Chapter 56

“Wow.” Deaton said softly, crouched beside the table as he examined Derek’s still form. His tone made everyone’s heads snap up.

“‘Wow’?” Stiles repeated, eyebrows climbing. “Wow as in, ‘I’ve seen this before and I know exactly what to do’ kind of wow? Because that’s the kind we were hoping for.”

Deaton’s lips pulled tight as he glanced at him. “I think you might be overestimating my abilities, Stiles.”

Lydia sat on the other side of the table, Derek’s cold hand clasped in both of hers. Her expression was pale, strained. “He’s freezing. Really, really cold.”

Scott hovered near Silver’s head, his hand brushing against his boyfriend’s shoulder as if keeping contact alone might anchor him. His voice wavered, low and anxious. “Do you think this is permanent?”

Deaton hesitated, running his hand along the edges of the strange markings burned faintly into Derek’s skin. “I’m not sure a medical diagnosis is even adequate here. This is… far beyond my experience. Whatever Kate did, it isn’t something I can explain with science or healing. This is something else.”

Scott clenched his jaw. “Then what do we do? We can’t just—just leave him like this.”

“Until he wakes up,” Deaton said carefully, “there may not be much you can do. It might be best to leave him here. He’ll be safe within these walls.” His gaze flicked toward the door. “From Kate, especially. If she’s alive and she is what you all believe… she won’t be able to step foot past that gate.”

“Great,” Stiles muttered, crossing his arms. “Except why would she want to do this to him in the first place?”

“Knowing Kate,” Deaton replied, his tone grim, “there’s likely a reason, but it won’t be one that ends well for anyone but her.”

“And bad for everyone else,” Stiles tacked on automatically.

Deaton gave him the faintest nod before straightening. “You should all go home. He doesn’t appear to be in immediate danger, not right now. The best thing you can do is rest. It is a school night, and you need to take care of your own lives as much as possible.”

Scott immediately shook his head, his hand tightening on Silver’s shoulder. “No. Someone should stay. He shouldn’t be here alone.”

“I’ll stay,” Lydia said suddenly. The room turned toward her, but she met their eyes evenly. “My grades are fine. I’ve missed more important things than a night of sleep.” She lifted her chin as if daring anyone to argue.

Stiles groaned. “Yeah, no. No way. Absolutely not okay with this.”

“Text us if anything changes,” Scott said, ignoring Stiles and leaning closer to Silver as if reluctant to leave.

“Nope!” Stiles waved his arms dramatically. “Still not okay. Not going anywhere.” He barely had time to protest again before Scott hooked an arm around him, easily dragging him toward the door.

“All right, fine,” Stiles grumbled. “But only because you’re freakishly strong.”

Silver stirred faintly, a twitch at the corner of his mouth though his eyes never opened. “Hey,” he mumbled hoarsely, voice weak but determined. “I’d stay… but…”

Lydia squeezed his hand gently. “It’s okay. I get it.”

Silver’s lips curved in a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

💰

Silver lingered at the threshold of the apartment, his hand tight around the doorknob as he drew in a shaky breath. He pushed the door open quietly, letting it creak on its hinges. The place was dark, the only light flickering weakly from the TV screen in the living room. The air smelled faintly of stale beer and cold takeout.

“Dad? I’m home,” Silver called, his voice low but carrying. No answer. He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him, his footsteps muffled by the worn carpet.

The glow of the TV led him to the couch, where his father lay sprawled, a half-empty beer bottle balanced dangerously on the armrest. Argent was snoring lightly, face slack with exhaustion, the lines around his eyes deeper than Silver remembered. Empty bottles and discarded wrappers cluttered the coffee table and floor, signs of nights that blurred together.

Silver’s chest tightened. He reached toward the remote, ready to shut off the screen, but stopped at the sound of another snore. Slowly, he sighed, shoulders sinking, and turned away.

After a quick shower, Silver reemerged in his pajamas, a fresh bandage wrapped over his damaged eye. His damp hair clung to his forehead as he padded barefoot into the family room. He took in the mess again, the wreckage of his dad’s grief, and quietly began to clean.

