Chapter 59

Silver opened Allison’s door and quietly stepped inside. No one had entered the room since she died. It felt frozen in time — cold, haunted, untouched. Her bed was made the way she did every morning, her books still scattered across the desk.

He walked over and ran his fingers across the dusty surface, eyes tracing the outlines of her old notebooks and trinkets. His breath hitched when he spotted a photo of the two of them as kids, hanging upside down from the monkey bars, both grinning at the camera. The sunlight filtering through her curtains made the dust shimmer, as if the room itself was remembering.

The afternoon light filtered through the trees, glinting against the metal bars of the playground. The air was thick with summer heat, the faint hum of cicadas underscoring the sound of two children laughing.

Silver dangled from the monkey bars, small hands gripping tightly, his legs swinging with uneven rhythm. “Allison, you’re gonna fall,” he called, breathless but determined to sound composed.

Allison, already hanging upside down beside him, let out an exaggerated huff. “I am not! You’re just scared because you always slip first.”

Her grin was wide, defiant, the sunlight catching in her hair as it brushed the dusty ground.

“I’m not scared,” Silver replied, and in a burst of courage, he hooked his knees over the bar and let go with his hands. The world flipped, the sky became the ground, and he burst out laughing. “See? I can do it too!”

Allison looked over, a mix of pride and mock annoyance crossing her face. “You look like a bat.”

“You look like a weird bat,” he countered, making her snort with laughter.

The metal creaked beneath them as they swung slightly, their laughter carrying across the park. Their mother’s voice echoed faintly from the picnic table, calling for them to come down, but neither moved. They were suspended there — upside down, pinkies linked, trading small promises that felt unbreakable.

“Promise you won’t tell Dad I fell earlier?” Silver asked quietly.

Allison smiled, eyes soft. “Only if you promise not to tell mom I cried when I scraped my knee.”

He nodded, the gesture awkward from their inverted positions. “Deal.”

Silver snapped back to the present as a hand touched his left shoulder. He jumped hard, stumbling over his own legs and hitting the corner of the desk before crashing to the floor.

“I just brewed a new pot of coffee,” Argent said.

Silver winced, rubbing the side of his head. “You scared me,” he muttered. When he pulled his hand back, there was a small streak of blood at his hairline.

Argent’s expression shifted instantly — concern replacing his usual stoic calm. “Hold still,” he said, crouching beside him. He disappeared for a moment, returning with a first aid kit.

Silver sat awkwardly on the floor while his father pressed a damp cloth to the cut. “It’s not bad,” Argent said quietly. “Just a scrape.”

“Still hurts,” Silver mumbled, eyes unfocused.

“I know.” Argent’s tone softened, careful as he cleaned and bandaged the spot. It was quiet except for the rustle of gauze and the faint hum of the old refrigerator. For a second, it felt almost normal — like before everything went wrong.

“There,” Argent said, pressing the tape down gently. “Try not to flinch so much next time.”

Silver managed a faint smile. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me then.”

Argent stood, offering him a hand. “Fair point.”

Silver took it and let himself be pulled up. “Thanks,” he murmured, brushing the dust from his jeans. He followed his father into the kitchen, still touching the bandage at his temple.

“Have you talked to Rachel?” he asked quietly as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“She and Isaac are in Montpellier,” Argent said finally. “She still can’t get a hold of Michael.”

Silver frowned. “I don’t think he’d go to France. It’s Michael — if he wanted to be with his mom, he would be.”

“Have you heard from him?” Argent asked.

Silver shook his head. “No.”

Argent exhaled through his nose, thoughtful. “He’s reckless — always has been — but he’s not careless. There’s a difference. He’d never walk away without a reason.”

Silver’s voice caught slightly. “Allison… she made us promise to take care of each other when she was gone. With her dying breath, Dad.” His hands tightened around his mug. “They loved each other. That’s why he ran. He couldn’t get over the fact that she died.”

Argent’s gaze softened, his eyes studying his son’s face. “Neither could I,” he said quietly. Then, after a long pause, “But what about you, Arthur?”

Silver blinked. “What about me?”

Argent leaned back, crossing his arms loosely. “You’ve been keeping busy – worrying about everyone else, helping Scott, holding this family together.”

Silver hesitated. His throat tightened, but he forced a faint smile anyway. “I’m okay.”

