Chapter 4 - Episode 4

BLAKE'S HOUSE – EARLY MORNING

Blake crept up to the front door, the morning light just beginning to break over the horizon. The night had dragged on far longer than expected, and now the first slivers of dawn threatened to expose his long absence. His feet were heavy, sore from running through the woods, but his mind raced faster than his body could handle. He twisted the doorknob slowly, hoping the creaking wood wouldn't betray him.

Just get in, sneak upstairs, and avoid any long explanations, he thought to himself.

The door barely opened before his mom's voice cut through the early morning quiet.

"Blake Grey." Karen's tone was flat, a mix of annoyance and curiosity.

Blake winced, caught mid-sneak, his hand still on the knob. He turned to find his mom standing in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed, her hair slightly disheveled, dressed in an oversized sweater. Her tired eyes scanned him from head to toe, noticing the dirt on his clothes and the torn sleeve.

"Hey, Mom," Blake said, forcing a casual smile. "You're up early."

Karen didn't budge. She gave him the look—the kind that let him know she wasn't buying it. "It's past six in the morning, Blake. Where have you been all night?" she asked, stepping toward him.

Blake racked his brain, searching for a plausible excuse. His mom had a sixth sense when it came to sniffing out lies, so he had to tread carefully.

"I was, uh…" he trailed off, then decided to try a different approach. "I was with a girl." He flashed a sheepish grin, hoping to deflect some of her worry with the comment.

Karen raised an eyebrow, her expression softening only slightly. "A girl, huh?"

Blake nodded, leaning into his weak alibi. "Yeah, we, uh... we hung out by the lake. Talked all night. Lost track of time."

His mom sighed, rubbing her forehead like she always did when she was about to drop into lecture mode. "Blake, you didn't think to at least text me? You know I worry when you don't come home."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," Blake said, stepping further inside. "It wasn't planned, I swear. I just—one thing led to another…"

Karen glanced at his tattered clothes again, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "And I guess one thing led to you getting your clothes torn up, too?"

Blake chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "We might've done some hiking. You know, exploring the woods and stuff. It got a little wild."

Karen let out a long breath, shaking her head. "Blake, you're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days. Next time, can you at least try not to look like you got dragged through a forest?" Her tone softened, though, and a hint of a smile appeared. "Seriously, though... Are you okay?"

Blake met her gaze, feeling the concern in her words. As much as he wanted to tell her everything about what happened with Boyd and Cora, and the chaos of being a werewolf, he couldn't drag her into that world. But seeing her there, standing in the dim light of their home, made him realize how much he missed this—just her, being there, worrying about him like always.

"I'm okay, Mom," he said, his voice softer. "Really."

Karen studied him for another long moment before nodding. She wasn't entirely convinced, but she also knew when to push and when to let things go. She reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "You better be. And next time, you bring this girl to meet me, okay? You know the rules."

Blake grinned, relieved she was letting him off easy. "Deal."

Karen stepped back, nodding toward the stairs. "Go take a shower before you crash. You smell like the woods."

Blake laughed, heading toward the staircase. "I'll clean up. Thanks, Mom."

"And Blake," Karen called out before he disappeared upstairs. "Next time you decide to spend the night out, just shoot me a text, okay? I'm your mom, not a psychic."

Blake paused, turning back with a half-smile. "I'll text you next time, I promise."

He headed upstairs, feeling the exhaustion settling in, but also a sense of relief. As crazy as his night had been, coming home to his mom always grounded him. He closed the door behind him, collapsing onto his bed. The full moon might have been over, but the next challenge was just around the corner.

BEACON HILLS ANIMAL CLINIC - EARLY MORNING

Kyle stood near the exam table, keeping a close watch on Bullet as Dr. Deaton completed his examination. Scott lingered nearby, assisting Deaton and staying alert to any signs of trouble. The clinic hummed with a quiet calm, but there was something unsettling in the air.

"It's not gonna hurt him, is it?" Kyle asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

Deaton gave a calming smile. "Just a little. But I usually find that it's the owners… who feel the most pain."

Kyle chuckled nervously, his hands fidgeting as he tried to relax. "Yeah, I guess…"

Deaton returned to examining Bullet. "We'll just check the stool sample for parasites, but I suspect he ate something he shouldn't have."

Scott, hoping to ease the tension, smiled. "He's got a cool name."

"Yeah, well, his brothers are named Beretta and Trigger—military family," Kyle said with a grin. "He knows who the Alpha is."

Scott stiffened slightly at the mention of "Alpha" but played it off with a nervous laugh. "Right."

Kyle reached for Bullet's leash. "Come on, buddy, let's go." But Bullet didn't budge, his growl low and menacing.

Scott frowned and noticed something off in Bullet's fur. "Wait, I found something."

Deaton leaned in as Scott rinsed the fragment off under the sink. It revealed a dark, twisted piece of plant matter.

Deaton's expression shifted. "Rinse it more."

Scott did so, holding it up for Deaton to inspect. "What is it?"

"Mistletoe," Deaton said gravely. "Poisonous... for the dog. And for you."

Scott's eyes widened. "Wolfsbane?"

Deaton shook his head. "Mistletoe."

Suddenly, Bullet yanked hard on the leash, nearly knocking Kyle off balance. "Whoa, boy—easy!"

But Bullet didn't stop. With a loud snarl, he jerked free, tearing out of the clinic's front door with Kyle chasing after him.

"Bullet! Bullet, come back!" Kyle shouted, sprinting after his dog.

Scott quickly followed, panic rising. He raced outside after them but only found Bullet standing alone, panting near the parking lot.

"Kyle?" Scott called, his eyes darting around.

But there was no sign of Kyle.

Suddenly, a distorted voice echoed through the air, chilling Scott to the core.

"Closer... Come closer..."

Scott's eyes darted, scanning the area. He cautiously approached Bullet, unsure of what was happening. The dog stood still, no longer growling but clearly disturbed. Scott felt the presence of something far darker nearby, a warning echoing in his instincts.

He knelt next to Bullet, gently patting his head as he scanned the empty surroundings. Where had Kyle gone?

"Deaton's not going to like this," Scott muttered under his breath as he stood up, keeping his eyes peeled for any further sign of danger.

BLAKE'S HOUSE – MORNING

Blake groaned as the alarm blared from his phone, the relentless sound pulling him from a brief and restless sleep. He had barely managed two hours before it was time to get up for school. His muscles were still sore from the previous night's events, but that was nothing compared to the mental exhaustion from dodging questions and keeping secrets.

Rubbing his eyes, Blake dragged himself out of bed. He caught his reflection in the mirror, noting the faint shadows under his eyes. I look like I didn't sleep at all… he thought grimly, shaking his head before grabbing his clothes for the day.

Blake trudged downstairs, running a hand through his blonde hair, still half-damp from a quick shower. The smell of coffee wafted through the house, and there in the kitchen stood Karen, already dressed and ready for the day.

She gave him a pointed look as soon as he entered the room, her expression hovering between motherly concern and curiosity.

"Morning," Blake muttered, reaching for the coffee pot, hoping the caffeine would do something for the sleep deprivation.

Karen leaned on the counter, watching him closely. "You look like you barely slept."

Blake smirked, pouring the coffee into his mug. "Yeah, I didn't get much. Last night ran a little...long."

She gave him that mom-look again, eyebrows raised, knowing there was more to the story. "You're telling me. Coming in at six in the morning isn't exactly a 'quick night out,' you know."

Blake chuckled awkwardly, stirring his coffee. "Yeah, sorry about that, Mom. It wasn't planned."

Karen folded her arms, leaning against the counter. "You said you were with a girl, right?" Her voice was light, but there was a hint of something else, something more careful. "You haven't really...been out with anyone since Sarah."

The name hung in the air between them for a moment, heavy with memories. Blake's fingers tightened around his mug as he kept his expression neutral, but the mention of Sarah stirred something inside him—a mix of regret, sadness, and unresolved feelings.

"I wasn't really...'with' anyone like that," Blake replied, trying to downplay it with a smile. "It was just, you know, hanging out, talking. Got caught up."

Karen's gaze softened. She knew bringing up Sarah would touch a nerve, but she wasn't trying to make things harder for him. "I know you miss her, Blake," she said gently. "You don't talk about it, but I know."

Blake sighed, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "It's not that, Mom. I just... I don't know. It's complicated."

Karen stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm. "It's okay to move on, you know. You're allowed to let yourself...move forward."

Blake met her eyes for a moment, grateful for the concern, but the weight of everything—his past, his werewolf life, the secrets he couldn't share—it was all too much. He forced a grin, trying to shift the mood. "I know, Mom. But right now, I've just gotta focus on not passing out during class."

She gave him a small smile in return, sensing his need to change the subject. "Well, in that case, you might need more than just coffee," she teased. "But seriously, Blake—next time you're going to be out all night, at least let me know. I don't want to be up all night worrying."

"Promise," Blake said with a grin, taking a sip of his coffee. "I'll send a text next time."

Karen shook her head with a fond smile, watching him as he grabbed his bag from the chair. "Alright, but take it easy today, okay? You look like you could use a nap."

"I'll survive," Blake replied, heading for the door. "See you later, Mom."

As the door closed behind him, Blake exhaled, feeling the tension ease just a little. The night's chaos was behind him for now, but school and everything that came with it was still waiting. He had to keep it together—at least for another day.

