The cafeteria buzzed with its usual lunchtime chatter as Scott, Allison, and Stiles sat at their table. Allison absently picked at her food while Stiles, ever the ball of energy, tried to engage her in conversation. Across from them sat Lydia, her usually vibrant demeanor replaced by a visible cloud of sadness.
Scott noticed and leaned closer to Allison, lowering his voice. "What's up with her?" he asked, gesturing subtly toward Lydia.
Allison sighed. "Jackson broke up with her. Through a text."
Scott's brow furrowed, his lips curling into a disgusted sneer. "What a coward. He couldn't even do it face to face?" Then Scott said. "Lydia is better off. She is way too smart for someone like Jackson."
Lydia, overhearing, snapped her head up and glared at Scott. "Mind your own business, McCall. Do I look like I need you to comfort me?"
Scott raised his hands in mock surrender, a smirk playing on his lips. "No, you definitely don't look like it. But I can feel it, Lydia. Your energy's all off, and it's bumming me out."
Lydia's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What did you just say?"
Scott shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing."
Before Lydia could retaliate, Scott turned his attention to Allison, who was engrossed in a thick book. "What're you reading, babe?"
Allison glanced up and smiled. "It's about La Bête du Gévaudan. After you told me that story the other day, I wanted to learn more."
Scott leaned closer to look at the book. "Where'd you find this?"
"Oh, it was in my dad's study," Allison replied casually.
Stiles, meanwhile, attempted to strike up a conversation with Lydia, only to be met with cold indifference. The awkward silence was broken when Scott suddenly laughed.
"What's so funny?" Allison asked, curious.
Scott shook his head. "Nothing. Come on, let's go. We've got guests to meet."
The trio bid Lydia goodbye, leaving her to her thoughts, and followed Scott out to the lacrosse field.
---
When they arrived, Derek and Peter Hale were already waiting. Derek stood stoically with his arms crossed, while Peter looked unusually uneasy.
Scott grinned widely, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. "Derek! Still alive, huh? But what's with the company?"
Derek snorted but didn't respond. Peter, however, shifted uncomfortably under Scott's gaze, a subtle shiver running through him.
Scott chuckled. "I see. If you can't beat them, join them, right?"
Allison, confused, pointed at Peter. "Who's that?"
Scott's grin widened. "That, babe, is Peter Hale."
Allison's eyes widened in recognition. She instinctively moved closer to Scott, her body tense with wariness.
"Peter?" Stiles piped up, his voice laced with disbelief. "The psycho Alpha running around killing people? That Peter?"
Scott smirked, his gaze locking onto Peter. "What are you doing here?"
Peter laughed nervously. "You said as long as I didn't touch your little huntress or anyone close to you, you wouldn't interfere with my revenge. I'm here for that."
Scott's expression hardened. "Explain."
Derek stepped forward. "Your chemistry teacher—Adrian Harris—was involved in the fire. He might know who's really responsible."
Scott nodded. "Fine. Interrogate him. He doesn't have class right now, so you'll find him in his classroom. But let me be crystal clear: I don't care what he did, but there will be no killing on school grounds. Got it?"
Peter nodded reluctantly. "Fine."
Scott's eyes glowed faintly. "And cover his eyes. We're coming with you."
---
Adrian Harris sat tied to a chair, his eyes covered, trembling with fear. Derek and Peter stood on either side of him, their presence menacing. Scott, Allison, and Stiles slipped into the classroom silently, keeping to the shadows.
"Please," Harris stammered, his voice quivering. "If you want money, I can get you money. Just don't kill me!"
Peter's hand shot out, slapping Harris across the face. "My surname is Hale."
Harris froze, terror washing over him.
Peter leaned closer, his voice cold and dangerous. "You recognize the name, don't you, Harris?"
"Please," Harris whimpered. "I didn't do anything. Please don't kill me."
Peter's laugh was chilling. "Tell me the truth, and maybe I won't kill you."
Harris gulped, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Six… six years ago, I met a woman at a bar. She asked me a lot of questions about chemistry—how to melt locks, dissolve bodies… start fires and get away with arson."
Peter's eyes darkened. "And you answered her questions?"
Harris nodded frantically. "I didn't think anything of it! I was so excited to talk to someone who actually seemed interested in chemistry after teaching bored and stupid students year after year! But a week later… the Hale House burned down."
