Chapter 61

The hospital room was washed in pale light, the blinds half – drawn against the afternoon sun. The soft beeping of monitors filled the silence, rhythmic and steady  –  one of the few things that hadn’t changed in the weeks since Silver had been brought here.

He sat upright in bed, a blanket tucked around his shoulders even though he wasn’t cold. The bruises on his body were fading, but the emptiness in his eyes wasn’t.

The door opened quietly, and Kate Argent stepped in. She carried no weapon, no sharp confidence  –  just a paper cup of coffee in one hand and a faint, tired smile.

“Hey, kiddo,” she said gently, her voice breaking the heavy quiet. She carried a paper bag from the bakery down the street  –  the one that always smelled like sugar and cinnamon.

Silver blinked, surprised. “Kate?”

She smiled, closing the door behind her. “Your dad called me,” she said, setting the bag on the tray by his bed. “Said you might need a visitor who doesn’t sound like a cop.”

Silver didn’t look up. “He sent you?”

Kate nodded, pulling up a chair beside his bed. “Yeah. He said you haven’t been talking much.”

“I don’t have anything to say,” Silver muttered, his voice small.

Kate took a quiet sip of coffee, studying him. “That’s okay. I can talk enough for both of us.”

That earned her a faint, reluctant smile  –  just a flicker, but it was something.

Kate nodded softly, eyes flicking toward the bruise under his eye. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He didn’t answer, so she tried again. “I heard you don’t want to do archery anymore.”

Silver’s head turned slightly, eyes narrowing. “Allison told you?”

“Yeah,” Kate said with a faint smile. “She’s been practicing nonstop. Says she wants to get as good as you were.”

“I wasn’t that good,” he muttered.

Kate leaned back, folding her arms. “That’s not what she says. You were her favorite competition. Now she’s just shooting at targets. Boring targets.”

The faintest smile ghosted across his face, but it vanished just as quickly. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Silver didn’t answer. The silence stretched until his breath hitched, his small hands curling into fists. “They were waiting for me,” he whispered finally. “In the woods. They said things.”

Kate stayed quiet, giving him space.

“They saw me with him,” Silver went on, his voice breaking on the last word. “And they followed me after school. I thought it was just a joke, but… they wouldn’t stop. I tried to run, but – ” His voice dissolved into shaky breaths.

Kate’s chest tightened. She reached forward carefully, not touching him yet. “Hey. Look at me.”

Silver didn’t  –  his eyes were glassy, his breathing uneven.

“Arthur,” she said more firmly, using his real name in a way that made him still. When he finally met her eyes, hers were soft and steady. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You hear me?”

Tears slipped down his cheeks. “They said – “

“I don’t care what they said.” Kate reached out, her hand warm against his shoulder. “You were brave. You were yourself. That’s not wrong. That’s strong.”

Silver’s breath stuttered. “Mom doesn’t think so.”

Kate’s expression softened, a flicker of sadness in her eyes. “You’re safe now,” she said quietly.

The tears came freely then, and Kate didn’t hesitate  –  she moved to sit on the bed beside him, wrapping her arms around his small frame. He stiffened for a second, then melted into her hug, sobs shaking through him.

Kate leaned back slightly, brushing away a tear on his cheek with her thumb.  “You’re okay,” she whispered. “I’ve got you. I promise.”

💰

“After entering the IP address, you will be connected through a Darknet portal to an untraceable bank. Once logged in, enter your account number to receive wire transfers. The IP address will deactivate with each transfer. You will be assigned a new IP address if you choose to continue down the list. Remember, visual confirmation is always required for payment.“

Silver leaned over and paused the tape, glancing around the room. “You ever made a wire transfer?”

Stiles shrugged. “Never had enough money.”

Scott shook his head, watching Silver stretch out on the bed. “So… you didn’t understand a word of that, huh?”

Everyone nodded in unison.

“I don’t understand any of this,” Scott admitted, sighing. “Why would someone use all this money just to kill us?”