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL – MORNING

The hallways were quiet as students made their way to class, the tension from the previous night's events still lingering in the air. Inside one of the classrooms, Jennifer Blake stood alone, visibly shaken. Her mind raced, replaying the chaos she had just experienced. She was still trying to make sense of it all when she heard the door creak open behind her.

A deep, calm voice interrupted her thoughts.

"AHHHHH!" Jennifer shrieked, turning abruptly. She held her breath, fear tightening in her chest as she stared at the imposing figure in the doorway—Derek Hale.

Derek held his hands up, his expression neutral but slightly confused by her reaction. "I was just checking to see if you were okay."

Jennifer, still rattled, shifted nervously on her feet. "What do you want?" she asked, her words spilling out anxiously. "You gonna threaten me? Tell me that no one's gonna believe me? Try to scare me? ...Kill me?"

Derek blinked, caught off guard by her rambling. He stepped further into the room, his hands still raised in a gesture of non-threat. "I was gonna see if you were okay," he repeated, his tone genuine.

"Physically or emotionally?" Jennifer asked, her voice still trembling but softer now. "Although, I guess that presupposes I was emotionally okay before any of this, and, according to my therapist, I—" She paused, forcing a nervous laugh. "...It's been debatable for a long time."

Derek's lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. "I think you're gonna be okay."

Jennifer's wide eyes softened at his calm reassurance, but the anxiety still clung to her. "Obviously, you've never taught high school. In twenty minutes, I have to start two dozen teenagers on The Crucible, and I honestly have no idea what I'm gonna say."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you start by telling them that it's an allegory for McCarthyism?"

Jennifer blinked, surprised by the suggestion. "Is that a subtle way of suggesting that I shouldn't say anything? Because I won't."

Derek chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "No... just trying to help."

Jennifer's curiosity got the better of her, and she tilted her head slightly. "Who are you, anyway?"

Derek hesitated for a moment before answering, "I'm Derek."

Jennifer offered a small, nervous smile in return. "I'm Jennifer." She held his gaze for a moment, studying the enigmatic stranger before her. She had seen him before—around the school, in the shadows—but tonight, he seemed different. Something about his presence, his calm under pressure, made her feel safer, despite the madness swirling around them.

As Derek nodded, the tension in the room seemed to ease just a little. But as much as Jennifer wanted to believe everything was going to be okay, she knew deep down that this was only the beginning.

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL – MORNING

Blake pulled his car into the school parking lot, the familiar purr of the engine dying as he found a spot near the front. The sun hung low, casting long shadows as students milled around, some chatting in groups, others hurrying to their morning classes. His 6'5" frame made him stand out naturally, and his broad, muscular physique—reminiscent of someone who spent years honing their body through physical exertion—didn't go unnoticed by the students passing by. He had the kind of presence that drew attention effortlessly, but there was something in his demeanor that kept it grounded. Despite the quiet confidence in his stride, there was a subtle awkwardness—an underlying shyness masked by a calm exterior.

As Blake stepped out of the car, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder, he caught the eyes of a few girls walking nearby. One of them nudged her friend, whispering something while they glanced in his direction. Blake offered a small smile, his blue eyes briefly locking with theirs before he turned toward the entrance of the school. He still wasn't used to the extra attention he'd been getting since he arrived in Beacon Hills, but it wasn't something he could avoid either.

Once inside, Blake made his way through the bustling hallways toward the locker room. The usual buzz of morning chatter filled the air, but Blake kept to himself, only nodding at a few passing students. As he pushed open the door to the locker room, the scent of deodorant and sweat hit him, reminding him of every high school locker room he'd ever been in.

He found an empty spot and started changing into his gym clothes, pulling his shirt over his defined chest and abs with ease. His athletic build made his gym shirt feel almost too tight, but Blake didn't think much of it. He quickly swapped his jeans for a pair of shorts and tied up his sneakers, mentally preparing himself for whatever Coach had planned for them today.

The sound of the locker room door creaking open made him glance up just as Scott and Stiles entered.

"Hey, Blake," Scott greeted him with a nod. "You ready for whatever Coach has planned?"

Blake grinned, pulling his locker shut. "As ready as I'll ever be. Cross-country, right?"

Stiles groaned dramatically, already slumping against a nearby locker. "Don't remind me. Running is a punishment, not a sport. I mean, who in their right mind signs up for cross-country on purpose?"

Blake chuckled, adjusting his gym bag strap over his shoulder. "You know, you might actually enjoy it if you worked on your stamina, Stiles."

Stiles gave him an exaggerated look of disbelief. "Stamina? I have plenty of stamina. I'm just... conserving it for the important things, like... not running."

Scott laughed, shaking his head as he finished tying his shoes. "Yeah, sure, Stiles. We'll see how long you last."

The three of them headed out of the locker room together, walking through the hallways toward the field. As they neared the doors, the conversation shifted.

"So, you hear about that guy who's missing? Kyle something?" Scott asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

Blake nodded, catching the serious tone. "Yeah, I heard a few people talking about it. Think it's connected to everything going on?"

Before Scott could respond, Stiles cut in, his voice tinged with nervous energy. "Okay, but real talk—was he a virgin? Did he look like a virgin? Because I'm starting to think there's a pattern here, and guess what? That puts me at risk!"

Blake blinked, confused for a second before he caught on. "A virgin? Seriously?"

Stiles nodded dramatically, pointing at himself. "Yes! Me. Virgin. And right now, that's like wearing a target on my back. If these sacrifices or whatever are happening to people like me, I am in serious danger!"

Scott tried to hold back a laugh but failed. "Stiles, you're not the only one worried, man. I don't know if Kyle was a virgin, but we need to figure out what's happening before anyone else goes missing."

Blake couldn't help but chuckle at Stiles' over-the-top reaction. "So what's the plan, then? We find out who's next on the 'sacrifice' list?"

Stiles sighed, looking even more exasperated. "That's the thing! How do we know who's next? It could be anyone. Hell, it could be me! Someone's gotta sex me up before I become the next victim!"

At that exact moment, Danny walked by, overhearing the conversation. Without missing a beat, he deadpanned, "I'll do it. Come by my place at nine. Plan to stay the night. I like to cuddle."

Stiles froze, blinking in disbelief. "Wait, what?"

Blake burst out laughing, and even Scott couldn't hide his grin. Danny just shrugged and kept walking, leaving Stiles standing there, stunned.

"I—what? Are you serious?" Stiles stammered.

Danny turned back briefly, smirking. "Nope. Kidding."

Stiles threw his hands up, looking genuinely offended. "Not cool, Danny! You don't play with a guy's emotions like that!"

Blake shook his head, amused at the entire exchange. "You walked right into that one, man."

Stiles gave an exaggerated sigh but eventually cracked a smile. "Yeah, well, what can I say? Desperate times, desperate measures."

As they stepped out onto the field, Coach blew the whistle, signaling the start of their run. Blake glanced over at Scott and Stiles, feeling a growing sense of camaraderie between them. Despite the chaos and supernatural drama that lurked in the shadows, moments like this made him feel more grounded. Beacon Hills wasn't just a stop on the way—it was starting to feel like a place where he belonged.

As they started their laps, Blake's powerful stride easily carried him forward. His physique—tall, broad-shouldered, with muscles that rippled as he ran—made it look effortless. Scott glanced at him, impressed as usual by how natural it seemed for Blake to keep pace. Even Stiles, who was trailing behind, had to admit Blake made it all look way too easy.

"You're not even breaking a sweat, man," Scott noted, trying to match Blake's pace.

Blake shrugged, offering a small grin. "I've always been good at keeping up."

Stiles, far behind but still keeping an ear out for the conversation, groaned loudly. "Yeah, well, some of us don't have superhuman stamina, okay? I'm dying back here!"

Blake glanced over his shoulder, chuckling. "Keep pushing, Stiles. You got this."

Stiles responded with another dramatic groan, but there was a hint of determination in his step. Even if he complained, Blake could tell Stiles wasn't the type to give up easily.

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL - TRACK FIELD

The students were scattered across the field, following Coach's orders to pace themselves for the run. Blake, Scott, and Stiles had already set off, keeping a steady rhythm as they completed their laps. Blake, ran with an effortless grace. His powerful strides making the run feel like a light jog for him. He noticed the curious glances from some of the girls on the sidelines, who whispered and giggled as he passed by. Blake smirked, throwing a casual wink in their direction, but his focus quickly shifted when Scott's voice cut through the air.

"Isaac!" Scott called out, breaking Blake's concentration. He turned just in time to see Isaac break away from the group, his eyes locked on something—or someone—in the distance.

"Isaac, wait!" Scott shouted again, but Isaac was already sprinting toward the edge of the field.

Blake, with his heightened instincts, sensed what was coming before he even saw them. His eyes flicked toward the direction Isaac was running. There they were—Ethan and Aiden, the twin Alphas. Even from a distance, their aura was unmistakable. They carried themselves with a cocky arrogance, knowing they were stronger than most around them.

"Great," Blake muttered under his breath, his pace quickening as he caught up to Isaac before he reached the twins.

Placing a firm hand on Isaac's shoulder, Blake stopped him in his tracks. "You're not going over there alone," Blake said calmly, his voice steady but authoritative.

Isaac looked up at Blake, frustration etched on his face. "It's them."

"I know," Blake replied, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto the twins. "But running in there alone isn't going to solve anything."

Before Scott could reach them, the twins closed the gap. Aiden spoke first, his voice dripping with condescension. "Ethan, I always forget—how many bones in the human body?"

Ethan smirked, glancing at Aiden. "I don't know. Let's count."

