eyes widened slightly as Derek positioned it over his tattoo.
Derek pressed the torch to Scott's arm, the searing heat cutting through his skin like fire. Scott's entire body tensed, his muscles locking up as the pain exploded through him. He tried to stifle it at first, but it was unbearable.
Scott let out a scream, his voice raw from the agony as the torch burned deeper into his skin. His breathing became ragged, his body trembling as the pain intensified. His hands gripped the edges of the table, his knuckles turning white as he fought to stay in control.
Stiles stood beside him, gripping Scott's shoulders tightly to keep him still. "Oh my God, oh my God..." Stiles muttered under his breath, barely able to look at what was happening.
Scott's screams echoed through the room, the heat from the torch feeling like it was burning straight into his bones. His vision blurred as his body convulsed under the intensity of the pain, and every second felt like it lasted an eternity.
Derek worked quickly but methodically, pressing the torch to the tattoo and sealing the ink into Scott's skin. His face was grim, focused, knowing that this pain was a necessary part of the process.
After what felt like an eternity, Derek finally pulled the torch away, leaving Scott's arm seared and raw, the tattoo now permanently etched into his skin. Scott slumped forward, his breath coming in short gasps, his body drenched in sweat from the pain.
SCOTT'S POV
Scott lay on the floor, trembling as the pain slowly began to fade, leaving him exhausted but alive. "It worked," he gasped, his voice hoarse from screaming.
Stiles stared at Scott's arm, his face still pale. "Well... it looks pretty damn permanent now."
"Yeah," Scott muttered, running his hand gingerly over the new tattoo. "I kind of needed something permanent. Everything that's happening to us... everything just changes so fast. Everything's so... ephemeral."
Stiles gave a weak smile. "Studying for the PSATs?"
Scott nodded. "Yep."
Stiles tried to shake off the tension. "Nice."
Scott glanced around the room, noticing something different. "You painted the door," he said, his brow furrowing.
Derek, who had been standing off to the side, said nothing.
Scott frowned. "Why'd you paint the door?"
Derek's tone was sharp, shutting down the question. "Go home, Scott."
Scott wasn't ready to let it go. "And why only one side?"
Derek's eyes hardened. "Scott."
Scott shifted the conversation. "The birds at the school, and the deer last night... It's just like the night I got trampled by the deer when I got bit by the Alpha."
Derek exhaled heavily. "How many are there?"
"A pack of them," Derek said, his tone dark. "An Alpha Pack."
Stiles's eyes widened. "All of them? How does that even work?"
Derek's expression was grim. "There's a leader. He's called Deucalion."
The tension in the room thickened at the mention of the name.
"We know they have Boyd and Erica," Derek continued. "Peter, Isaac, and I have been looking for them for the last four months."
Scott nodded, considering. "Let's say you find them—how do you deal with an Alpha Pack?"
Derek's response was immediate. "With all the help I can get."
Stiles, ever curious, glanced at Scott before turning to Derek. "Speaking of help... Derek, do you know anything about the new kid at school? Blake?"
Derek's brow furrowed, clearly confused. "Who?"
"Blake Grey," Scott clarified. "He's new, just moved here. He hasn't been involved in anything so far, but... with all the weird stuff happening lately, we were wondering if he could be connected to any of this. Maybe to Deucalion?"
Derek shook his head, dismissing the idea. "I don't know him. Haven't noticed anything unusual."
Stiles raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I don't know, man. He's been pretty quiet, keeps to himself... You sure he's not tied into this somehow?"
Derek frowned, his attention shifting back to the immediate threat. "I'm not ruling anything out. But right now, we need to focus on what we know."
Before they could discuss Blake further, Isaac groaned from the corner of the room, his voice groggy. "Where is she? Where's the girl?"
Derek turned sharply toward Isaac, his focus shifting entirely. "What girl?"
SOMEWHERE IN THE WOODS - BRAEDEN'S POV
Deucalion stood in the dim light of the forest, his presence dark and commanding. His milky white eyes didn't need to see Braeden to feel the defiance radiating from her.
"Beautiful... but defiant... aren't you?" Deucalion said, his voice smooth, yet laced with menace.