Argent’s eyes narrowed slightly — not out of suspicion, but understanding. He’d said those same words too many times himself. “Make sure you’re taking care of yourself, son,” he said quietly. “Before you try to take care of him.”

Silver looked away. “I am,” he lied again, softer this time.

Argent watched him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Scott’s a good man,” he said. “He always trys to save everyone. But if you forget to save yourself first… he’ll drown trying to save you too.”

That landed — not harsh, but true. Silver swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around his mug. “I get it.”

Argent gave a faint, tired smile. “I saw your sister in you just now,” he said.

Silver looked up, startled. “Allison?”

Argent shook his head. “She had the same need to protect, to put herself last.” His voice was gentle, distant. Silver blinked fast, his jaw tightening as he looked down at his coffee. “Guess that runs in the family.”

Argent’s eyes softened. “Maybe,” he said, almost to himself.

💰

Ren and Kira sat slouched in their dad’s classroom before first period, both of them half-focused on their phones and half-sorting through their bookbags. The early morning quiet made the room feel bigger than it was, the only sounds coming from their soft tapping and the shuffle of papers.

Ken’s voice cut through the stillness, calm but firm. “It’s not that we were wanting to talk to you… it’s that we were wondering if you wanted to talk to us…”

Ren looked up briefly, eyes half-lidded, checking his phone with one hand. “About what?”

Ken’s tone sharpened slightly. “About something your sister forgot to mention? Something important.”

Kira’s brow furrowed, her fingers fumbling with the zipper on her bag. “How important?”

“Exceptionally,” Ken replied, and the weight in his voice made both twins exchange a worried glance, eyes wide.

“Oh, God… You know?” Kira whispered, her voice tense.

“We know,” Ken said evenly.

The room seemed to shrink as both twins launched into a frantic, almost simultaneous apology. “Look, I was going to tell you… “

“We were going to tell you everything—about the Deadpool,”

“- the assassins, the killings-“

“… But I didn’t want you to worry,” Kira and Ren rushed out, words tumbling over each other.

Ken raised an eyebrow, exasperated. “I was talking about you joining the lacrosse team!”

Ren blinked, caught off guard. “Oh!”

Kira froze, then muttered, “Then… never mind…”

Ken’s jaw dropped slightly, a long pause before he finally asked, incredulously, “Deadpool?”

💰

Silver looked up from his notebook as Lydia’s voice cut through the room.

“Please stop hovering.”

Malia froze mid-gesture, eyes narrowing at Lydia. “I’m not hovering — I’m waiting! Draw something. Write something. We need to know who else is on that list.”

Silver raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You mean you need to know if you’re on the list.”

Malia blinked, then nodded. “If someone’s coming to take my head off… then, yeah, I’d like to know.”

Ren, sitting beside Silver and flipping through a textbook, glanced over and muttered, “Way to make it sound casual.” He looked at Silver for a beat longer, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Still a little jumpy on your left side, huh?”

Silver frowned, half-amused, half-annoyed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ren grinned. “You flinched when she moved. You’ve been spooked on that side since—” He gestured vaguely toward Silver’s temple. “You know. The whole head-meets-desk thing.”

Silver rolled his eyes. “You mean when I fell?”

“Sure,” Ren said with an innocent shrug. “If that helps your pride.”

Lydia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Can we please focus?”

“Yeah, Silver,” Ren said under his breath, still smiling. “Focus. Maybe from the right side this time.”

Silver chuckled softly, glancing back at Lydia. She was trying to focus, but Malia’s hovering presence was clearly too distracting. “Can you please just sit down? You’re making me nervous,” Lydia said, exasperated.

Malia blinked and awkwardly settled beside Silver. “Sorry.”

Silver watched as Lydia closed her eyes, her hands hovering over the sketchbook like she was about to channel something. Then Malia spoke again. “Guys?”

“What?” Lydia asked, sighing.

Malia hesitated, looking at both of them. “Maybe we need help… from another Banshee.”

Silver leaned forward slightly, scanning the drawing Malia had set down. It looked like someone screaming. “Meredith,” Lydia muttered, frowning.

“Eichen House says Meredith can’t have visitors without permission from a family member,” Silver added quietly as they walked down the stairs together. “Not gonna be easy, since her whole family is dead.”

Lydia let out a long sigh. “Perfect.”

“Okay… maybe we go back to the art room? Or the music room?” Malia suggested.