Scott finally caught up, stepping in beside Blake and Isaac. Blake's muscles tensed as the twins advanced, their smug expressions fueling the tension in the air. Blake could feel the eyes of the other students around them, watching the interaction closely. This wasn't the place for a full-blown fight, but that didn't mean Blake was going to back down.

The twins took another step forward, clearly testing the waters. Blake didn't flinch. He took a step of his own, positioning himself squarely in front of Isaac and Scott, his imposing physique making it clear he wasn't someone to mess with.

"You really think that's gonna work?" Blake asked, his voice calm but filled with an underlying challenge.

Ethan and Aiden paused, their eyes narrowing as they assessed Blake. Scott was beside him, but it was Blake's presence that held their attention. He exuded confidence, the kind that came with knowing he could handle himself, Alpha or not.

Aiden sneered. "You think you're tough, huh?"

Blake didn't even blink. "You wanna find out?" His tone was light, but the threat was clear.

The tension between them was palpable, and for a moment, it seemed like things were about to escalate. But then, a piercing scream shattered the standoff.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

All four of them turned toward the source of the scream—Ashley, one of the students on the field, stood frozen in fear, her eyes wide as she pointed toward something none of them could see from their angle.

Scott's heart raced. "Ashley!"

In that moment, the twins backed off, their interest shifting away from the potential fight. Whatever had just happened with Ashley was enough to break their focus. Aiden shot Blake one last glare before muttering, "This isn't over."

Blake watched as the twins retreated, their posturing losing some of its edge. He could feel Scott and Isaac relax slightly beside him, but the scream still echoed in his ears. Something was wrong, and it wasn't just the twins.

"Let's go," Scott said, urgency in his voice as he moved toward Ashley.

Blake followed closely, his eyes scanning the field for any signs of danger. Whatever had just happened, it wasn't over yet.

As they approached Ashley, Blake couldn't shake the feeling that things in Beacon Hills were about to get a lot more complicated.

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL - TRACK FIELD

The area was in chaos as students and staff alike crowded around the scene. Police tape was hastily being put up, and Beacon Hills Sheriff, Stilinski, was barking orders, trying to maintain some control over the situation. Scott, Stiles, Blake, and Isaac stood on the edge of the crowd, their faces grim as they watched the scene unfold in front of them.

Blake shifted uneasily, his sharp eyes scanning the area. Something felt off, the air heavy with a sense of dread. The tension around him was thick, but he remained calm, his mind working through everything he was seeing. He had no idea what exactly had happened here, but judging by the reactions of Scott and Stiles, this was bad.

"It's him, isn't it?" Stiles' voice cracked through the tension, pulling everyone's attention.

"Hey, get out of the way! Get back!" Sheriff Stilinski shouted, moving through the crowd toward his son.

Blake glanced toward the center of the commotion and caught sight of the body—Kyle. The sight of the pale, lifeless body sent a shiver down his spine, though he kept his composure.

Stilinski hurried over, irritation and exhaustion in his voice as he addressed the group. "Do me a favor? Go back to school, yeah?" He shot Stiles a tired look, but Stiles wasn't ready to leave.

"Dad, just come here. Look, look!" Stiles pointed to the body, his urgency clear. "Look at it—it's the same as the others, you see?"

Blake's eyes flicked to Stiles. He didn't need to be a detective to know that Stiles was right. The injuries, the way the body was left—it was just like the previous murders. He'd seen enough to know a pattern when it was staring him in the face.

"Yeah, I see that," Stilinski sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Coach, can you give us a hand here?"

Coach Finstock, standing nearby, snapped into action. "You heard the man! Nothing to see here! Probably just some homeless kid..." His attempt to dismiss the situation was interrupted as Scott spoke up.

"Coach?" Scott's voice was low, filled with a mix of sadness and frustration. "He was a senior."

Coach paused, his expression faltering for a moment. "Oh... He wasn't on the team, was he?"

Before Scott could respond, Ashley's voice cut through the commotion, her scream echoing across the field. "AHHHHHH! KYLE! Oh, God, Kyle!"

Blake's jaw tightened, his muscles instinctively tensing as he saw Ashley breaking down, her anguish piercing through the noise. For a moment, he felt the urge to go comfort her, but he stayed where he was, knowing this was something none of them could fix right now.

Stilinski waved the crowd back, trying to restore order. "Go on! Go," he commanded, gesturing toward the students who were still lingering around.

As the situation settled slightly, Isaac turned to Scott and Stiles, his voice sharp. "You see the way the twins looked at him?"

Blake raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He'd seen the twins earlier too, and there had definitely been something about the way they watched everything unfold.

"Yeah," Stiles scoffed, shaking his head. "You mean like they had no idea what happened?"

"No." Isaac was resolute. "No, they knew."

Blake stayed quiet, observing the conversation. He didn't know the full history between Isaac, the twins, and the others, but he could sense the tension. Whatever was going on, it was personal for Isaac.

"The kid was strangled with a garrote, all right?" Stiles argued, his voice filled with frustration. "Am I the only one recognizing the lack of Werewolf-itude in these murders?"

Blake's gaze flicked back to the body. Stiles had a point. The method didn't scream "Werewolf." But things in Beacon Hills were never that simple, and Blake knew better than to jump to conclusions.

"Oh, you think it's a coincidence they turn up and then people start dying?" Isaac shot back, his anger bubbling to the surface.

Stiles opened his mouth to retort, but his words died on his lips as he glanced at Scott. "Scott? How 'bout you?"

Scott shifted uncomfortably, caught between Isaac and Stiles. "I don't know yet," he admitted.

Stiles' disbelief was palpable. "You don't know yet???" he repeated, his voice rising in exasperation.

Blake, still standing beside them, observed the exchange. He could see Scott's internal conflict, the weight of responsibility weighing heavily on him. Blake had seen that look before—in himself, in Sarah, back when things had been simpler.

"Well, he's got a point," Scott said, trying to reason with both of them. "Seriously, dude? Human sacrifices?"

Stiles threw his hands up in frustration. "Scott, your eyes turn into yellow glow-sticks, okay? Hair literally grows from your cheeks and then will immediately disappear, and if I were to stab you right now, it would just magically heal, but you're telling me that you're having trouble grasping human sacrifices???" His sarcasm cut through the tension, but it did little to calm anyone down.

Blake, sensing the rising frustration, spoke up for the first time. "Look," he said, his voice calm but firm. "We don't have all the answers right now. What we do know is that this keeps happening, and we need to figure it out before more people end up like him." He gestured toward Kyle's body.

Isaac, his jaw tight, added quietly, "I don't care. They killed that kid. They killed the girl that saved me." His fists clenched at his sides. "I'm gonna kill them too."

Blake watched Isaac carefully, noting the anger and pain in his voice. He understood that feeling, the rage bubbling beneath the surface, the desire for revenge. But he also knew that acting on that impulse wouldn't solve anything.

"We'll handle this," Blake said, his tone steady. "But we need to do it smart. Charging in without a plan isn't going to bring anyone back."

Scott looked at Blake, appreciating his level-headedness in the face of the chaos. Stiles, still visibly frustrated, crossed his arms but didn't argue further.

DEREK'S LOFT – DAY

Derek paced across the loft, his eyes flicking toward Cora, who sat on the edge of the bed, clearly impatient. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the room as the day began to fade. Cora's frustration was palpable, her posture tense as she pushed herself to her feet, despite still recovering from her time in the vault.

"Stop," Derek ordered, his voice edged with concern. "You're not done healing."

Cora shot him a sharp look, her defiance clear. "Yeah? Well, I'm done lying around." She crossed her arms, her eyes locked on Derek.

Derek sighed, trying to keep his temper in check. "Sit," he demanded, knowing full well she wouldn't listen.

Cora moved toward him, her fists clenched at her sides. "Are you going to help me go after them, or are we just going to sit here and wait to be picked off?" Her voice was harsh, echoing her desperation.

"Cora…" Derek started, but she cut him off.

"Come on, fight back!" she snapped. "I came back for this?" Cora's voice cracked, and for a moment, her tough exterior faltered. "I can't believe I got my ass thrown in a vault for three months for you!"

Derek felt the weight of her words, the guilt twisting inside him. He had promised to protect his family, to rebuild the Hales, and now this.

"All those rumors I heard..." Cora continued, her voice heavy with disappointment. "A powerful new Alpha. One of the Hales! Building a pack! Do you have any idea what it felt like to find out you were alive?"

Derek winced. "I'm sorry to disappoint you," he muttered, his tone laced with regret.

Cora was about to respond when a shift in the air caught Derek's attention. His heightened senses went on alert. The sound of footsteps approaching the loft, slow and deliberate, sent a chill down his spine.

"What's that?" Cora asked, her frustration giving way to wariness.

"Trouble," Derek said under his breath, just before the loft door burst open.

The massive figure of Ennis appeared in the doorway, his eyes glowing with malicious intent.

"No, wait! WAIT!" Derek shouted, moving to block the entrance, but Ennis was faster.

The large Alpha lunged at Derek, slamming into him with brutal force. Derek crashed against the wall, a guttural growl escaping his lips as pain surged through his body.

Ennis grinned, his teeth bared. "Ready for a rematch?"

Derek barely had time to recover before Ennis was on him again, lifting him off his feet and throwing him across the room. Derek hit the ground hard, his body screaming in agony.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Derek's roar filled the loft, but he struggled to get up.