Braeden, her voice steady despite the danger she was in, responded without hesitation. "Because I know something. I know you're afraid of him."
Deucalion raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into an amused smile. "Afraid? Of a teenage boy?"
Braeden's gaze didn't falter. "Not of who he is now. Of the man he'll become."
Deucalion's smile widened, but there was a flicker of something darker in his expression. He stepped closer, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. "I'm aware of a certain potential threat..."
He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. "But, then, someone once taught me a very smart way to eliminate a threat—" His tone turned colder, more calculating. "Get someone else to do it for you."
Braeden's eyes narrowed as Deucalion's words sank in. She knew exactly who he was referring to.
"Derek," Braeden whispered, her voice barely audible.
Deucalion gave a slow nod, but just as he was about to turn away, his expression shifted. His head tilted slightly, as if sensing something in the air. His smile returned, this time more curious than amused.
"And yet," Deucalion continued, his tone thoughtful, "there's something else. Something... new in Beacon Hills."
Braeden's brow furrowed in confusion.
Deucalion's eyes seemed to focus on something unseen. "I can sense another Alpha nearby. Not Derek." His voice carried a subtle edge of intrigue. "Someone... hidden."
Braeden's heart skipped a beat, but she remained silent, knowing better than to reveal what she didn't understand.
Deucalion chuckled softly. "It seems Beacon Hills is full of surprises."
He stepped away from Braeden, his voice trailing off. "We'll find out soon enough who this new Alpha is."
Braeden watched him leave, the weight of his words settling heavily on her. Whoever this new Alpha was, she knew Deucalion would stop at nothing to uncover their identity—and that could only mean more trouble for Beacon Hills.
BLAKE'S POV
Blake wiped down the counter of his mom's café, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. The café was mostly quiet, save for a few regulars sitting at the tables, sipping on their drinks. He moved with practiced ease, his tall frame fitting naturally behind the counter as he refilled a few coffee cups.
Karen Grey, his mom, stood nearby, arranging a few pastries in the display case. She glanced over at Blake with a warm smile. "So... how was your first day at school?"
Blake paused for a moment, wiping his hands on a towel before leaning against the counter. "It was... interesting," he said, his tone thoughtful.
Karen raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Interesting, huh? That's usually code for something more. Spill."
Blake chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I met a few people. Scott, Stiles... Lydia." His mind flickered through the faces of the people he had encountered that day.
"And?" Karen pressed, clearly wanting more details. "What do you think of them?"
Blake shrugged, his expression calm as he thought about each one. "Scott seems like a good guy. Quiet, serious... kind of carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, you know? But he's solid."
Karen nodded. "Sounds like someone you could get along with."
"Maybe," Blake said, a small smile playing on his lips. "Stiles is... well, he talks a lot. But he's sharp. You can tell there's more going on in his head than what he lets on."
"Always good to have someone like that around," Karen commented. "And Lydia?"
Blake hesitated for a moment, thinking back to Lydia's seductive demeanor when they had crossed paths. "Lydia... she's interesting. Confident. She knows how to get what she wants."
Karen raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile on her face. "Sounds like she made an impression."
Blake shrugged, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "She's definitely not shy."
Karen chuckled softly, leaning against the counter beside him. "And Allison?"
Blake's expression softened slightly at the mention of Allison. "Allison's... different. She seems strong, but there's something else—like she's trying to figure things out. She's still dealing with a lot, I think."
Karen watched her son carefully, sensing there was more to his words. "Sounds like you've got a pretty good read on them already."
Blake nodded, glancing out the café window, watching as the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon. "Yeah, maybe. Just... taking things one step at a time."
Karen placed a gentle hand on his arm, her smile full of warmth and pride. "You always were good at that, Blake. Just remember—Beacon Hills might be different, but you'll find your place. Like you always do."
Blake gave her a small, appreciative smile before pushing off the counter to finish cleaning up. "Thanks, Mom."
Karen returned to her work, but as Blake moved through the café, his mind drifted back to the faces he had seen today. Scott's quiet strength, Stiles' sharp wit, Lydia's confidence, and Allison's unspoken complexity. It was a new beginning