“Someone wants you dead. Badly,” Stiles said, shrugging.

Scott reached for the bag of money. “Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?”

“It’s late,” Scott explained as Silver yawned. “We’ve got the PSATs in the morning.”

“No, I meant the money,” Stiles said, narrowing his eyes. “Five hundred thousand dollars. You know how much money that is?”

Scott glanced at him. “It’s five hundred thousand – “

“Half a million, Scott,” Stiles interrupted, scoffing. “What are you gonna do, just slide it under your mattress?”

“I have to talk to Derek. The money’s his,” Scott said.

“You mean his and Peter’s,” Silver added, correcting him.

Scott looked between Stiles and Silver, confused. “What does that mean?”

“It means maybe we proceed with caution,” Silver said, giving Stiles a small nod of support.

Scott frowned. “You don’t think we should tell Derek?”

“No, no,” Stiles said, standing and exhaling. “Of course we have to tell him. I’m just… I’m saying some of that money belongs to Peter, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Right. Peter. Homicidal killer. You want to hand him half a million dollars?” Stiles emphasized.

“So, we should give Derek his money back… but not Peter?” Scott asked, trying to make sense of it.

“I didn’t say that,” Stiles replied, raising his hands.

“Stiles, what exactly are you saying?” Scott asked, standing fully now.

Before Stiles could answer, a sharp knock came at the door. Scott quickly shoved the bag of money under the bed. Silver stood up slightly, his hand hovering over the bag, tense and alert.

Malia’s voice cut through the tension. “We found Satomi’s pack – Derek and I. But they’re dead.”

Scott’s face tightened. “All of them?”

Malia nodded grimly. “All the ones we found.”

“Then… where’s Derek?”

💰

The morning light spilled through the school windows, bouncing off lockers and glossy floors that gleamed with the faint scent of industrial cleaner. The air was thick with nervous chatter and the soft scratch of freshly sharpened pencils  –  a sound that somehow made the moment feel both ordinary and tense.

Scott, Kira, Malia, Stiles, Silver, and Ren stood clustered together outside their testing room, a small island of familiar chaos amid the sea of anxious students. It almost felt normal  –  the kind of morning that used to exist before monsters, hunts, and near – death experiences.

Silver stood slightly off to the side, his backpack slung over one shoulder. His glasses caught the light, reflecting it enough to hide the faint cloudiness in his left eye. Every now and then, he adjusted them  –  a nervous tick Scott noticed instantly.

“Where’s Lydia?” Kira asked. “She took it freshman year,” Silver said, his voice calm but distant as he tucked one hand into his hoodie pocket.

Malia frowned. “Wait, she took it early? Does that mean I could’ve taken it some other time?”

“Malia, you studied harder for this than any of us. You’d better take it now before you forget everything you learned.” Stiles said, giving her a gentle nudge and a warm smile.

Malia crossed her arms, scowling. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna do good.”

“Well,” Ren cut in smoothly, arms folded.

Malia turned to him, narrowing her eyes. “Well what?”

“It’s do well, not do good,” Ren said, suppressing a grin.

“Oh, my God.” Malia rolled her eyes.

Stiles shot Ren a playful glare. “Seriously, Ren, you’re impossible sometimes.”

Ren shrugged with mock innocence, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And yet, somehow, still charming.”

Silver couldn’t help a small laugh, shaking his head. The sound drew Scott’s attention  –  his gaze softening as he looked at Silver. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly, stepping a little closer.

Silver hesitated, fingers brushing the frame of his glasses. “I’m fine,” he said, but Scott still frowned, unconvinced.

“You’ve been rubbing your eye all morning,” Scott said, lowering his voice. “If it’s bothering you, you can sit this one out. It’s just a test.”

Silver gave him a small, lopsided smile. “It’s fine. I can see enough to fail like everyone else.”

Ren let out a quiet laugh, lightening the mood. “That’s the spirit.”

