Chapter 31
Allison broke the silence, her voice soft but tense. “She tried to kill you.”
Scott hesitated, glancing first at her, then at Silver, both watching him expectantly.
“Uh… yeah. Yeah,” Scott answered awkwardly.
Silver stopped and turned sharply, his voice raw, but not angry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Scott stumbled over his words. “I was going to. I swear. I just… I’ll tell you everything, okay? Anything you want to know. Just—”
Silver cut him off, voice hardening. “Then tell me why.”
Scott met his gaze, seeing the hurt beneath the surface — the ache buried under Silver’s armor. “Because I couldn’t let that be the last thing you remembered about her.”
Silver’s mouth tightened. His mother had never been kind to him — not really. But she was still his mother. And now she was gone.
“You don’t get to decide that,” Silver said coldly.
Michael stepped closer, arms crossed, voice calm but firm. “He wasn’t trying to protect her, Silver. He was trying to protect you.”
🌕
Silver paced anxiously by his car at the edge of the woods, Michael and Allison standing nearby, watching him closely. The tension hung thick in the air.
Michael broke the silence, his voice firm. “We should go home.”
Silver didn’t look at him. “You can. I’m not.”
Allison’s tone softened, but her words carried strength. “Silver, you don’t have to prove anything. Not to Derek. Not to Scott. Not to any of them.”
Silver snapped back, voice sharp and defensive. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m trying to help. There’s a difference.”
Michael stepped forward, frustration evident. “You’ve already done enough! You almost died last time—”
Silver cut him off coldly. “Yeah? And what did that teach me?”
“We’re trying to protect you,” Allison said quietly, her eyes searching his.
Michael cursed under his breath and began pacing, while Allison stayed still, watching Silver with concern.
“This isn’t like before, Silver,” Allison continued. “It’s the full moon. Boyd and Cora—whatever’s left of them right now—it’s not human. They’ll rip through anything that gets in their way.”
Silver’s voice dropped low, almost deadly. “Then I want to be in their way.”
Michael’s anger flared. “You’re not a werewolf! You don’t heal! You don’t have claws or fangs or backup! You’re just—”
“Say it,” Silver challenged, his quiet voice cutting sharper than any shout.
Michael hesitated, Allison holding her breath beside him.
“Say it,” Silver repeated, eyes locked on Michael. “Say I’m weak. Say I’m a liability.”
Michael’s voice cracked. “I’m saying we can’t lose you.”
A long silence stretched between them.
Then Silver’s voice softened, but the edge remained. “You already did. The moment you decided I wasn’t strong enough to fight my own battles.”
“You’re not thinking clearly,” Allison said firmly.
“No,” Silver countered. “For once, I am.”
He stepped past them, moving toward the woods. Michael quickly blocked his path.
“Where are you even going?”
Suddenly, Scott’s voice cut through the moment.
“Michael—”
They all turned to see Scott standing there, eyes steady on Michael.
“I need your help.”
Michael froze, surprised. Silver’s expression flickered — torn between concern and pride.
🌕
Grocery bags lay scattered across the cracked pavement near the open trunk of an SUV. Rachel Heart crouched beside a broken carton of eggs, muttering under her breath, while Chris Argent stood close by, his gaze scanning the parking lot with sharp intensity. The humid night air felt thick with tension.
Rachel sighed dryly, “Of course it had to be the eggs…”
Footsteps approached from the far end—cautious and deliberate. Scott and Michael appeared, Scott’s nervous energy palpable, Michael’s hands raised casually, as if this wasn’t his first time stepping into a heated moment.
Argent’s voice was flat. “You’re kidding.”
Rachel’s eyes flicked toward her son, her voice tense. “Michael? I thought you were with Allison.”
Michael replied pointedly, “She’s with Silver. In the car.”
Argent’s tone shifted, skeptical. “Let me guess. You need help.”
He scoffed. “First of all, why would I care about anyone related to Derek?”
Rachel smirked slightly at Argent. “Second, I don’t even know this kid Boyd… I don’t even know his last name.”
Michael stepped forward. “Boyd is his last name.”
Argent squinted. “…What’s his first name?”
Scott answered, “Vernon.”
Argent shrugged. “Eh.”
Michael caught the subtle movement of Argent’s hand, still close to his holstered weapon.
Scott, uneasy, asked, “Also, just curious… is there a reason the gun’s still kinda… pointed at me?”
Argent sighed. “There’s probably still some part of me that wants to shoot you.”
Scott nodded, understanding. “Yeah. I get that.”
Rachel’s voice was low but tense. “What do you want, Scott?”
Scott looked them both in the eyes. “We need your help. Boyd and Cora are out there. It’s the full moon. They’ve already killed someone.”
Rachel crossed her arms. “And you thought bringing him—” she gestured toward Michael — “—was a good idea?”
Michael answered firmly, “He wants to help. And so do I.”