Before Ennis could strike again, a calm, yet commanding voice broke through the chaos.

"Everybody done?" Deucalion stepped into view, his presence sending a wave of cold through the room.

Deucalion's tone was casual, but his eyes glinted with lethal intent. "Because just listening to this was exhausting."

Ennis backed off, leaving Derek gasping for breath on the floor, his body aching from the fight.

Deucalion slowly approached, his cane tapping lightly against the wooden floor. "So… let's chat."

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL - FRENCH CLASS - MIDDAY

The sound of students repeating after the teacher filled the room. Marin Morell, the French teacher, stood at the front, her voice calm and composed as she led the lesson.

"Où allez-vous?" Marin asked, her eyes scanning the class.

The students echoed her. "Où allez-vous?"

"Je vais chez moi," Marin continued, emphasizing the pronunciation.

The class repeated, though some voices were more enthusiastic than others. "Je vais chez moi."

Marin's gaze shifted to Allison, who was seated near the back, her mind clearly elsewhere. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her notebook, and her eyes were unfocused, staring off into space. Marin's eyes narrowed slightly, her professional patience barely hiding her curiosity. She switched to French, addressing Allison directly.

"Mademoiselle? Mademoiselle Argent?"

Allison blinked, snapping out of her daze at the sound of her name. Her face flushed slightly as the attention of the entire class shifted toward her.

"Es-tu fatiguée?" Marin asked, her tone feigning concern, though her eyes betrayed an undercurrent of something sharper.

Allison shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to ignore the sudden scrutiny. "Sorry," she mumbled, her French accent nowhere near as polished as Marin's.

Marin offered a tight smile, but her eyes remained locked on Allison. "You're starting to concern me, Allison. Maybe we should chat in the guidance office sometime." Her tone carried a hint of something more than concern—there was a layer of suspicion, as if she knew there was more going on with Allison than what met the eye.

Allison's fingers tightened around her pen as she stared back, her heart pounding faster. The memory of the bank flashed in her mind. Her pulse quickened, and without thinking, she shot back, "Or maybe you should tell me what you were doing at the bank the other night."

The class went silent. Marin's smile never wavered, but her expression grew colder. She raised an eyebrow, the tension between them palpable.

"Maybe you should tell me what you were doing there," Marin countered, her voice smooth but carrying an edge.

Allison swallowed, realizing she might've just pushed too far. Marin didn't look away, her eyes pinning Allison in place.

The classroom air grew thick with unspoken tension, the other students clearly sensing that this wasn't just a casual exchange. Marin glanced around, catching the stares of the others, and her smile returned—polite, controlled.

"It looks like we have a situation here," Marin said lightly, her voice shifting back to that of a patient teacher. "Tell you what—give me the French word for it that's the same in English, and you can avoid lunchtime detention."

Allison hesitated, her mind blanking for a moment before she stammered, "Umm…"

Marin's smile widened slightly. "Impasse," she said smoothly.

The bell rang, ending the class, and the students immediately began gathering their things. But as Allison stood to leave, she felt Marin's eyes still on her, like a warning.

Allison quickly slipped out of the room, her heart racing. Whatever game Marin was playing, it was clear they were both keeping dangerous secrets.

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL - CLASSROOM - MIDDAY

The classroom buzzed with the typical half-hearted attention that students gave to Mr. Harris, the physics teacher. Blake sat in the back, his eyes wandering between the clock on the wall and Scott, who seemed unusually tense. The lesson on "momentum" wasn't exactly holding his interest, but something about the air in the room felt off. He could sense it—Scott and Isaac's body language screamed trouble.

"All right, since inertia is a subject of which you all know plenty," Harris said, his voice dripping with condescension, "why don't we start with 'momentum?'"

Blake glanced at Isaac, who was muttering something to Scott under his breath. He couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, but he could tell Isaac was keyed up, his body practically vibrating with tension.

"They're here for a reason," Isaac mumbled, his eyes flicking toward the door.

Scott leaned in, trying to calm him down. "Give me a chance to figure it out before you do anything. Okay?"

Isaac didn't respond immediately, but Blake could see the strain in his expression. Isaac wasn't exactly known for his patience. Blake shifted in his seat, trying to keep a low profile, but it was clear that whatever was about to happen, Isaac was at the center of it.

Harris continued his lecture, oblivious to the building tension in the room. "Danny, what do we know about momentum?"

Danny responded, a little too enthusiastically. "It's the product of mass and velocity. The more massive something is, the faster it's going."

Blake glanced over at Isaac again, who was fidgeting, clearly desperate to leave. "Mr. Harris," Isaac spoke up suddenly, "can I use the bathroom, please?"

Scott's head whipped toward Isaac. "I have to go to the bathroom too," Scott added quickly, trying to get ahead of whatever Isaac was planning.

Harris, looking thoroughly unimpressed, raised an eyebrow. "One at a time," he said flatly.

"But, I really have to go," Scott insisted, his voice rising in urgency. "Like, medical-emergency-have-to-go."

Blake watched the exchange with quiet amusement, knowing Scott wasn't fooling anyone. Harris, however, was in no mood to entertain the excuse. "Mr. McCall, if your bladder suddenly exploded and urine began pouring from every orifice, I would still respond, 'One at a time.'"

Scott looked utterly defeated. "Uhhh…"

Harris didn't let up, clearly enjoying the power trip. "Is that enough hyperbole for you, or would you like me to come up with something more vivid?"

Scott sighed in frustration. "No… No, that's pretty good…"

Blake chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. Scott really needed to work on his poker face.

As Harris turned his back to continue the lesson, Blake's sharp senses picked up a shift in the atmosphere. Ethan walked back into the classroom, his steps slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on Isaac. Something was about to go down. Blake tensed, ready to act if necessary, though he kept his calm exterior.

Suddenly, Ethan let out a groan, staggering into the middle of the classroom, clutching his side as if in pain. "Ugh... he just... he just came at me!"

The room fell silent. Harris whipped around, his face a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "What is this? What's going on?"

Danny jumped from his seat, rushing to Ethan's side. "You all right?"

Ethan winced dramatically, playing the victim to perfection.

Blake stood up, his jaw tightening. He knew this was a setup—everything about Ethan's act screamed fake. Isaac, though rattled, looked too confused to have actually done anything. Blake shot a quick glance at Scott, who was already on edge.

Harris, looking both angry and confused, stormed over to Isaac. "Isaac, what the hell did you do?" he demanded.

Isaac, still standing near his desk, shook his head vehemently. "I didn't do anything! He's lying!"

Blake stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Mr. Harris, that's not what happened. Isaac hasn't moved from his spot since you turned around." He made sure to lock eyes with Ethan, his posture exuding confidence. He wasn't going to let Isaac take the fall for something he clearly didn't do.

Ethan, still clutching his side, tried to maintain his pained expression, but Blake's steady gaze was unsettling. The twins weren't used to being challenged, especially not like this. Blake's calm dominance was something they hadn't expected.

Harris, however, was too caught up in the moment to notice the subtle dynamics between the students. "I don't care what happened!" he snapped. "Isaac, to the principal's office—now!"

Isaac, frustrated and clearly ready to snap, opened his mouth to argue, but Blake cut in smoothly. "Come on, man. Let's just go," he said, placing a hand on Isaac's shoulder. "We'll sort this out later."

Isaac hesitated, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, but Blake's steady presence calmed him. Reluctantly, he nodded, allowing Blake to guide him toward the door.

Scott watched them leave, worry etched on his face. He wanted to help, but there was no way out of this situation without drawing more attention to the supernatural dynamics at play. He had to let Blake handle it for now.

As they exited the classroom, Blake leaned closer to Isaac. "Stay calm," he said in a low voice. "This isn't over. They're trying to get a reaction out of you. Don't give it to them."

Isaac nodded, still tense but clearly trying to hold it together. "Why are they doing this? Why go after me?"

"They're Alphas," Blake said simply. "They want to break you."

Isaac clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. "They're gonna regret it."

Blake smirked, his blue eyes flashing briefly with a hint of red as they turned a corner out of sight. "They already do."

As they walked toward the principal's office, Blake's thoughts briefly drifted back to the growing tension between him and the Alpha pack. This wasn't just about dominance anymore—something bigger was at play. The question was, how long until everything came to a head?

Blake had a feeling that when it did, he'd be ready.

DEREK'S LOFT – MIDDAY

The loft was dimly lit, Derek's breath coming in slow, ragged gasps as he lay on the cold concrete floor. His muscles throbbed from Kali's vicious assault, her smirk still lingering in his mind as she stood over him moments ago, satisfied with her handiwork. Derek pushed himself up on his elbows, the metallic taste of blood lingering in his mouth.

Across the room, Deucalion stood in eerie stillness, his head slightly tilted as if sensing the space around him, despite his blindness. Kali hovered nearby, arms crossed, waiting for further orders. Cora lay slumped in the corner, barely conscious, bruised but alive.

Deucalion stepped closer, his polished shoes making soft thuds against the floor. "I'm sorry about this, Derek," he said in a voice too casual for the situation. "I asked Kali to be gentle, but..." He gave a small chuckle. "This is her version of gentle."

Kali grinned, a predator in every sense of the word. "He should be thankful I'm in a good mood," she added with a shrug.

Derek gritted his teeth, pushing against the overwhelming pain. "Let... her go," he rasped, his eyes flickering toward Cora, still weak but alert enough to glare at Kali with defiance.

Deucalion didn't move. "No." He sounded almost amused, as if Derek's request were a mild inconvenience.