“I’m not plucking piano strings for two hours, waiting for some supernatural inspiration,” Lydia said sharply.

Malia shrugged. “Fine! What else do Banshees do?”

Silver tilted his head, glancing between them. “You think I know? I can’t just… turn it on. I’m not like you guys—I don’t have claws, glowing eyes, super senses. I just have voices in my head,” Lydia said, frustration radiating from her.

Ren leaned against the lockers, smirking faintly. “Well, at least it’s consistent. Voices in your head—that’s your superpower.”

Lydia spun on him, glaring before storming off down the hallway.

“Seriously, Ren?” Silver asked, exasperated. “Did you have to say something?”

Ren shrugged casually. “It’s not my fault she’s a Banshee.”

Silver rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as he jogged after Lydia. “I swear… I’m dealing with children.”

💰

Scott and Silver strolled across the school grounds, sunlight catching the tousled strands of Silver’s hair. Scott’s gaze flicked down, noticing the fresh cut on Silver’s forehead.

“Hey,” Scott said softly, concern threading his voice. “What happened here?” He reached out, his fingers hovering near the scrape.

Silver tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s nothing. Just a little bump.”

“Silver…” Scott frowned, stepping closer.

“You’re not going to make a big deal out of a scratch, are you?” Silver teased, rolling his eyes.

Scott’s hand moved on its own, brushing gently just above the cut. “Does it hurt?”

Silver’s breath caught, and his ears went pink. “It does… when my idiot boyfriend keeps touching it,” he murmured, softer than he intended.

Scott froze for a beat, hand lingering longer than he realized before pulling back, cheeks warming. “Sorry. I just… I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Scott’s gaze softened, and he added with a tentative smile, “Did I tell you how handsome you look today?”

Silver’s lips twitched into a shy grin, his eyes dropping to the ground to hide it. “You’re terrible at flirting,” he murmured.

“Who says I’m flirting?” Scott countered, leaning in just a little closer, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Before Silver could hide his smile, Stiles’ voice cut through the quiet.

“Oh my God,” Stiles groaned from behind them. I came to ask if we’re getting lunch, not to witness—whatever this is.”

Before Scott could defend himself, Silver’s gaze flicked past Stiles — his playful expression fading. “Uh, Scott?”

Scott turned to see Liam a few yards ahead, walking straight toward the Davenford Prep students

“I just wanted to say… have a good game,” Liam said, holding his hand out. Everyone turned to look at him in surprise — then the prep students started laughing.

“That’s cute, Liam,” Brett said with a smirk. “Is that what they told you to say in anger management? Apologize, and everything’s fine? You demolished Coach’s car.”

Liam’s jaw tightened, his breathing starting to quicken. “I paid for it,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, you’re gonna pay for it,” Brett shot back, stepping closer. “We’re gonna break you in half out there — and it’s gonna be all your fault.”

Silver glanced down just in time to see a drop of blood fall from Liam’s clenched fist. His instincts kicked in — he moved forward, grabbing Liam’s shoulder and gently pulling him behind him just as Scott and Stiles hurried over.

“Hey, what’s up, prep students?” Stiles said cheerfully, stepping in between them. “Welcome to our little public high school! How you doing?” He stuck his hand out for a shake. Brett didn’t take it — he was staring at Silver.

For a second, Brett’s confident smirk faltered. His eyes flicked toward Silver’s left side — toward the faint scar and the clouded eye that caught the light wrong.

“The hell happened to your eye?” Brett muttered, his tone edged with something that almost sounded like disgust. His friends snickered quietly behind him.

Before he could blink, Scott stepped forward, shoulders squared, his jaw tight enough to crack. “You got a problem?” His voice dropped low, the warning in it clear.

Silver reached out fast, a steady hand landing on Scott’s chest. “Scott, don’t,” he whispered, voice calm but firm. His other hand subtly pressed against Liam’s shoulder, keeping him back too.

Silver stood between them, unflinching.

“That’s a firm handshake you got there,” Stiles said quickly, trying to cover the rising tension. “Uh, we’re very excited for the scrimmage tonight, but let’s keep it clean, all right? No rough stuff out there. All right, see you on the field! Go!” Scott and Stiles both grabbed Liam and started dragging him off, Silver still glaring at Brett as they walked away.

Silver ran in first and instantly turned on the showers, the sound of rushing water filling the locker room. Scott and Stiles dragged a growling Liam in right behind him.