“Anyway,” Silver said, clearing his throat and crossing his arms in mock seriousness, trying to steer them back on track. “We’re doing this because  –  while we’re trying not to die  –  we still need to live. If I survive high school, I’d like to go to college. A good college.”

Kira smiled, her shoulders relaxing a bit. “It’s only three hours. We can survive three hours.”

Silver pressed his thumb against the ink, then grabbed a couple of pencils and his test booklet, settling into his seat.

Stiles, never one for subtlety, dumped a handful of pencils onto his desk, arranging them like he was preparing for battle.

Malia sat in front of Silver, her hands tightly folded in her lap, her eyes wide and nervous as she glanced around the room.

Simon, the proctor in charge, cleared his throat and addressed the class. “Please do not open your test booklet until you are instructed to do so. This exam will be two hours and ten minutes. There will be two twenty – five – minute critical reading sections, two twenty – five – minute math sections, and one thirty – minute essay portion.”

He paused, glancing toward the door. “There are supposed to be two teachers monitoring this exam…”

“I know,” Natalie said, frowning slightly. “It’s Coach. He’s not exactly punctual.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and sighed. “Let me just try him again.”

As she stepped out, the room fell into uneasy silence. Silver drummed his fingers on his desk, He caught Ren looking over.

Ren leaned over with a grin and gave him two thumbs up

Silver rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, Natalie walked back in, slightly out of breath. “I can’t find him. But Mr. Yukimura’s upstairs grading papers. Should I ask him?”

Simon shook his head. “We’ll start without him. We can get help during the first break.”

He pressed a button on his watch, the small beep echoing in the room. “You may now open your test booklets and begin.”

Then, without warning, a soft thud broke it.

Everyone froze.

Sydney, a girl a few rows over, slumped sideways in her chair and hit the floor.

“Sydney!” Natalie shouted, rushing to her side. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” Sydney said weakly, trying to sit up. “I just… got kind of dizzy.” She laughed nervously, but her skin was pale  –  and there was a strange red mark on her forearm.

Natalie’s brow furrowed as she took her hand. “Sydney, how long have you had this?”

Sydney blinked, confused. “I don’t… know. It just showed up.”

“Ms. Martin, should I stop the test?” Simon asked, standing awkwardly by the desk.

Natalie shook her head quickly. “No, it’s fine. Everyone stay in your seats. I’ll, uh, be back in a minute. Nobody leaves the room.”

She helped Sydney to her feet and walked her out into the hallway, the door closing behind them.

For a few moments, the class stayed quiet  –  then came the yelling.

“Get back! No! Don’t come in here! Get back outside!” Natalie’s voice was sharp, panicked, echoing through the hallway.

Chairs screeched as everyone stood. Scott and Stiles were the first to reach the door, throwing it open just in time to see Natalie pushing on the double doors, locking them tight. Her face was pale, terrified.

“Back to your seats! Now! Please!” she shouted, eyes flicking toward something unseen down the hall.

💰

“Bet they’re thinking smallpox,” Stiles said, glancing around at Silver, Ren, Malia, and Kira.

“Not likely,” Simon replied, drawing their attention. His tone was calm, precise, but carried a weight that made them all lean in. “Smallpox was eradicated worldwide in 1979. We’ve only completely eradicated two viruses in history. The other was rinderpest  –  and that one killed cows.”

Stiles made a face, muttering under his breath. “Well, unless it’s something worse…”

Simon raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with the comment.

Malia peered out the window, squinting at the rows of government and emergency vehicles forming a perimeter outside. “Whatever it is, they’re taking it seriously. There are a lot of cars and trucks out there.”

Silver adjusted his glasses, listening carefully, and then turned toward Stiles. “Is your dad with them?”

Stiles nodded, hopping to his feet. “Yeah. I should probably call him.” He started walking toward the table where all the phones were lined up.

Simon’s voice stopped him cold. “Don’t bother. They’ve shut down any outside communication by now  –  no cell service, no WiFi. They don’t want a panic starting. Looks like we’re just going to have to wait and see what happens.”