He moved carefully, almost ritualistically—gathering empty bottles, stacking plates, tossing out half-eaten food. Some of it was his dad’s, some his own from the times he’d coaxed him into eating. Each piece of trash felt heavier than it should have, like it carried all the weight of everything they’d lost.

When he finally paused, the silence pressed down on him. Silver looked at his dad, asleep and vulnerable in a way that felt unfamiliar. Memories surfaced unbidden: his dad by his hospital bed, holding his hand when the pain was too much, refusing to leave even when the doctors told him to rest. He had always been there for Silver, even when it nearly broke him.

Now the roles had shifted. His dad had lost his wife, his daughter, and been left with a son who saw himself as broken, a reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

Silver didn’t realize his vision had blurred until he felt the warmth of tears streaking his cheeks. He bit his lip, trying to steady himself, but his father’s soft snore filled the room again, grounding him in the reality of their fragile, imperfect survival.

“Okay,” he whispered to no one in particular, as if saying it aloud would make it easier to carry.

He reached for the blanket draped over the armchair and carefully spread it across his dad, tucking it around him with a tenderness that surprised even himself. For a moment, he just stood there, shoulders trembling, struggling to hold himself upright.

The weight of everything—the grief, the responsibility, the love that hurt as much as it healed—pressed down until he couldn’t breathe. His throat burned, his vision swam, but he forced himself to keep moving. He pulled his phone from his pocket, the screen glowing in the dim light.

His thumb hovered over the contact list before pressing the one number that felt safe. His voice was raw when he finally spoke into the phone.

“Hey,” he whispered, barely holding himself together. “Can I stay over tonight?”

💰

Silver sat cross-legged on the edge of Scott’s bed, his phone in his hands but the screen dark, untouched. His hoodie sleeves were tugged over his hands, a small barrier against the weight pressing down on him.

Scott leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, watching him for a long moment before finally crossing the room. “You’ve been quiet since you got here,” he said softly, sitting down beside him.

“I’m fine,” Silver muttered, eyes fixed on the floor.

Scott tilted his head, not buying it for a second. “You don’t have to be fine with me. Not here.”

Silver shifted, shoulders tense, his jaw working like he was biting back words. “It’s just easier if I don’t talk about it.”

“Easier for who?” Scott asked, his voice still calm but steady. “

That made Silver finally look up. His good eye shone, rimmed with red, and for a second it seemed like he wanted to say something—but then he just shook his head, staring back down at his hands.

Scott didn’t push. Instead, he reached over, gently covering Silver’s sleeve-hidden fingers with his own. “You don’t have to tell me everything. Or anything. Just… let me be here. Let me take care of you tonight.”

Silver’s throat tightened. He nodded once, quickly, almost like he was embarrassed to let even that much slip.

Scott gave his hand a small squeeze, then leaned back against the headboard, pulling Silver with him. “Okay. Then we don’t talk,” Scott said softly, tucking him against his chest. “We just… stay.”

And slowly, with Scott’s heartbeat steady in his ear, Silver let himself lean in, letting the silence say everything he couldn’t.

Silver’s good eye flicked up at him — sharp, wet at the edges — and then suddenly he leaned forward, closing the space with a kiss that was anything but soft. It was needy, urgent, his hand clutching at Scott’s shirt like he’d drown without something solid to hold onto.

Scott stiffened for half a second, then melted into it, parting his lips, meeting Silver’s desperation with steady warmth. His hands slid into Silver’s hair, cradling his head, keeping him close. The kiss deepened, messy, wet, breaths coming sharp through their noses until it wasn’t enough and Silver broke away only to press back harder, harder.

Then Silver swung a leg over, settling into Scott’s lap. Scott’s hands caught his waist instinctively, steadying him, and Silver shivered at the touch. He pressed closer, grinding down just slightly, and Scott’s pulse jumped hard. Scott kissed down the line of his jaw, catching the edge of Silver’s throat between his teeth in a careful scrape that made Silver gasp.

“Scott,” Silver whispered, voice breaking with need. His fingers clutched in Scott’s hair, tugging him closer, and Scott’s hands slid beneath his hoodie this time, palms skimming the heated skin of his back. Silver arched into it, their mouths colliding again, all tongue and teeth and sharp exhales.

For one suspended moment, it was just them — raw, needy, lips swollen, breathless in the dark.