Derek managed to rise to one knee, his body trembling with the effort. "What do you want?" His voice was raw, both from the pain and the anger building in his chest. "You here to kill me?"

Deucalion let out a soft, disappointed sigh. "You wound me, Derek. You really think I'm that boring?" He crouched down, lowering his voice, his tone sharpening. "Murder is such a simple game. I'm here for something far more intriguing."

Derek glared up at him, his breathing heavy. Deucalion was always playing his games, always working some angle, but Derek wasn't going to let him have the upper hand, no matter how beaten down he was.

Deucalion stood again, pacing slowly as if considering his next words carefully. "You see, Derek, I've been hearing things about Beacon Hills. About a new Alpha. Young, strong, capable... and independent." He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Someone who isn't under your control."

Derek stiffened, feeling the weight of Deucalion's words. His mind immediately went to Blake—the new Alpha who had recently shown up. They had only crossed paths once during the search for Boyd and Cora, but now it was clear Deucalion had his sights set on him.

"What are you talking about?" Derek asked, keeping his voice steady despite the tension building inside him.

Deucalion chuckled, his tone patronizing. "Don't play dumb, Derek. We both know exactly who I'm talking about. There's a new player on the board, and I'd like to know who he is."

Derek's jaw clenched. His Alpha pride refused to let him back down, even though Blake wasn't his pack, and they barely knew each other. Giving Deucalion any information would only serve to strengthen his twisted plans.

"He's got nothing to do with you," Derek said firmly, pushing himself fully to his feet now, though his legs trembled under the strain. "Stay out of it."

Kali's smile widened, sensing Derek's defiance. "You're protecting him," she said mockingly. "Interesting..."

"I'm not protecting anyone," Derek shot back, glaring at her. "But you're not touching him."

Deucalion's expression hardened. "You think you can keep him out of this, Derek? Every Alpha has their place in the world, and sooner or later, he'll have to choose. He either joins me, or he'll be crushed like the rest."

Derek's gaze didn't waver. "You're not as powerful as you think you are," he spat. "Not everyone's afraid of you."

Deucalion chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver through the room. "We'll see," he said softly. "But don't be so sure, Derek. You've already lost too much to gamble with something you can't control."

Kali took a step closer to Derek, her eyes glinting with malice. "We'll find him eventually," she whispered. "It's only a matter of time."

Derek's fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his muscles tightening with every word they spoke. He wasn't about to give them anything on Blake, but he also knew they wouldn't stop until they had what they wanted. It was a dangerous game, and Blake, whether he knew it or not, had just become a target.

"You'll never get him," Derek said, his voice low, but filled with determination.

Deucalion smiled again, satisfied with the response. "We'll see," he murmured

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL – LUNCHTIME

Blake strolled through the crowded halls, heading towards the outdoor lunch area, where most of the students had gathered. His tall frame and natural confidence made it easy for him to stand out. But today, something else caught his attention: Lydia Martin, seated at a table, flipping through a textbook.

He grinned, deciding to make his move. "Studying hard, I see," Blake said as he approached, sitting down across from her without asking.

Lydia barely glanced up from her book, her green eyes still scanning the pages. "I have to, especially if I want to keep my GPA where it is," she replied, her voice cool but not entirely dismissive.

"Need any help?" Blake asked, leaning back with a slight smirk. "I might not have a genius IQ, but I'm pretty sure I can handle studying with you."

Lydia finally looked up, raising an eyebrow as she closed her book. "And what makes you think I need help?"

Blake chuckled, not missing a beat. "I didn't say you needed it. Just thought you might enjoy some company... Maybe a different kind of study partner."

Her lips curled into a teasing smile, clearly intrigued. "What makes you think I'm not way out of your league?"

Blake leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Oh, I know you are. But I've always been a fan of a challenge."

Lydia couldn't help but smile back, clearly entertained by his confidence. "Okay, Blake Grey. Let's say I accept this offer of company. How exactly do you plan to help me?"

Blake's grin widened, sensing her curiosity. "How about you quiz me on whatever's in that book, and if I can answer at least half the questions, you let me take you out for coffee afterward? Your treat, if I win."

Lydia leaned back, eyeing him for a long moment. There was something about his charm—confident yet slightly awkward—that made her pause. "And if you lose?"

Blake shrugged. "If I lose, I'll let you take all the credit for being the smartest person in this school. And I'll help you study without any complaints."

Lydia bit her lip, considering the offer. She could see through his playful act, but she liked it. There was something refreshing about Blake, something she didn't find often in Beacon Hills.

"Deal," she said, finally closing her book and sliding it over to him.

Blake smiled, picking up the book. "Get ready to be impressed."

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL – LOCKER ROOM

Across school, Scott and Isaac were getting ready for the afternoon practice, pulling their jerseys over their heads.

"You really shouldn't let them get to you, man," Scott said, his voice calm but firm. "It's not worth it."

Isaac grumbled, zipping up his jacket. "I know, but it's not just me they're messing with."

Scott looked over at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

Isaac hesitated for a second before speaking. "You and me, they're pushing our buttons, and they know it. But Blake? He's different. He doesn't let it get to him like we do. It's like... he's already figured out how to handle all of this."

Scott nodded thoughtfully, considering Isaac's words. "Yeah, I've noticed. Blake's... easy to be around, you know? Strong but not in your face about it."

Isaac scoffed lightly. "That's what I mean. It's like, he's got all this power but doesn't feel the need to show it off."

Scott smiled at that. "Yeah, and he doesn't judge. He's not out to prove anything. It's... kinda nice."

Isaac glanced at Scott, nodding in agreement. "Yeah. It's like... having him around makes things less... tense. Like we're more of a team now."

Scott smiled at that, adjusting his bag. "Exactly. It's been a while since we had someone like that."

Isaac's expression softened. "Think he'll stick around?"

Scott chuckled. "I hope so. Blake's good to have on our side. I'm glad he's here."

As they exited the locker room and headed toward the field, the growing bond between them and Blake was clear. Despite all the chaos in Beacon Hills, there was a sense that Blake was becoming an integral part of their small but resilient group.

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL – POLICE INTERVIEW ROOM

The room was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the bright hallway outside where people moved in and out of offices. Ashley sat in the small interview room, her face red and puffy from crying, her hands shaking as she held a tissue. She had been through enough, and now she was sitting across from Stiles, who nervously fidgeted with his hands, unsure of how to even begin.

"Um, hi, Ashley," Stiles began awkwardly, sitting across from her. His heart raced, knowing the question he was about to ask was far from tactful, but necessary. "Can I talk to you for just one sec?"

Ashley blinked, her red-rimmed eyes barely focusing on him. "Sure..." she muttered, her voice shaky.

Stiles swallowed hard, scratching the back of his head as he gathered the courage to continue. "Sorry, I just need to ask you something really quick, and it's gonna sound... unbelievably insensitive, so I apologize in advance."

Ashley's brow furrowed in confusion, still trying to process everything that had happened in the past few hours.

Stiles took a deep breath, his voice barely a whisper. "Was Kyle... a virgin?"

Ashley blinked, the question hitting her like a slap. "What?" she asked, her voice rising in confusion and anger.

"Your boyfriend—was he a virgin?" Stiles pressed, wincing slightly at how blunt he sounded. "Or did you guys... you know what I mean?"

Ashley's face flushed with anger and disbelief. "No," she snapped, her voice cracking. "He wasn't a virgin."

Before Stiles could respond, the door opened, and Sheriff Stilinski stepped in, his face a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "Have you completely lost your mind?" he barked, storming toward his son.

Stiles quickly stood up, hands raised defensively. "Dad, wait—"

"No," the Sheriff cut him off, his voice low and angry. "I've got four murders, Stiles. Four. And you're in here asking this girl—who just lost her boyfriend—if he was a virgin?" He gestured toward the door, where several agents in dark suits were talking quietly among themselves. "Do you see those men in there? That's the FBI. They're pulling together a task force because it looks like we've got a full-blown serial killer on our hands. Do you get that?"

Stiles' face fell, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "Yes, Dad. I get that."

"Then what are you doing?" Stilinski asked, his voice softer now, but still filled with frustration.

Stiles let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. "I'm trying to find a pattern. I know it sounds crazy, but there's something bigger going on here. I just… I need to figure it out."

Sheriff Stilinski sighed heavily, the anger in his eyes softening as he looked at his son. "Stiles, I know you want to help... but this isn't a game. People are dying."

"I know," Stiles whispered, his voice strained. "But this... this isn't just some random killer, Dad. There's more to this."

Stilinski studied Stiles for a moment, the conflict in his eyes clear. He wanted to protect his son, to keep him out of the mess that had engulfed Beacon Hills. But deep down, he knew Stiles wasn't going to stop.

"Alright," Stilinski finally said, his voice resigned. "But you need to be careful. You're not a cop, Stiles. Don't act like one."

Stiles nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I will, Dad. I promise."

Sheriff Stilinski gave him one last look before turning to leave, the weight of the investigation clearly taking its toll.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Stiles took a deep breath, glancing back at Ashley, who looked even more shaken now. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I had to ask."

Ashley nodded slowly, still not understanding why, but too exhausted to argue.

Stiles stood there for a moment, his mind spinning with possibilities. Kyle wasn't a virgin. That didn't fit the pattern. So, what was going on? He needed to find out before more bodies showed up.