💰

“Silver? Do you ever get the feeling that Scott and Stiles aren’t telling you everything?” Malia asked, fidgeting with the straps of her backpack.

Silver adjusted his glasses nervously. “What do you mean?”

Malia glanced around, lowering her voice. “Like… they hide stuff. Important stuff.”

Silver shifted in his seat, anxiety tightening his chest. “I… I think if they did, they’d probably have a pretty good reason.”

Malia leaned closer, whispering, “Do you know what they’re hiding in the bag under Scott’s bed?”

Ren snorted from across the room, leaning back with a grin. “I don’t ask what Scott keeps under his bed. Personal stuff, people. Very personal.”

Malia shot Ren a distracted glare, unable to hold back a small laugh at his ridiculous delivery.

Silver watched them, forcing a smile, but his mind kept wandering. He couldn’t shake the image of Michael, running  from Violet’s body.

💰

Silver ran a hand nervously through his hair, his glasses slipping slightly as he glanced at Scott. His boyfriend’s eyes flickered from red back to their normal brown, and Silver’s chest tightened with worry. Beside him, Ren crossed his arms, leaning against a locker, his jaw tight with concern.

Sighing, Scott scratched the back of his neck as Mr. Yukimura spoke. “Still happening,” the teacher observed, voice heavy with concern.

Malia lifted her hands, claws extended, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I can’t make them go back,” she admitted.

Mr. Yukimura shook his head. “Obviously, the virus is affecting the two of you in ways no human could experience,” he said, glancing at Scott and Silver.

Silver stepped closer to Scott, his hand brushing against his boyfriend’s arm. “We… we have to be careful,” he murmured, voice tight.

Stiles nodded, running a hand over his face. “You guys have to stay out of sight,” he said, glancing around at the group. “We have to quarantine you from the quarantine.”

Kira frowned, anxiety flickering across her features. “Yeah, but where? What if they get violent, like on a full moon?”

Scott shook his head. “We shouldn’t stay in here. Not in the locker room.” He ran a hand through his hair, thinking fast. “A classroom isn’t going to hold us…”

Ren frowned. “What about the basement?”

“Too many ways out,” Scott replied sharply. “We need something… secure. Somewhere nobody can find us.” His eyes swept the room, landing on a look of realization. “The vault,” he said, turning to the others.

Silver’s heart thudded as he looked between Scott and the rest of the group. “The Hale vault?” he repeated, a mix of hope and worry in his voice.

Scott nodded, determination settling in his gaze. “The Hales always have an escape route, like their house. There has to be another way in.”

“This is where the high school sign is – so the vault’s got to be right around here,” Stiles said, hunched over the blueprint of the school spread across a dusty table in the empty classroom. His voice echoed slightly off the tile floors.

“I suppose, if there’s a second entrance, it would probably be accessible from the basement,” Mr. Yukimura said, peering over Stiles’s shoulder.

Stiles nodded, tapping a section on the paper. “It’s probably somewhere in this hallway – the west corridor.”

Before anyone could respond, Stiles suddenly swayed. His knees buckled, and Silver darted forward, catching him before he hit the ground. “Stiles!” Silver said, gripping his arm tightly.

“I – I’m fine,” Stiles muttered, trying to steady himself, but his skin was pale, and a sheen of sweat covered his forehead.

Mr. Yukimura frowned deeply. “It’s happening to you too. You’re getting sick – all of you are.”

“I don’t feel sick,” Kira said quickly, though her voice wavered.

“I think it’s affecting you differently,” her father replied, turning toward her. “Neurologically. I found your test answers in a pile with the others.” He held up her answer sheet – none of the bubbles filled in, just erratic scribbles all over the page.

Kira’s eyes widened. “I… I don’t remember doing that.”

Ren stepped closer, looking around at all of them. “We need to move. The longer we stay here, the worse it’s getting.”