“Okay… you calm yet?” Stiles asked after they’d held Liam under the freezing water for what felt like forever.

Liam only roared in response, thrashing hard enough to rattle the tiles.

“Not calm yet,” Silver muttered, stepping forward and pressing a hand firmly against Liam’s chest, forcing him back under the water again. His expression stayed neutral — practiced — but there was a flash of worry behind his eyes.

“Okay! Okay!” Liam finally panted, breaking free and sagging against the wall. His breathing slowed, his heartbeat steadied. Silver reached over and turned off the water, the sudden silence ringing in their ears.

Liam slid down until he was sitting against the wall, dripping and exhausted.

“That car you smashed…” Scott said carefully. “I thought you said that was your teacher’s?”

Liam looked up at him. “He was also my coach. He benched me for the entire season.”

Silver raised an eyebrow, leaning against one of the lockers. “What’d you do?”

Liam hesitated, then sighed. “Got a couple of red cards…”

“Just a couple?” Stiles said, tilting his head, eyebrows raised.

Scott crouched down in front of Liam. “You gotta be honest with us — what else happened?”

“Nothing. I got kicked out of school. They sent me to a psychologist for an evaluation.”

“What did they call it?” Silver asked quietly, his tone more curious than judgmental.

“Intermittent explosive disorder,” Liam said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I.E.D.?” Stiles repeated. “You’re literally an I.E.D.? That’s great. That’s great. You gave powers to a walking time bomb!” He gave Scott a thumbs-up, earning a sharp glare from both Scott and Silver.

“Did they give you anything for it?” Silver asked, crouching beside Scott now.

“Risperdal. It’s an antipsychotic,” Liam muttered.

“Oh, this just gets better…” Stiles said under his breath.

“But I don’t take it—” Liam started.

“Obviously!” Stiles cut in.

“Hey, Stiles?” Silver said evenly, glancing up at him.

“What?”

“Not helping. Shut it.”

Stiles pouted, throwing up his hands as he backed off.

“I can’t play lacrosse on it — it makes me too tired,” Liam said.

Scott sighed and nodded. “Okay. Then I think you should bail out of the game. Tell Coach your leg’s still hurting.”

Liam’s eyes went wide. “No! No, I can do this — especially if you’re there.”

Silver exhaled, shaking his head but offering a small pat on Liam’s shoulder. “This isn’t just about the game, Liam.”

Scott nodded. “We think whoever killed Demarco may have been on our team.”

“Who’s Demarco?” Liam asked.

“The one who brought the beer to the party?” Stiles said. “The guy who was beheaded, remember?”

Silver nodded. “We think the person who ordered the keg killed Demarco.”

Liam slowly looked down, guilt flashing in his eyes.

“Liam?” Scott asked softly. “What, you know something?”

Liam looked back up, hesitant. “I don’t know who ordered the keg… but I know who paid for it.”

💰

“Popcorn?”

Silver jumped as Ren laughed, stepping out from his left side.

“You need to find a better joke,” Silver muttered, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

Ren just shrugged, tossing a few pieces into his mouth. “I actually thanked Kira before the game. Honestly, finding an assassin is way better than talking to a banshee.”

Silver’s attention was elsewhere, his eyes fixed on Scott standing near the field. He could tell Scott was nervous, even though he was doing his best to hide it in front of Kira and Stiles. Silver’s chest tightened. Scott’s focus, his confidence—it all mattered too much to him.

Ren leaned back, smirking. “Stop staring at your boyfriend. It’s gross enough that you’re wearing his team sweatshirt.”

Silver glanced down at the sweatshirt, then back to the field. “We’re here to make sure nobody gets hurt. That’s what matters.”

Ren snorted. “Wow. Look at you, all heroic and responsible. It’s making you kinda hot. Wanna try making out for a second?”

Silver rolled his eyes, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, and gave Ren a gentle push. “Not now, Ren.”

He shook his head and started walking toward the field, his hoodie sliding slightly off his shoulders.

“Let’s go! Let’s go! Come on! Hey, McCall! I said, get your ass out on the field!” Coach yelled as Ren and Silver walked up to the lacrosse bench and stood next to Liam while Scott walked up to Coach. “But Coach, his leg’s still healing. I don’t think he should play,” Scott said and Coach shrugged slightly, “He says he’s fine.”

“As Captain, I’m suggesting Liam sit out the game.” Scott said in all seriousness, making Coach burst out laughing. “And, as President of the United States, I’m vetoing that suggestion.”