DEREK'S LOFT - AFTERNOON

The air was thick with tension as Kali's boot pressed down harder on Derek's chest, her eyes cold and remorseless. Cora, chained to the wall, watched helplessly, her heart racing with fear for her brother.

"You're killing him!" Cora's voice cracked, desperation clear in her tone.

Kali barely spared her a glance. "Not yet, little sister," she said, her voice laced with cruel amusement. "But I could." She pressed down slightly harder, making Derek groan in pain. "Who knows if it's five minutes or five hours before it's too late to take this thing out?" Kali nudged the shard of glass embedded in Derek's side, twisting it just enough to send another wave of agony through him. "But, just to be safe, Deuc, you might want to get to the point."

Deucalion, standing a few feet away, smirked as he took in the scene. "Ah, the one problem with being in an Alpha Pack—everyone wants to make decisions." His tone was conversational, almost casual, but the danger in his voice was unmistakable.

He turned his attention to Derek, a dark smile curling on his lips. "I'm more about discovering new talents… Like you."

Derek, struggling to breathe under Kali's boot, managed to rasp out, "Not interested."

Deucalion's smirk deepened. "But you haven't even heard my pitch."

Derek, wincing in pain, spat out his response. "You want me to kill my own pack."

Deucalion tilted his head, his expression softening into something almost like pity. "No, Derek," he said, his voice smooth. "I want you to kill one of them. Just one." His blind eyes seemed to pierce through Derek's resolve. "Do that, and I won't have to ask you to kill the others—you'll do it on your own."

Derek's breath came in shallow gasps as he tried to push back against the pain, against the weight of Deucalion's words. His mind raced, but Deucalion didn't give him time to recover.

"I did it. Ennis did. Kali did." Deucalion gestured toward the Alphas surrounding him. "Tell him what it's like, Kali."

Kali grinned wickedly, her eyes gleaming. "Liberating," she purred, her voice dripping with malice.

Deucalion took a step closer to Derek, his smile fading slightly as his tone grew more serious. "Do you really want to stay beholden to a couple of maladjusted teenagers, Derek? Bound to become a liability?"

Derek's eyes flickered with anger, but he said nothing. His mind was racing, trying to hold on to the resolve he'd built. His pack, his responsibility—they meant more to him than anything. But Deucalion's words cut deep.

"They will become a liability," Deucalion continued, his voice low and dangerous. "In fact… I have a feeling one of them is getting himself into trouble right now."

Derek's heart clenched at the implication, his protective instincts kicking in. But he knew better than to give Deucalion the satisfaction of showing any fear.

"You can't control me," Derek growled, though his voice was weak from pain. "You won't make me turn on them."

Deucalion smiled faintly, almost sympathetically. "It's not about control, Derek. It's about survival. And they're holding you back from becoming what you're truly meant to be."

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL - HALLWAY

Blake's footsteps echoed down the hallway as he made his way toward the janitor's closet. The sense of something off hit him the moment he neared the door—Isaac's panicked muttering, Allison's voice trying to calm him, and the unmistakable tension of a situation spiraling out of control.

"Come on... Come on..." Isaac's voice was barely human, his breathing ragged, the sound of claws scratching against the door loud in the quiet hallway.

Blake turned the corner just in time to see Isaac, fully transformed, his golden eyes glowing with feral intensity, pinning Allison against the door as he struggled to break free. Allison's face was pale, fear etched in every line as she tried to calm him down.

"Isaac!" Blake's voice boomed, but Isaac didn't hear him. He was too far gone, his wolf instincts taking over completely.

Without hesitating, Blake acted. His eyes flashed red—Alpha red—and his roar filled the room, vibrating through the walls. The powerful sound ripped through Isaac's senses, forcing him to freeze, his body locking up as the overwhelming urge to submit to the Alpha took over.

Isaac's growl choked off in his throat, his glowing eyes fading as he slowly sank to his knees in front of Blake, his body trembling under the weight of the Alpha's dominance. His breathing slowed, the tension draining from his muscles as submission washed over him.

Blake's red eyes faded back to blue, and he stepped forward, placing a hand on Isaac's shoulder. "You're okay, man. Just breathe," he said, his voice soft now, the command gone but the reassurance strong.

Isaac, still panting, nodded weakly, his eyes cast downward, unable to meet Blake's gaze. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..."

Blake squeezed Isaac's shoulder before releasing him. "I know," he said simply, helping him to his feet. Isaac muttered another apology before turning and walking away down the hallway, still shaken but no longer out of control.

Blake turned his attention to Allison, who was leaning against the door, still catching her breath. Without thinking, he stepped closer, his hand naturally finding her waist to steady her. "You okay?" he asked, his voice soft but steady.

Allison nodded, though her eyes were wide, still processing what had just happened. "Yeah... I think so," she whispered, but her voice trembled slightly, and Blake could feel the rapid beat of her pulse under his hand.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Blake's hand remained firm on her waist, holding her close. He hadn't even realized how intimately he was touching her until her eyes flickered down to where his fingers rested, her breath hitching slightly.

"Blake," she said softly, her voice barely audible, but she didn't pull away. The tension between them thickened, and the air seemed to crackle with something more than just the aftermath of what had happened with Isaac.

Blake blinked, suddenly aware of the closeness between them. He quickly pulled his hand away, rubbing the back of his neck in a rare moment of awkwardness. "Sorry... I didn't mean to... hold you like that," he muttered, feeling his cheeks heat slightly.

Allison managed a small smile, still a little shaky but clearly grateful. "It's okay," she said, her voice soft but sincere. "Thanks... for stepping in."

Blake nodded, his heart still racing from the intense moment they had just shared. "Anytime," he said, his voice calm, though inside, he could still feel the weight of what had just passed between them.

They stood there in silence for a beat longer, the charged air between them refusing to dissipate. Finally, Allison straightened up, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "We should probably... get back," she said, her voice more steady now, though the tension still lingered.

Blake nodded, falling into step beside her as they walked down the hallway together. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something between them had shifted—something subtle, but undeniable.

As they reached the main part of the school, Blake glanced at Allison again, his thoughts racing. He had stepped in to save her from Isaac, but somehow, the moment had turned into something more, and Blake wasn't sure what to make of it.

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL - ART CLASS

Lydia sat at her desk, flipping through her drawings while Stiles leaned over her shoulder, his voice rambling in that familiar, frantic way. His arms flailed as he emphasized every bizarre fact he could think of, his eyes wide and full of a manic kind of determination.

"You know there's a temple in Calcutta where they used to sacrifice a child every day?" Stiles began, his words rushing out before Lydia could even glance up. "That's every day a dead baby, Lydia—every day! Do you want to know what today is? It's Dead Baby Day. Oh, wait, that's every day, because every day is Dead Baby Day, yay!"

Lydia glanced at him, clearly unimpressed. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked with an exasperated sigh.

Stiles leaned in closer, lowering his voice like he was delivering a grand revelation. "Because Scott's dealing with the Alpha twins."

Lydia's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of concern crossing her features. "Alphas?" she asked, trying to mask her shock.

"Ethan and Aiden," Stiles explained, clearly expecting her to be in the loop.

Lydia quickly nodded, lying through her teeth. "Oh, yeah. I knew about them."

Stiles didn't miss a beat, launching into his theory. "Good. So, look, here's what I'm thinking—maybe the murders come in threes. Ancient people love things in threes, right? So, maybe first it's three virgins, and then, I don't know... Maybe it's three people who own little dogs?"

Lydia raised an eyebrow, her patience wearing thin. "I own a little dog."

Stiles perked up, leaning closer. "You should probably get rid of your dog."

Lydia rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "I'm not getting rid of my dog."

Stiles sighed, exasperated. "Would you just think about getting rid of your little dog?"

"No!" Lydia shot back. "And, by the way, you can't discern a pattern from a single data point. Stop trying."

Stiles blinked, clearly taken aback. "So, what? I'm just supposed to wait around for someone else to die? Just watch them die in front of me?"

"Maybe it's not your job to figure this out," Lydia said softly, her tone more serious now.

Stiles frowned, his frustration building. "You said it yourself—strangled with a garrote. That's a human thing to do, so... maybe just leave the figuring-it-out part to someone human."

"You mean, like my dad?" Stiles asked, the realization dawning.

Lydia smirked slightly, nodding. "No... I mean, your dad. The sheriff."

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL - OUTSIDE, MOTORCYCLE AREA

The school parking lot buzzed with students heading in and out, but Blake and Allison stood near the back, out of the way. A sleek, black motorcycle belonging to one of the Alpha twins gleamed in the sunlight. Blake eyed it with a mixture of interest and challenge.

"You know how to ride one of these?" Allison asked, her eyes narrowing playfully as she leaned against the bike.

Blake chuckled, leaning down slightly to meet her gaze. "You're underestimating me," he said, his voice carrying a teasing edge. "I've ridden my fair share of bikes. I think I can handle this."

Allison smirked, crossing her arms as she gave him a once-over. "Oh really? Let's see it, then."

Blake raised an eyebrow, catching the challenge in her tone. Without breaking eye contact, he swung a leg over the bike, settling comfortably into the seat. He gripped the handlebars confidently, looking at Allison with a daring grin. "I'm telling you, this isn't my first rodeo."

Allison stepped closer, her hand brushing against his arm as she adjusted his grip on the clutch. The casual touch sent a spark between them, both of them momentarily caught in the proximity. She let out a light laugh, clearly enjoying the moment. "Well, let's see how good you really are."