Silver nodded, his gaze flicking to Scott, who looked faint, his eyes flashing briefly with red again. “We should probably get to the vault. Now,” Silver said firmly.

Everyone nodded in agreement, and they took off down the hall. Their footsteps pounded against the tile as they descended into the dimly lit basement, the air colder and heavier the further they went.

“Okay, so…” Stiles said, pulling out his flashlight as they scanned the space. “If there’s an entrance, it has to be – “

“Here,” he cut himself off, crouching beside a large shelving unit pushed against the wall. “Hey, guys? Over here.”

Scott and Silver hurried over, and together they grabbed the edges of the shelf and heaved it aside. Behind it, carved into the stone wall, was a familiar triskelion symbol – weathered, but unmistakable.

“Look at the cracks,” Stiles said, running his fingers along the edges. “It’s like the entrance outside. It only opens with claws – anyone’s claws, right?”

Scott turned toward Malia. “Malia, can you try?”

“Why me?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“I don’t have control,” Scott said quickly.

Malia let out a breath, stepping closer. “Okay, I’ll do it. But first…” She turned, crossing her arms, eyes darting between them. “Tell me what you’ve been hiding from me.”

The group froze, exchanging uneasy glances.

“I know you think you’re protecting me,” Malia continued, her voice rising slightly, “but I can handle it.”

Still, no one spoke.

“I know I’m on the list,” she said finally.

They all exhaled at once, tension breaking for a moment.

“Yes,” Scott admitted quietly.

Malia nodded slowly. “So how much?”

Scott blinked. “How much what?”

“How much am I worth?”

“Four million,” Scott said softly.

Malia looked down for a moment, her jaw tightening. Stiles stepped forward, concern etched across his face. “Are you okay?”

She nodded quickly, her expression hardening. “Yeah. Scott’s worth twenty – five. Kira’s six. They’ll come for you guys way before me.”

She turned back to the wall and flexed her claws. “Let’s get this over with.”

As her claws slid into the triskelion’s grooves, the stone shifted, grinding against itself. The lock turned, gears deep in the wall groaning to life.

The vault door creaked open, heavy and echoing, revealing the dark, cold space beyond.

“That’s progress,” Stiles muttered, half – relieved, half – nervous, as they all stared into the shadows waiting for them.

💰

Stiles sat cross – legged on the cold concrete floor, cradling Malia close to his chest. He absentmindedly played with her fingers, twisting them gently as she leaned against him, her breathing steady but tense. Scott perched on a metal box nearby, shoulders hunched, while Kira and Ren paced back and forth like coiled springs, the tension in the air almost palpable.

Silver lingered close to Scott, sitting on the edge of the box beside him. He brushed a hand through Scott’s messy hair, careful and attentive, whispering little jabs that made Scott crack a weak smile.

“You know,” Silver said softly, teasing, “this is usually my job – being the one who’s practically falling apart while everyone fusses over me. Now look at you, all dramatic.”

Scott let out a small groan, pressing his face into Silver’s shoulder. “Yeah, well… I’ve got to give you a break sometimes,” he mumbled.

Meanwhile, Stiles leaned back slightly, stretching his legs out and glancing over at the massive safe in the corner of the room. “You know this is where it all started,” he said, voice casual, almost nostalgic. “That’s where the money was. One hundred and seventeen million in bearer bonds.”

“How do you even… turn bearer bonds into cash?” Kira asked, raising an eyebrow.

Stiles shrugged, grinning faintly. “Bank,” he said simply, making them all pause. “They just let it sit here the whole time, collecting dust. You do know bearer bonds are basically extinct, right?”

“Why does it matter?” Kira asked, crossing her arms.

“You know how many problems that money could solve?” Stiles said, voice quieting as the reality of it settled over them. Kira raised a single brow, curious.

“For you?” she asked.

“For me, my dad… the Eichen House, MRI bills. They’re killing him,” Stiles admitted, his voice tight.