Peter's claws extended slightly, grazing Harris's neck. "Her name. Do you know it?"
"I don't! I swear!" Harris cried. "But she had a pendant—a wolf pendant. A very distinct one. If you find the woman wearing it, you would find the arsonist."
Peter slapped him, his voice icy. "She's a murderer, not an arsonist, because arson happens to property, and what she did killed alot of people, including children."
Allison gasped, her body trembling as realization dawned. Scott quickly wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. Without a word, he led her and Stiles out of the classroom.
After Scott and his friends left, Peter untied Harris. "Draw the pendant for me. Every detail," Peter ordered, his voice cold and commanding.
Harris, his hands shaking violently, grabbed the pencil Peter handed him and began sketching. His strokes were uneven, his fear palpable. When he was done, he hesitantly handed the paper back to Peter.
Peter studied the drawing, his expression darkening. Without another word, he nodded to Derek. Derek's fist connected with Harris's temple, knocking him out cold.
The two walked silently to the lacrosse field, where Scott, Allison, and Stiles were waiting.
Peter handed Scott the drawing of the pendant. Scott studied it briefly before showing it to Allison and Stiles.
The moment Allison saw the pendant, her face went pale. Her hands trembled as she clutched Scott's arm, tears welling in her eyes. The realization hit her like a tidal wave, confirming what she had feared.
Scott's jaw tightened, and he handed the drawing back to Peter without a second glance. His tone was sharp. "You can leave now, Peter."
Peter's gaze shifted to Allison, who was visibly shaking. "Your little girlfriend doesn't look so good, Scott." he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of malice.
Scott didn't even look at him. Instead, he pulled Allison closer, his voice dropping to a low, menacing growl. "Derek, take your uncle and leave."
Peter, ignored the warning. "I know who the woman is, Scott. I had my suspicions before, but now I'm certain. She's Kate Argent. And I'm going after her, even if it kills me."
Scott's glowing red eyes turned to Peter, silencing him. His voice, cold and deadly. "Do whatever you want, Peter. But hear this: if you hurt Victoria or Chris, you'll wish you were dead. And Kate... she's not an easy prey."
Peter's arrogance flared, but before he could respond, Scott's patience snapped. In a blur of motion, Scott lunged forward, gripping Peter by the neck and hoisting him off the ground effortlessly.
Peter gasped, his bravado crumbling as Scott's claws dug into his flesh. Scott's voice was a dangerous whisper. "I'm not in the mood, Peter. Say one more word, and I'll make sure you don't walk out of here alive."
Peter's confidence evaporated, replaced by a raw, primal fear. Derek hesitated but stepped forward, cautiously. His voice was pleading. "Scott…"
Scott's glowing eyes shifted to Derek. After a tense pause, he released Peter, letting him fall to the ground with a thud.
Derek gave a small nod of gratitude. "Thank you." He grabbed Peter by the arm and dragged him away.
Peter stumbled but couldn't resist one final glance at Scott. He remembered that Scott wasn't just a high school kid; he was a force of nature—a monster in the truest sense.
As soon as they were gone, Allison broke down completely. She collapsed into Scott's arms, her tears were streaming down her face. Her sobs wracked her body, and Scott held her tightly.
Stiles stood nearby, watching the scene with a mixture of sadness and understanding. Quietly, he placed a hand on Scott's shoulder. "Take care of her, man."
Scott nodded.
As Stiles walked back toward the school, he spotted Jackson approaching from a distance. Jackson had seen everything that happened in the field—Scott lifting Peter like a chicken and his glowing red eyes that radiated danger. Despite the earlier warnings and the sheer terror he'd felt, Jackson's greed and longing to become a werewolf like Scott overrode his common sense.
'This time.' Jackson thought to himself, 'I'll offer him money and ask politely. That'll work.'
But before he could get close, Stiles stepped into his path, blocking him.
"Don't," Stiles said flatly, his voice carrying a rare seriousness. "If you value your life, don't bother them right now."
Jackson hesitated, his eyes darting back to the field where Scott held a trembling Allison in his arms. The memory of Scott's red glowing eyes and how effortlessly he had dominated Peter replayed in his mind.
His survival instincts kicked in. Gritting his teeth, Jackson nodded stiffly and turned away, muttering under his breath about "timing" and "next time."
Stiles shook his head and headed back toward the school, leaving Jackson to sulk in silence.
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