Blake's grin widened as he revved the engine, the powerful hum filling the air. He leaned slightly toward Allison, his voice dropping just a bit. "Watch closely, Argent. You might want to take notes."

With that, Blake eased the bike into gear, smoothly taking off and heading toward the school entrance. He shot a glance over his shoulder, catching Allison's amused smile before disappearing into the hallway.

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL – ENGLISH CLASSROOM

The classroom was buzzing with idle chatter, but Scott was focused on one thing: provoking the Alpha twins. He pulled out the small piece of the motorcycle he had taken earlier and held it up, letting the metallic object gleam under the classroom lights.

Aiden and Ethan were across the room, their eyes narrowing as they saw what Scott was holding.

"That looks kind of important," Scott said, feigning innocence as he turned the piece in his hand.

Aiden, his temper barely in check, growled low in his throat. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Scott grinned, enjoying the moment. "No idea what this thing does," he continued, his voice casual, as if he hadn't just antagonized one of the most dangerous guys in the school.

Aiden shot out of his seat, his chair screeching across the floor without another word, Aiden stormed out of the classroom, fury written all over his face as he shoved the door open.

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL – HALLWAY

Blake sat on the motorcycle in the empty hallway, his back straight and his hands resting casually on the handlebars. The engine purred beneath him, and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He knew what was coming.

The door at the end of the hallway slammed open, and Aiden came storming out, eyes blazing with rage as he spotted Blake on his bike. Blake, unbothered, met his glare with a calm, almost amused expression.

"Get off my bike!" Aiden snarled, storming toward him.

Blake didn't move for a beat, letting Aiden's anger simmer as he remained perched on the bike. Then, just as Aiden reached him, Blake stood, swinging his leg over the bike in one smooth, controlled motion. His feet hit the ground with a solid thud, and he turned to face Aiden with a cool, unfazed smile.

"Take it easy," Blake said, holding his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender, but the confidence in his voice made it clear he was in control of the situation.

As Aiden reached the bike, the hallway suddenly came alive with the sound of doors opening. The students, drawn out by the sound of the motorcycle's engine, began spilling into the hallway. Blake took a step back, casually slipping into the growing crowd. With his tall, muscular frame, it should've been impossible for him to blend in, but he moved so effortlessly that he was almost invisible in the sea of students.

Aiden stood frozen by the bike, his eyes scanning the crowd for Blake, but he was gone. The only evidence left was the rumbling motorcycle, and Aiden standing there like the guilty party.

As the commotion continued, Jennifer Blake, the English teacher, stepped out of the classroom. She looked at Aiden standing with the motorcycle in the middle of the hallway, and her eyes widened in disbelief.

"Aiden," she said, her voice dripping with exasperation, "you've got to be kidding me. You realize this is going to result in a suspension, right?"

Aiden's jaw clenched, but he had no way to explain himself without making it worse. He shot a furious glance around, knowing Blake was somewhere watching, but there was nothing he could do.

As Jennifer turned back toward the classroom, Blake lingered at the edge of the crowd, smirking to himself. His heart raced with the thrill of it all, but his face stayed calm, blending seamlessly with the other students.

BEACON HILLS ANIMAL CLINIC

Deaton glanced up from the paperwork he was sifting through as the door to the clinic opened, and Stiles stepped in. The faint scent of antiseptic filled the room, blending with the earthy smell of animals and the subtle hum of the clinic's machinery.

Deaton gave a calm smile, noting Stiles' sudden presence. "You're out of school early…"

"Yeah, just got out of art class," Stiles replied, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Turns out sketching bowls of fruit isn't exactly my thing. Free period now, so I figured I'd drop by."

Deaton nodded, though his expression remained neutral. "And you decided to spend your free period here? That's new."

"Yeah, well…" Stiles shifted, glancing around the clinic before turning back to Deaton. "I was just headed home to see my dad. He's, uh…" Stiles paused, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. "You know, I guess you probably heard people are kind of getting murdered again. It's his job to figure it out."

Deaton raised an eyebrow, his usual composed demeanor unwavering. "I gathered as much from the 'Sheriff' title."

Stiles gave a nervous chuckle, then scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, um… you know, it gets kind of hard for him to do his job when he doesn't have all the information. And we all know he's missing pretty much half the story here, right?"

Deaton didn't respond, but the slight twitch of his brow suggested he was fully aware of where this conversation was heading.

"So," Stiles continued, stepping further into the clinic, his gaze fixed on Deaton, "I started thinking. And I remembered someone else who does have a lot of information. Someone who always seems to know more than anyone else around here." Stiles stopped in front of the counter, leaning forward, eyes narrowing playfully but with intent.

"You."

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL

Lydia sat at the back of the room, her pencil gliding effortlessly across the paper. She wasn't drawing anything in particular—just abstract shapes and patterns that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside her. Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed Danny leaning over to look at her sketch.

"Wow. That's good," Danny said, sounding genuinely impressed.

Lydia didn't look up from her work, barely acknowledging his compliment with a faint nod. Her mind was elsewhere, distracted by thoughts she couldn't quite grasp. The buzz of the classroom felt distant, like white noise, until a student's voice cut through the quiet.

"Fifteen minutes!"

Lydia blinked, momentarily pulled from her thoughts. "What's that?"

Danny leaned back in his seat with a grin. "Fifteen-minute rule. Teacher didn't show up."

Lydia glanced around the room, noticing the empty teacher's desk for the first time. She didn't care, though. Her pencil returned to the paper, her hand moving on its own, as if trying to work through something she couldn't quite understand.

BEACON HILLS ANIMAL CLINIC

Stiles stood across from Deaton, shifting nervously from foot to foot. The clinic felt eerily quiet, and the weight of the recent murders hung in the air like a dark cloud. Stiles, however, was determined to get some answers.

"Okay, so all these symbols—the triskeles, the bank logo, the mountain ash—everything points to the Druids. And anyone who knows anything about Druids knows they were pretty into human sacrifices, right?" Stiles rambled, his words tumbling out quickly.

Deaton stood calmly, watching Stiles with an unreadable expression.

"You ever hear of the Lindow Man?" Stiles continued, pacing slightly. "Two-thousand-year-old body found in England. Strangled, head bashed in, throat cut—the classic three-fold death. And guess what else they found in his stomach?"

Deaton's expression remained calm, but he answered without hesitation. "Mistletoe."

Stiles threw his hands up in frustration. "Right! So, I'm just telling you stuff you already know. Why aren't you telling us this?"

Deaton sighed, glancing away for a moment as if weighing his next words carefully. "Maybe because when you've spent years trying to push something away—denying it, lying about it—it becomes a habit."

Stiles paused, his frustration simmering just below the surface. "So, this guy... the one behind all this—is he a Druid?"

"No," Deaton replied, his voice steady. "It's someone copying an ancient practice—a practice that the real Druids knew better than to follow. Do you know what 'Druid' means in Gaelic?"

Stiles shook his head, curiosity finally overriding his impatience.

"It means 'Wise Oak,'" Deaton explained. "The Druids were scholars and philosophers, deeply connected to nature. They believed in keeping the world in balance. They weren't killers."

Stiles absorbed this, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly, but not completely.

"So, what the hell is going on then?" Stiles muttered to himself.

Before Deaton could respond, Stiles' phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen and frowned, then answered quickly.

"Hey, I can't talk right now."

A voice came through the phone, sharp and worried. Lydia.

"Wait, what?" Stiles' eyes widened as he listened. "Are you sure he's missing?"

Lydia's voice crackled over the line, strained and anxious. "Not just missing—taken."

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL

Deaton handed the graded tests back to Stiles, who was visibly on edge. Lydia stood nearby, her eyes scanning the desks for any clue that might connect the missing student to the larger pattern they'd uncovered.

"Can we get a copy of this?" Deaton asked, his voice calm but urgent as he flipped through the papers.

Stiles, desperate for answers, looked toward Deaton for help. "Hey, Doc…? Any help would be, you know... helpful," he said, his voice rising with nervous energy.

Deaton looked up thoughtfully. "Each grouping of three would have its own purpose, its own type of power. Virgins, healers, philosophers, warriors..."

Stiles snapped to attention. "Wait, wait, wait, wait—warriors? Could that also be, like, a soldier?"

"Absolutely," Deaton replied.

"Kyle was in ROTC with Boyd. That's got to be it. That's the pattern," Stiles said, feeling the pieces fall into place. He pulled out his phone, starting to dial. "I'll try and get Boyd on the phone. He's probably home by now."

Just as he was about to press call, Lydia, who had been standing quietly, suddenly spoke up. "Deaton...? Something wrong?"

Deaton paused and looked at her. "No, it was... I mean, I just thought of someone else with a military connection."

Deaton's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

Lydia pointed toward the desk. "It's sitting right on his desk… the West Point honor code."

Stiles followed her gaze, his breath catching as he realized who she was talking about.

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL – HALLWAY AFTER LACROSSE PRACTICE

Scott and Isaac were making their way down the school hallway, fresh from lacrosse practice, still buzzing with the adrenaline of the field.

"Yeah, I wish I could've seen their faces. They looked seriously pissed," Isaac joked, a grin on his face.

Scott chuckled. "Yeah, definitely," he agreed, but then his smile faded as they turned a corner and nearly collided with someone.

It was Blake.

"Hey," Blake greeted, smirking slightly, casually slinging his bag over his shoulder. His tall, muscular frame stood out, his relaxed yet commanding presence making both Scott and Isaac pause.