Scott rubbed his temples and added softly, “My mom… she does this thing where she writes down every item in our budget, every single cost, and then she calculates how long we have until… we lose the house.”

💰

Ren knelt on the cold floor, carefully helping Kira get comfortable. Her head rested against his shoulder, her body weak and starting to sway with the nausea. He adjusted his jacket under her head like a makeshift pillow, making sure she was as comfortable as possible.

Across from him, Silver sat on a low crate, one eye – or rather, the one that wasn’t cloudy – tracking Scott and Stiles by the vault door. His posture was tense, and Ren could see the quiet weight pressing down on him.

Ren pushed himself to his feet and walked over, sitting beside Silver. “You good?” he asked quietly.

Silver smirked faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Better than everyone else.”

Ren chuckled. “Look at who’s cracking jokes.”

For a few moments, they just sat in silence. Ren glanced back toward Kira, who had already started drifting off, her breathing even and shallow.

“The only thought running through my head,” Ren said quietly, “is that Kira and I always seem to get sick at the same time. Our parents barely survived it – it was absolute chaos. We were stubborn as hell.” He shook his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. “I remember one time… we both had fevers, and Dad made us drink Saenggang – cha. Then he wrapped us up in blankets so we could sweat it out. We looked like two little burritos, miserable but refusing to admit it.”

Silver let out a quiet chuckle, but it was fleeting.

Ren’s expression softened. “It’s weird, you know… knowing I’ll be healthy after this. That somehow… this ends, and we survive.”

Silver stared down at his hands, twisting them nervously. His mind kept drifting back to what he had seen – Kate, Michael – and he couldn’t shake the uncertainty gnawing at him. For Allison’s sake, he told himself Michael would never truly go back to being bad, but the doubt lingered, sharp and uncomfortable.

Ren nudged him gently. “Hey… are you okay?”

Silver looked up, meeting Ren’s concerned gaze, but the words caught in his throat. He forced a small nod, hiding the storm of worry swirling inside. “Yeah… I’m fine,” he whispered, though neither of them fully believed it.

💰

It was decided that someone needed to leave the vault and figure out a solution, since none of the supernatural teens were showing any signs of improvement.

Silver and Scott stepped slightly aside, the hum of tension between them. “You don’t have to do this,” Scott said quietly, eyes searching Silver’s.

Silver shook his head, adjusting his glasses. “I want to help, Scott. I can handle it.”

Scott exhaled, his hand brushing Silver’s shoulder. “I know you can… I just want you to be safe.” His voice was low but firm, carrying all the worry he usually kept buried.

Silver nodded, giving a small, reassuring smile before moving toward Stiles. The two shared a quick glance with Scott, who nodded back. “Stay safe,” Scott called after them, the words heavy with unspoken concern.

Ren appeared beside Silver just as they were about to leave, his expression determined. “I’m coming with you,” he said.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Ren crossed his arms, serious. “I’m not willing to be a chew toy if this thing makes them go feral.”

Silver and Stiles exchanged a quick look, a mixture of relief and amusement, before the three of them headed toward the exit, the weight of responsibility heavy on their shoulders.

💰

They barreled in together, breath coming fast, and Natalie’s eyes went straight to them. “Stiles, you don’t look well,” she said, the worry in her voice immediate. “Maybe you should lie down.”

Stiles shook his head too quickly; his face was pale and a sheen of sweat stood on his brow. Beside him Silver blinked slowly, pushing his glasses up over a damp nose. Ren kept his jaw tight, but his fingers trembled where they clutched his backpack strap. “We’re fine,” Stiles lied, voice thin. “Have you seen Mr. Yukimura?”

“He’s helping other students,” Natalie said. “He’s okay.” She hesitated, then added, “But you three  –  you look worse than fine. Are you sure – ?”

Silver glanced at Ren and Stiles; for the first time, the little ticks and quirks that usually marked them felt the same: a dull headache behind the eyes, a light – headed edge to every step, fingers that kept fumbling. He swallowed. “Is Coach the only adult who got sick?” he asked.