And then—

“Scott?”

Scott’s blood ran cold. His dad.

“Who was at the door just now?” Rafael called, footsteps heavy on the stairs.

Silver immediately scrambled off Scott’s lap, tugging his hoodie up to hide his face. His pulse was a wild staccato Scott could practically hear. Scott caught his wrist quickly, grounding him before the panic could take over.

Rafael McCall stood there, but his expression shifted immediately when he saw the boy standing beside his son. Silver’s bandaged eye, his trembling shoulders—it was impossible to miss.

“Silver?” Rafael said softly, surprise flickering in his tone. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

Silver straightened his spine, though Scott could see how badly he wanted to curl back in on himself. He forced his voice to stay even. “Yeah. Sorry, Mr. McCall. I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Rafael’s brow furrowed. He glanced between them, then softened, lowering his voice. “I just wasn’t expecting company, that’s all.”

Scott stepped forward quickly, angling himself slightly in front of Silver. “He’s staying over tonight. He… needed a place.”

Rafael studied them both—his son’s protective stance, Silver’s fragile but stubborn composure. Instead of pressing, he nodded slowly. “All right. I’ll get out of your way.”

Rafael gave one last look at Scott—something unspoken in it— “It’s… late. Just… keep the door, uh—” He hesitated, grimaced. “Never mind. I’ll… give you two space.”

He shut the door faster than he’d opened it, footsteps retreating down the hall.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Silver buried his face in his hands with a groan. “God. Kill me now.”

Scott, still catching his breath, let out a strangled laugh. “Could’ve been worse.”

Silver’s eye snapped up at him. “How?”

Scott’s grin was crooked, teasing, though his ears burned red. “He could’ve walked in, like… thirty seconds earlier.”

💰

“I don’t think he’s just younger in body… I think he’s younger in his mind, too,” Deaton said, voice low and measured as Scott, Silver and Stiles stood across from him in the clinic. “He didn’t recognize any of us. And he looked like he was scared out of his mind.”

“So if you’re a teenage werewolf, and you’re scared, where do you go?” Stiles asked, leaning on the counter.

“A wolf goes back to its den,” Scott answered quickly. “But Derek lives in a loft.”

Stiles shook his head, lips pulling thin. “Not when he was a teenager.”

Silver, sitting off to the side with his hood half up, muttered under his breath, “The Hale house.” His good eye flicked toward Scott, grim. “He wouldn’t remember the fire—it wouldn’t have happened yet.”

Scott groaned, dragging a hand down his face, while Lydia crossed her arms. “Okay, hold on. Say you do manage to catch up to him—what are you going to say? ‘Hey, surprise, your whole family’s dead’?”

Scott winced. “I guess I’m going to have to…”

Lydia let out a sharp scoff. “Oh, good luck with that.”

Silver leaned forward, shaking his head. “She’s probably right. Maybe you shouldn’t—at least not right away. Not until we figure out how to fix this.”

“I can’t lie to him,” Scott shot back.

“Okay! I’ll do it.” Stiles yells back.

“I don’t think any of us can. Remember, he can hear a heartbeat rising. When we find him, we tell him the truth.” Scott said.

Deaton folded his arms, watching them all with that unreadable calm. “If he gets to the house first, you won’t have to.”

💰

“Scott’s going to find Peter. And we’re supposed to meet Stiles at Scott’s house,” Silver said quietly from the passenger seat of Lydia’s car.

Lydia turned off the engine and glanced at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Silver asked.

Lydia let out a small, embarrassed chuckle. “No reason… I guess I just think this plan sounds like a horrible idea.”

Ren leaned forward from the backseat, smirking. “Horrible plan? You mean the kind we actually have a chance of surviving?”

Lydia shook her head slowly, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “We’ve had worse… like yesterday in Mexico.”

Silver’s gaze dropped to his hands. “About that… you and Scott, tied up to those electrified cables in the club… I’m sorry. I… I didn’t want—”

“Vividly,” Lydia interrupted, her tone calm but firm.

“I know,” Silver said, pausing. “I guess what I’m trying to ask is… if my hand was on the dial connected to you and I had to turn it up to ten…” He trailed off, swallowing hard.