“What if he gets hurt?” Scott tried to argue and all of a sudden Brett called out, “Hey, Liam! Think fast!” He yelled before shooting a ball that would have hit if Liam wouldn’t have caught it. “What great timing.” Ren muttered as Coach nodded, “Oh, he plays.” He said, making Scott sigh.

“You know what to do?” Scott asked as Silver walked up beside him, his helmet tucked under his arm.

Silver nodded. “Keep an eye on Liam and Garrett, make sure nobody dies.”

Scott huffed a small laugh. “Good plan.”

“Be careful out there,” Scott added, softer this time.

Silver gave a crooked smile. “Funny, I was just about to say the same thing to you.” His voice dipped, teasing but laced with a nervous edge. He looked out toward the field, the players warming up, the noise of the crowd fading into a hum. “Is it cheesy to wish we could just… be normal? You know, you’re the captain, I’m in the bleachers, and that’s it?”

Scott’s expression softened. He leaned closer, their foreheads brushing for a second before he kissed him — slow, grounding.

“I’ll score you a goal,” Scott whispered against his lips.

Silver smiled faintly, eyes lingering on him like he wanted to freeze the moment. “Good luck, Captain.”

“There you go, Liam! Liam… Stilinski… McCall!”

Scott grinned, backing away before jogging onto the field, his stick spinning in his hand.

Silver sat down next to Ren as his eyes moved back and forth between Liam, Scott, Kira, Stiles and Garrett. He watched as Stiles was obviously trying to distract the other team player as they waited for the ref to blow the whistle. And because of said distraction, Stiles was able to get the ball first before tossing it to Kira.

Silver sat down next to Ren as his eyes moved back and forth between Liam, Scott, Kira, Stiles and Garrett. He watched as Stiles was obviously trying to distract the other team player as they waited for the ref to blow the whistle. And because of said distraction, Stiles was able to get the ball first before tossing it to Kira.

Ren stood up and clapped slightly, “Yes, Kira!” He yelled as Kira started running. “Pass it!” Coach yelled as Kiradodged players, “Kira! Pass the ball!” He yelled again but she kept running until she spun around and tossed the ball into the net making everyone cheer.

“Yukimura! Get over here!” Coach yelled and Kira ran over to Coach. “Take a seat. You’re benched for the rest of the game.” He said, making Kira’s eyes widen, “What? Why?”

“You didn’t pass.”

“I had an open shot!”

“The play was for you to pass! This is a scrimmage, it’s about teamwork, Yukimura. So, you’re benched.” He said and Kira sighed before walking over to her brother. “I thought you looked badass out there.” Ren said, making Kira smile at him, “Thanks Ren.” She said.

The game started again and a few seconds after Liam, Brett and Garrett all slammed into each other hard making everyone gasp. Silver instantly shot up and ran out to the field and over to Liam right as Scott and Stiles did.

“How hard did you hit him?” Scott asked after they pulled Liam up to his feet, “I didn’t… He hit me.” Liam said and held his arm out that looked like his bone was a poke away from coming through the skin. “Okay.” Scott said as he glanced around before grabbing Liam’s arm while Silver and Stiles blocked anyone from seeing.

Brett was still groaning in pain as the EMT and the ref pulled him up and started taking him off the field making them watch with furrowed brows.

A metal scraping sound made Scott look up and glance around before noticing Garrett looking at him with a slight smirk. “Are you cut? Did Garrett cut you?” Scottasked as Liam shook his head, “No. No, I’m okay.”

“Then he missed,” Silver said, making Liam look at him confused, “What do you mean?” He asked and Scott looked over at him. “It’s you, Liam… You’re the one he’s after.” He said and the Coach blew his whistle, “ARGENT! Off the field!” He yelled, making Silver sigh and glance at Scott before running off.

When he got back to the bench he stared at Garrett for a moment before squinting slightly in thought. He looked over at the bleachers to see Mason was now sitting alone, their friend Violet, Garrett’s girlfriend nowhere to be seen.

💰

“I talked to Coach. I’m out for the rest of the game.” Liam said as he walked over to Scott and Kira, “What are you gonna do?” Kira asked and Scott sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know… Something’s still not right. We’re missing something.” He said and then Ren and Stiles ran up to them.

