The hunt was on.
At the McCall house, Scott McCall sat cross-legged on his bed, his focus entirely on the lacrosse stick in his hands. The leather pocket had been worn thin from countless games and practices. Tonight, he was determined to fix it. The rhythmic pull of the strings and the satisfying snap as they tightened was soothing, a welcome distraction from the ever-present weight of his asthma and his constant desire to prove himself on the field.
Setting the lacrosse stick aside, Scott pushed himself up and grabbed the pull-up bar mounted in his doorway. He gritted his teeth as he lifted his body, the muscles in his arms and back burning with effort. After a set of pull-ups, he headed to the bathroom, brushing his teeth as he mentally prepared for the first day back at school and the upcoming lacrosse season.
Then he heard it.
A faint noise, barely more than a whisper, drifted in from outside. Scott froze, his toothbrush still in his mouth. It wasn't unusual to hear animals near the Preserve, but this sound was different.
Grabbing a baseball bat from his room, Scott stepped out onto the wraparound porch. The cool night air nipped at his skin as he scanned the tree line.
"Hello?" he called, his voice steady despite the unease creeping into his chest.
Before he could investigate further, a loud "Boo!" startled him.
Scott spun around, the bat slipping from his grip as he let out a yelp. Stiles Stilinski was hanging upside down from the porch roof, his face split into a wide grin.
"Stiles!" Scott hissed, clutching his chest. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"Relax, buddy," Stiles said, flipping down and landing gracefully on the porch. "You looked like you could use some excitement."
Scott groaned, picking up his bat. "What are you even doing here?"
"Funny you should ask," Stiles replied, his tone suddenly serious. "You're not gonna believe this, but my dad and every cop in Beacon County are out in the woods right now."
"Why?"
"They're looking for a body," Stiles said matter-of-factly.
"A body?"
"Yep. Two joggers found half of a girl's body earlier tonight. And by half, I mean the top half. They're out there now, trying to find the rest of her."
Scott felt a chill run down his spine. "That's…horrible."
"It gets better," Stiles said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "We're gonna check it out."
"What?"
"Come on, Scott. When else are we gonna get a front-row seat to something like this?"
Scott hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to stay home. But Stiles' enthusiasm was contagious, and before he knew it, they were climbing into the Stilinski family's powder blue Jeep.
The drive to the Preserve was uneventful, the silence between them filled with the hum of the engine and the distant chirping of crickets. Stiles parked near the gated entrance, the Jeep blending into the shadows.
"This is a bad idea," Scott muttered as they slipped through the trees.
"That's what makes it fun," Stiles shot back.
The forest was alive with sound—the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of officers, and the occasional bark of a dog. The boys moved cautiously, their footsteps muffled by the soft earth.
Scott struggled to keep up, his chest tightening with every step.
"I don't know why I let you talk me into these things," he wheezed, pulling out his inhaler.
"Because you secretly love the adventure," Stiles replied, a grin tugging at his lips.
As they reached a ridge, Stiles froze. Below them, a line of officers and dogs combed through the trees, their flashlights cutting through the darkness.
"Jackpot," Stiles whispered, his excitement palpable.
"Stiles, wait!" Scott called as his friend darted toward the search area.
Scott tried to follow, but his asthma slowed him down. He stopped to take another puff from his inhaler, his frustration mounting.
Meanwhile, Stiles' enthusiasm got the better of him. In his attempt to stay out of sight, he ran straight into a deputy and his K-9 partner.
"Hey!" the officer barked, his flashlight shining directly in Stiles' face.
Before the deputy could say more, Sheriff Stilinski appeared, his face a mix of anger and disbelief.
"Stiles," he said, his tone sharp. "What are you doing here?"
"Uh, evening stroll?" Stiles offered, flashing an innocent smile.
The Sheriff wasn't buying it. "Where's Scott?"
"At home, resting up for school," Stiles lied.
The Sheriff shone his flashlight into the woods. "Scott! If you're out there, you'd better come out now!"
Scott, hiding behind a tree, held his breath. When no response came, the Sheriff grabbed Stiles by the collar and dragged him back toward the Jeep.
Meanwhile, Scott decided to retreat, but as he turned, a sound caught his attention.
A herd of deer burst through the trees, their eyes wide with panic. Scott dropped to the ground as the animals thundered past, the ground shaking beneath their hooves.
When the herd was gone, Scott sat up, his breathing shallow. He reached for his inhaler, but it was gone. Desperate, he used his phone's flashlight to search the ground.
The light passed over something pale. Scott froze, his heart pounding. He moved the beam back and saw it—the upper half of a girl's body, her entrails spilling out onto the leaves.
Scott staggered back, his stomach churning. His foot caught on a root, and he tumbled down a ravine.
At the bottom, he heard it—a low, guttural growl.
Scott turned, his flashlight revealing a massive wolf-like creature with glowing red eyes.
The creature lunged, knocking him to the ground. Scott screamed, his hands clawing at the beast as its teeth sank into his side.
Pain shot through him as he struggled to escape. In a last-ditch effort, he grabbed a nearby rock and struck the creature's head.
The beast growled but released him. Scott scrambled to his feet, his vision blurring as he ran blindly through the forest.
He burst onto a road, the headlights of an SUV blinding him. The vehicle swerved, missing him by inches.
Scott collapsed on the side of the road, his chest heaving. As darkness claimed him, he heard it—a howl that echoed through the night, chilling him to his core.
Everything faded to black.