“Would I be angry?” Lydia asked quietly.

“No,” she continued after a beat. “Because I knew you had no choice.”

Silver let out a slow breath, relief softening the tension in his shoulders.

“Exactly like Scott knows,” Lydia whispered, leaning back slightly.

Ren leaned forward, a teasing grin on his face. “And if you’re worried about him, just remember—you’re a badass. And he couldn’t be more into you.”

Lydia rolled her eyes and nudged Silver. “Now, grab a card from the visor so we can fill up. Uh… Beacon Hills Credit Union.” She climbed out of the car, leaving Silver alone to flip down the visor. Inside were a handful of credit cards, neatly stacked.

Kira leaned forward from the backseat. “Does having this many cards mean good credit or bad?” She frowned, tilting her head. “Hey… looks like she’s got…” She paused, glancing over at Silver. “A full tank.”

Before anyone could react, a scream ripped through the night. The three of them bolted toward the gas station bathroom, adrenaline instantly spiking.

“Lydia, are you okay?” Silver called out, his voice tight with concern.

“Lydia?”

“Don’t look…”

“Why? What—”

Silver froze as he followed her gaze. He stepped inside the bathroom first, his hand trembling as he peered around. Silver’s breath caught in his throat. The floor was covered in blood, the walls splattered, a body lying motionless in the center.

The world narrowed to the horror in front of them. No one spoke, each heartbeat echoing too loudly in the tense silence of the gas station bathroom.

💰

“We called Stilinski. They’re on their way,” Silver said into his phone, his voice steady but tense as he stepped into the bathroom with Ren, Kira, and Lydia close behind.

“What does it look like? Can you send pictures?” Scott’s voice came over the line.

Silver glanced at Lydia, who was already pulling out her phone. “Lydia’s doing it now,” he said.

He shook his head slightly, eyes scanning the scene. “But to be honest… Lydia and I may have a 4.0 in AP Biology, and there are still parts of the human anatomy I’ve never seen like this on walls,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze flicking between the splattered evidence and the stunned expressions of the others.

Ren, curiosity getting the better of him, stepped closer to the walls, leaning in to examine a strange pattern. “Whoa… is that… blood?” he asked, carefully circling the room. His fingers hovered just above the wall before he pulled them back, wary.

Silver’s head snapped toward him, a sharp edge in his voice. “Don’t touch anything, Ren. “

Ren raised his hands defensively. “Relax, I’m just looking. I can’t help it.”

Kira stayed closer to Silver. “I don’t think this guy was just ‘injured,'” she muttered, her voice low.

Silver crouched slightly, scanning the floor for clues, his good eye sharp and calculating. “Exactly. That’s why we keep calm. Panicking doesn’t help anyone. Least of all you, Ren,” he added with a small smirk.

Ren grinned sheepishly. “Point taken.”

💰

Stiles, Silver, Ren, and Lydia ran through the tunnel connecting the school to the field before stopping to catch their breath for a moment.

“You seriously need to find something better than a baseball bat,” Lydia said, eyeing the metal bat in Stiles’s hand. Stiles looked at her, mock-offended, before they pushed forward again.

“Where exactly are we going?” Stiles asked, his voice tight as their footsteps echoed in the tunnel.

Silver shot him a look. “We’re following the others’ lead. But if Kate’s involved, she’s not far.” His tone was steady, but there was a tension in his shoulders, like he was bracing for whatever came next.

Ren, keeping pace just behind him, frowned. “Okay, but does anyone else think running headfirst into this without knowing what we’re walking into is kind of… insane?”

They ran over to see the entrance of the school sign to see some type of vault wide open before running down the stairs to see Peter crouched down in front of a safe. “It was never… never… about the Triskelion. They took it. They took it while I was blind…” Peter mumbled, making them look at him confused.

“Took what?” Ren asked and Peter slowly stood up and turned to them, “Bonds. Bearer bonds. And they took them all.” He said. “Bearer bonds? Hold on, are you saying that you got robbed?” Stiles asked amused. “This was a heist! Somebody planned this!” Peter said angrily.

“How much did they take?” Silver asked and Peter sighed, “One hundred and seventeen…” He said. “Thousand?” Stiles asked and Peter looked away from them.

“Million…”