“As far as I know,” Natalie answered. She watched them, hand hovering like she wanted to reach out. Silver noticed Stiles’ pencil – scratching slowed; the notches on his fingertips had gone numb. Ren’s eyes flickered; for a heartbeat the color shifted unnaturally before settling back. Silver felt the same odd buzzing at the base of his skull.

They didn’t wait. “We have to check Coach’s office,” Stiles said, already moving. Silver and Ren followed, each step heavier than it should have been. In the doorway, Silver’s vision doubled for a second; he blinked it away and steadied himself against the frame. Ren’s breath came shallow; Stiles kept talking – more to sound normal than because he believed it – trying to map where they’d check first.

The office was a mess of papers and coffee mugs. Stiles rifled through stamped forms and found the red ink on Coach’s stamp turning black, smudging like it was dissolving. Silver held up a mug: black flecks dotted the rim. The same pattern repeated on a clipboard – words fading at the edges, as if the world itself were being leeched of color and clarity.

That was when the voice cut in from the doorway. “I was wondering how that idiot got sick.” Simon stood there with a gun, too calm for the situation. “I’m also wondering where your friends are. Visual confirmation  –  I get paid for proof.”

All three boys flinched; fatigue and fever made them move sluggishly in unison. Simon pushed them toward the locker room as if shepherding livestock. “Still a bit feverish, Mr. Stilinski?” he asked with cruel politeness. Stiles’ hands shook when he responded. Silver’s throat worked; Ren swallowed a dry cough.

Simon’s questions were threats. “The virus doesn’t kill humans,” he said. “You’ll get better. So why not tell me where they are? Let all of you live.”

Ren’s answer came out far too casual for the situation, a nervous smirk undercutting the fear. “I think I saw them in the library…”
“…Or, it might have been the cafeteria. It was definitely one of those two.”

Silver flinched, fingers tightening on the edge of the locker as if he could steady himself that way. The room felt smaller all at once.

Simon’s face hardened. “I’m going to count to three, and then I’m going to kill you.”

Stiles laughed – half a sound, a nervous reflex. “You think you can scare me?”

“No,” Simon said, slow and venomous. “I think I can kill you. I just thought the countdown would make it more exciting. So – “

“One.”

“Two.”

Blood spattered across Silver’s glasses. For a stunned second none of them moved; then Silver wiped the lens and realized he hadn’t been hit. The man in front of them staggered, then slumped – Agent McCall had stepped out of the shadows, gun smoking in his hand. “Where the hell did you come from?” Stiles breathed.

Agent McCall was breathless with urgency. “Melissa called – there may be an antidote. Reishi mushrooms. She said it’s in the vault.” He looked at them, really looked: their pale faces, the way their hands trembled the same. “You three  –  you’re showing the same symptoms. Neurological, systemic. You need that antidote.”

“Vault?” Stiles blurted. “Where?”

“In a jar on a shelf,” McCall said. “Told me to tell Scott. It’s in the Hale vault.” The three boys exchanged an exhausted glance before rushing to the vault.

“Hey, Scott? Scotty? In the vault, in there with you  –  it’s called reishi mushrooms. Scott? Scott, open the door! It’s in there with you! It’s in a jar, it’s on one of the shelves. Scott! Scott, can you hear me?” Stiles yelled as they pounded on the door.

A few tense seconds later, the door creaked open, and Scott stepped out, looking completely unharmed. Relief hit them like a wave. Silver didn’t hesitate, sprinting forward and pulling Scott into a tight hug. “Don’t you ever do that again,” he murmured, voice muffled against Scott’s shoulder.

Stiles spun toward Malia, panic still written across his face. “Hey, Malia?” he said, reaching out, placing a trembling hand on her shoulder.

Malia shook her head sharply, pushing his hand away. She stood, chest heaving, and thrust a piece of paper into his chest before walking past them, leaving the vault without a backward glance.