The day felt ordinary—well, as ordinary as it could be in Beacon Hills. School was the usual mix of classes, gossip, and the ever-present tension that seemed to hang over the town like a storm cloud. But beneath the surface, something was shifting. I could feel it. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled every time I walked into a room, every time I stepped out of the house, and I couldn't shake the sensation that someone, or something, was watching me.
Scott didn't seem to notice. He was busy with his usual routine—homework, hanging out with Stiles, trying to keep things normal despite the chaos in town. But I couldn't ignore it. This feeling had been creeping up on me ever since the night at the Hale House, and it was getting stronger. Something was out there. Something dangerous.
We were walking home from school, the sun just beginning to dip behind the trees, casting long shadows across the street. Scott was talking about the upcoming lacrosse game, his voice light, but I wasn't listening. My mind was elsewhere—on the pull toward the woods, toward the dark place that called to me, and toward the strange sense of being watched.
"You listening?" Scott asked, nudging me with his elbow.
"Yeah," I muttered, my eyes scanning the area around us. There was no one else on the street. No cars, no people walking. Just the soft hum of the town settling into the evening. But the sensation was there. The feeling of eyes on me, boring into the back of my skull, cold and unrelenting.
I stopped walking for a moment, my breath catching in my throat. The feeling had intensified, like a presence just beyond the edge of my vision, lurking in the shadows.
"Everything okay?" Scott asked, turning to look at me. His brow furrowed with concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm fine," I said quickly, shaking off the uneasy feeling. "Just... I don't know. I feel like we're being followed."
Scott raised an eyebrow. "By who? There's no one here."
I scanned the street again. "I don't know. I can't explain it. But I swear someone's watching us."
Stiles, who had been walking slightly ahead of us, glanced back. "What's this about being watched?" he asked, his voice full of the usual mischief. But there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes as he stopped and turned to face us.
"Nothing," I said, but I couldn't stop the shiver that ran down my spine. "Just... a weird feeling."
"Well, there's your first problem," Stiles said, grinning. "You're listening to your gut. Gut feelings are overrated. You should listen to your brain instead. Like when I told you that one of these animal attacks was probably a mutant raccoon, right? Come on, man, there's no reason to be paranoid."
But I wasn't being paranoid. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach, that sense of being hunted. It wasn't just a feeling. It was real. And it wasn't going away.
As we continued walking, I couldn't help but glance over my shoulder every few steps. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but it didn't take long for me to notice it. The shadow moving at the edge of the trees, just beyond the streetlights. It was quick, almost too fast to see, but I caught a glimpse of something—a figure, tall and dark, darting between the trees.
My heart skipped a beat. "Did you see that?" I asked, my voice low, urgent.
Scott and Stiles both turned to look, but there was nothing there. Just the quiet, empty street.
"See what?" Scott asked, his eyes scanning the area. "There's nothing out there, man. You're imagining things."
But I knew what I saw. I could feel it now, the connection to whatever—whoever—was lurking in the shadows. I felt its presence like a weight on my chest. And the worst part was, I couldn't even explain it.
"You okay?" Stiles asked, stepping closer to me. "You look like you're about to pass out."
I shook my head. "I'm fine. Just—let's hurry home, alright?"
We picked up the pace, walking quickly, but the feeling of being followed didn't fade. In fact, it intensified with every step, until I could almost hear footsteps behind me, keeping pace, echoing in the quiet street. I resisted the urge to look back, but the temptation was almost unbearable.
When we reached our house, I bolted up the stairs to my room without another word, closing the door behind me with a soft click. I needed to be alone for a moment to process everything. To make sense of the feelings that were flooding me—the sense of danger, the feeling of being stalked by something powerful, something primal.
I tried to push the thoughts away, tried to focus on something else—school, my friends, anything—but the sensation was like a weight pressing down on me. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see shadows moving just beyond the edge of my vision. Every time I took a breath, it felt like the air was thicker, harder to inhale.
I opened the window, hoping for some fresh air, and gazed out into the woods. The trees stood tall and still in the fading light, but there was something different about them today. The shadows seemed longer, darker, as if they were stretching toward me. And for the briefest moment, I thought I saw something move—no, not something. Someone.
A figure standing just inside the tree line, watching me.
My breath caught in my throat, and I pulled back, heart racing. But when I peered out the window again, there was nothing there. Just the same old trees. The same quiet, empty woods.
I shook my head, trying to shake off the unease that had settled deep in my bones. I needed to calm down. It was just my imagination, right? Just the stress of everything happening in Beacon Hills.
But deep down, I knew the truth. It wasn't my imagination. The Alpha Werewolf was out there, watching us. And it wasn't going to stop until it had what it wanted.
And for reasons I didn't fully understand, that something was me.