“Guys? Lydia just broke another third of the list.” Ren said, making them look at him, “Am I on it?” Liam asked and Stiles sighed and shook his head. “No but someone else is.” He said, making realization cross over Scott’s face, “And Silver, he’s not here anymore.”

💰

“Brett?” he called, crouching down to help him sit up. “Are you okay?”

Brett groaned, shaking his head weakly.

“He was after you,” Silver whispered, realization dawning. “Come on, this way.”

Brett froze. “What did you do to me?” he asked, panic rising, just as Violet stepped into view.

“You were cut with a poisoned blade,” she said coldly. “Laced with wolfsbane.”

Silver quickly helped Brett sit against the lockers. “Stay back,” he told him. Then he turned to Violet. “You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to hurt anyone.” His hand crept toward the pocket knife in his hoodie.

Violet ignored the warning. She flicked a switch, and the thermo-cut wire in her hands sparked to life. “Why? Why are you doing this?” Silver demanded, taking a careful step back.

Violet’s smile twisted cruelly. “Why? Because I’m a hunter, and you… you’re nothing. A weak little kid trying to play hero. Hiding behind your boyfriend, thinking you matter. Pathetic. You’re barely more than bait, Silver.”

Silver’s chest tightened, anger and hurt mixing. “Gotta catch me first,” he said, bolting across the locker room. He stayed low, silent, while Brett crawled toward safety. Silver peeked around a corner—and ran straight into Violet.

She seized him, dragging him forward just as Scott barreled into the locker room. The thermo-cut wire wrapped tightly around Silver’s neck. “Don’t move another step,” Violet hissed. “Or he dies.” Silver’s eyes widened at Scott.

Scott charged, forcing Violet to loosen her grip, letting Silver slip free. Violet stepped back, her gaze sharp and venomous. “Honestly, Scott… is this the best your pack has to offer? Your precious little boyfriend is laughable. Weak, scared, and utterly useless. I’d tear him apart before you even blinked.”

Silver gritted his teeth, trying to push himself between her and Brett, fury burning alongside fear.

Violet lunged again, the thermo-cut wire crackling as it tightened around Scott’s neck. “He said not to try!” she snarled. “But now I’ve got you—an Alpha!”

“Hey!” Silver shouted, throwing his knife. It clanged off the locker just inches from her head, making her flinch. Scott’s eyes flashed red as he seized the moment, ripping the searing wire from his throat.

Violet turned sharply, fury twisting her features. “Should’ve stayed out of it, pretty boy,” she hissed, and before Silver could move, she slashed at him—fast and deliberate. The blade cut across the scarred skin around his left eye, reopening old pain.

Silver cried out, stumbling back, one hand flying to his face. Blood welled between his fingers as his breath hitched.

“Silver!” Scott’s voice broke into a growl.

“Don’t—touch—him!” he roared, eyes blazing crimson as he lunged. He grabbed Violet by the throat and slammed her into the lockers, the metal ringing out.

Violet clawed at his wrists, smirking even through the pain. “You’re weak,” she rasped. “Look at you—losing control over him. This pathetic little boyfriend of yours is just another thing you can’t protect, Scott.”

Scott’s grip tightened, his voice low and dangerous. “Say that again.”

Violet’s smirk faltered, but she forced out a bitter laugh. “You think you can save him? He’s already broken.”

With a snarl, Scott slammed her back against the wall. The lockers rattled violently before she went limp, collapsing to the ground.

The moment she hit the floor, Scott spun toward Silver. His chest tightened at the sight — Silver half-kneeling, one hand still clutching his face, blood trickling through his fingers.

“Silver,” Scott breathed, rushing over. He dropped beside him, gripping his arms. “Hey, hey—look at me.”

Silver hesitated, eyes unfocused, blood staining his palm. “It’s fine,” he lied weakly, the tremor in his voice betraying him.

Scott cupped the uninjured side of his face gently, forcing their eyes to meet. “You’re bleeding. You’re not fine.”

Silver gave a shaky laugh, more breath than sound. “She fights dirty.”

Scott’s jaw clenched as he pulled him into a careful embrace, his heartbeat pounding against Silver’s shoulder.

“You need to call your dad. Now.”

Stiles nodded, pulling out his phone. A low groan echoed from the back of the locker room. Ren ran toward it and saw Brett convulsing slightly on the floor.

“Guys! We need to get him to Deaton! Now!” Ren shouted, panic lacing his voice.