Blake's sharp blue eyes scanned them briefly. He noticed the tension in their postures, but he didn't comment on it just yet. "Lacrosse practice go well?" he asked.

"Yeah," Scott replied, though his eyes flickered down the hallway ahead, where a sense of danger was creeping in.

Isaac noticed it too, his body stiffening. "Blake…," Isaac started, but his voice trailed off as he spotted them—Ethan and Aiden, the Alpha twins.

The twins stepped into view, their eyes locking onto the group, their expressions dark and aggressive. There was no mistaking their intent. They weren't here for a friendly chat.

Blake's gaze followed theirs, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of the twins. "Them again?" he muttered, his body instinctively shifting into a more alert stance.

Suddenly, the twins moved in perfect unison, merging into one monstrous, towering Alpha form. The shift was rapid, their combined strength surging through the air like an electric charge.

"RAWRRRRRRRRR!" Ethan and Aiden's unified roar echoed violently through the hallway, sending shivers down the spines of anyone nearby.

Scott and Isaac instinctively stepped back, the sheer force of the sound hitting them like a tidal wave.

"Are you kidding?" Scott muttered, wide-eyed. "Isaac, don't—"

Before Scott could finish, Blake stepped forward, his calm demeanor dropping as his eyes flickered from blue to a bright, burning red.

Blake didn't back down. Instead, he stood taller, squaring his shoulders. His Alpha status now fully on display as his eyes glowed fiercely. "RAWRRRRRRRRR!"

The sound of Blake's roar cut through the tension like a knife, powerful and controlled, but it carried an unmistakable command—a demand for respect. The air around him seemed to thicken with his dominance, and the hallway echoed with the raw, primal energy of his Alpha power.

Isaac immediately felt the overwhelming pull of Blake's dominance. His body tensed, but he couldn't resist the instinct to submit. Even Scott, though used to being the leader, could feel the weight of Blake's presence, his Alpha status undeniable in that moment.

The twins, however, felt it even more. Their merged form hesitated, the roar that had once filled the hallway now drowned out by Blake's unyielding presence.

Blake's red eyes locked onto theirs, and he took a step forward, his voice low and commanding. "You want to start something? Go ahead. But I promise you… this won't end well for you."

The twins growled in response, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in their massive form. Blake wasn't just another Alpha. He was something stronger, something more dangerous than they had anticipated.

Suddenly, a third roar echoed from further down the hallway. "RAWRRRRRRRRR!"

Scott's eyes widened. "Deucalion…"

The Demon Wolf emerged from the shadows, his presence even more chilling than the twins'. His blind eyes scanned the hallway, but it was clear—he had sensed it. Blake's display of dominance hadn't gone unnoticed.

Deucalion tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a small, amused smile. "So… there you are."

Blake's red eyes flickered back to blue as he relaxed his stance, though he remained fully aware of the new arrival. His calm, confident demeanor didn't waver, even as Deucalion approached.

The twins separated, their merged form breaking apart as they stepped back, clearly unsure of how to proceed now that their leader had arrived.

Deucalion stepped forward, his voice smooth but filled with a subtle menace. "I've been hearing whispers about a new Alpha in town," he said, his blind gaze focused in Blake's direction. "It's been quite a while since we've had someone with that kind of power here in Beacon Hills."

Blake didn't flinch, his expression remaining unreadable. "I'm not interested in whatever you're selling, Deucalion," he said flatly.

Deucalion's smile grew wider. "Oh, but I haven't made my offer yet."

Blake said nothing, his body still radiating dominance as he held his ground, while Scott and Isaac stood beside him, fully aware that this moment had shifted the dynamics of their fight. Deucalion now knew exactly who Blake was, and his interest was piqued.

Blake's display of Alpha power had drawn the attention of the most dangerous werewolf in Beacon Hills.

Deucalion's calculating eyes lingered on Blake for a moment, his lips curling into a small, unreadable smile. With a slight nod of acknowledgment, he turned to leave, his long coat sweeping behind him. The twins, still seething from the confrontation, followed closely, their footsteps heavy with restrained anger. As they disappeared down the hallway, the air seemed to lighten, but the sense of unease remained. Blake stood tall, watching them go, knowing that this encounter was only the beginning.

BEACON HILLS – LYDIA'S HOUSE – EVENING

Blake found himself standing outside Lydia Martin's house, the quiet evening air tinged with the same nervous energy he had felt since their growing connection began. He knew they had agreed to study, but there was something unspoken between them that had him buzzing with anticipation. He couldn't stop thinking about her, about the way she challenged him, and the sparks that flew whenever they were together.

The door opened before he even knocked, and there was Lydia, leaning against the doorframe, her fiery hair loose around her shoulders. She wore a casual outfit—a snug sweater and jeans—but still managed to look effortlessly stunning.

"Come on in," Lydia said with a smirk, holding the door open wider. "We've got work to do, mister."

Blake chuckled, stepping inside. "Are we actually studying, or is this just another excuse to get me over here?"

Lydia closed the door behind him and tossed him a playful glance. "Maybe both," she teased, before nodding her head towards the staircase. "We're going up to my room. That way, we won't get disturbed."

Blake followed her upstairs, unable to keep his eyes from roaming over her as she ascended the steps. His heart thumped a little harder at the idea of being alone with Lydia, in her bedroom, no less. His mind wandered for a moment, thinking about the undeniable chemistry between them and wondering how far things might go tonight.

When they reached her room, Lydia pushed the door open, revealing a space that was both cozy and meticulously organized. A large bed sat against one wall, a few books scattered on the desk by the window. It felt... intimate.

Lydia casually plopped down on her bed, flipping open one of the textbooks she had left there. "Come on," she said, patting the space beside her. "Let's get started."

Blake sat down, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight. He reached for one of the books, but his focus wasn't on studying. It was on her. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the way her lips curved as she read the first sentence, completely oblivious to the effect she was having on him.

They tried to focus for a few minutes, but the air between them was thick with unspoken tension. Lydia, sensing Blake's lack of concentration, looked up from her book, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Not a fan of Shakespeare?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Blake grinned, his hand casually reaching out to graze her arm. "I'd say I'm more interested in what's sitting right next to me."

Lydia rolled her eyes but didn't move away from his touch. "You're impossible."

Blake's fingers trailed along her arm, his touch light but deliberate. "I try."

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the playfulness between them shifting into something more. Blake felt his pulse quicken as Lydia's gaze softened, her eyes darting down to his lips before meeting his again. She bit her lip, a small, nervous gesture that sent his mind racing.

"Blake," Lydia said, her voice lower now, "you know Stiles told me about the twins, right? How they're Alphas."

Blake tilted his head, intrigued. "Yeah? What about them?"

Lydia sighed, her expression becoming more serious. "They're dangerous. Stiles thinks they're up to something, and I... I just don't want you to get caught in the middle of whatever this is. You should be careful around them."

Blake's smirk grew, a flash of amusement crossing his face. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Lydia, I appreciate the concern, but... they're the least of my worries."

Lydia furrowed her brow, clearly confused. "What do you mean? They're Alphas. You should watch out."

Blake leaned back, his hand sliding up to her neck, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin just below her ear. He could feel her pulse quicken under his touch, and he reveled in the way she reacted to him.

"Lydia," he said, his voice thick with teasing confidence, "I'm an Alpha too."

Lydia blinked, clearly taken aback. "Wait... what?"

Blake grinned, enjoying the shock on her face. "Yeah. I'm an Alpha. They might think they're tough, but trust me—they're nothing compared to me."

Lydia's eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked like she didn't know whether to believe him or not. She studied his face, her mind clearly working to piece it all together. "But... you... I mean, I thought you were just... normal."

Blake chuckled softly, his fingers brushing against her cheek now, his gaze locked onto hers. "I'm far from normal, Lydia."

She let out a soft laugh, still trying to process what he had just revealed. "You've been keeping that from me this whole time?"

Blake's grin softened, his eyes flickering with something deeper. "Had to make sure you wouldn't freak out."

Lydia's lips curved into a smile, and she shook her head slightly. "You're unbelievable."

Blake leaned in even closer, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Maybe. But I'm also someone you can trust."

Lydia's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared into Blake's eyes. There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled her in even when she tried to keep her guard up.

"You're a lot more than I expected, Blake Grey," she whispered.

Blake didn't reply with words. Instead, he closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. Lydia melted into him, her hands sliding up to his chest as she deepened the kiss, her body responding to the heat between them.

Blake's hand slid down her back, pulling her closer as their kiss grew more intense, more urgent. Lydia's fingers tangled in his hair, and she let out a soft gasp when his lips trailed down to her neck, leaving a burning trail of sensation in their wake.

They both knew where this was headed. The teasing touches, the lingering gazes—they had been building up to this moment for days, maybe even weeks. Lydia tilted her head back slightly, giving him more access, her breath coming in shallow gasps as Blake's hands explored her body.

"Blake..." Lydia whispered, her voice a mix of desire and anticipation.

Blake pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. "You okay with this?"

Lydia nodded, her eyes dark with want. "More than okay."

Blake didn't need any more encouragement. He kissed her again, this time with more urgency, more need. Lydia responded just as eagerly, pulling him down with her as she lay back against the pillows, their bodies pressing together in perfect harmony.

They moved together with an easy, natural rhythm, both of them giving in to the tension that had been building for so long. Lydia's hands roamed over Blake's back, her touch sending shivers down his spine as they lost themselves in each other.

The room around them faded away, and all that was left was the two of them—two people who had been dancing around this moment for far too long.