Scott added, “We’re not trying to drag you both back into a war. But people are going to die unless someone steps in. You know how to track werewolves without killing them. We don’t.”
Rachel sighed, folding her arms tighter. “You think we haven’t lost enough already?”
Argent’s voice hardened. “Scott, I watched my father manipulate my daughter until she nearly became a killer. I almost lost my son. Your world… tore mine apart. My wife, my sister, my family—gone. Why would I ever step back into that?”
Scott’s tone was serious, unwavering. “Because people are going to die. And because deep down, you don’t want that on your conscience either.”
Argent stared at Scott for a long, heavy moment. Rachel remained still, her expression unreadable.
Finally, Argent spoke bluntly, “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”
Scott cleared his throat, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. “Okay. But… could you maybe do me just one tiny, little favor?”
Rachel exchanged a glance with Argent. “What kind of favor?”
🌕
The car hummed steadily down a dimly lit road, its headlights slicing through the thick fog ahead. Chris Argent gripped the wheel, his jaw tight, while Rachel Heart sat rigid beside him, arms folded with fingers twitching nervously. In the backseat, Scott leaned forward, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Michael sat silently beside him, tension radiating from his clenched jaw.
“Left or straight?” Argent asked gruffly.
Scott answered quickly, “Left. Sorry—it’s right around the corner. That parking lot there.”
Rachel squinted through the windshield as the old building came into view—Beacon Hills’ abandoned swimming facility, long shuttered and half-forgotten.
Scott pointed, “Yeah, just a little further up—right there.”
The SUV slowed, pulling into the lot where ambulances and police cars had gathered, their flashing lights painting the scene in urgent red and blue. Officers clustered near a covered body.
“They did this? Boyd and…” Argent’s voice cut off as his eyes locked on the pool entrance.
Scott’s tone dropped solemn. “Cora.”
Argent exhaled sharply, the weight of the news pressing down. Michael shifted in his seat, his jaw clenched tightly.
“Jesus…” Argent muttered bitterly.
Rachel finally spoke, her voice sharp and raw. “They’re kids. Turned into monsters.”
A heavy silence settled over the car.
Argent’s voice grew low and measured. “Where’s the last place you saw them?”
🌕
The forest stood silent, trees unmoving, but the tension in the air was electric. Broken branches and deep claw marks scarred the forest floor, evidence of a violent struggle. Gathered in a loose circle were Scott, Isaac, Derek, Michael, Allison, Silver, Rachel Heart—and Chris Argent, who surveyed the ground with a critical eye.
“You’re tracking them by print?” Argent asked the group.
Scott nodded. “Trying to.”
Argent shook his head with a wry smile. “Then you’ve been wasting your time. There’s only one creature on Earth that can visually track footprints—and that’s man. And if you’re not trained like me, you wouldn’t know this print is Boyd’s, and these—”
Isaac cut in, “Are Cora’s?”
Argent pointed sharply. “Nope. They’re yours.”
Silver, crouched nearby with arms crossed, let out a dry chuckle. “Guess we’re not exactly making CSI proud.”
Isaac glanced down, realizing he’d trampled over the very tracks they were trying to follow.
Rachel stepped forward beside Argent. “Prints are useless when half the team’s shaking from moonlight.”
“Exactly,” Argent agreed. “I know half your energy’s being spent resisting your urges under the full moon. But that puts you at a severe disadvantage against those who’ve given in. Boyd and Cora? They’re pedal to the floor. You’re barely touching the gas.”
Silver’s voice cut through the quiet, steady and clear. “So what do we do? Just wait to get ripped in half?”
Derek looked to Argent. “We need a strategy.”
Argent gestured at the terrain around them. “Focus on your sense of smell. Real wolves can track prey for up to a hundred miles a day by scent. A trained hunter can use scent to track them too. If the wind’s right, wolves can track scent up to two miles away—which means we can draw them in, or set a trap.”
Allison spoke quietly but with determination. “Then we draw them to us. We lead them in.”
Michael added, “Or we trap them. Make them think we’re chasing them when we’re actually cornering them.”
Argent nodded approvingly. “Good thinking. The full moon gives us one advantage—they’ll have a higher heat signature. That makes them easier to spot with infrared.”
He tossed a pair of thermal goggles to Silver and Derek.
Derek caught his with a smirk. “Thanks, but I’ve got my own.” His eyes flashed red in the darkness.
Silver deadpanned, “We get it. You’re built different.”
Rachel addressed the group firmly. “Remember, we’re not hunting wild animals. Underneath those urges are two human beings. Intelligent, tactical—and dangerous.”
Argent added quietly, “They’ll remember how to mask their scent. How to cover their tracks. How to survive.”
Michael whispered softly, almost to himself, “So we have to survive harder.”
The group fell into a tense, focused silence, the plan finally taking shape. Above them, the full moon began to rise through the branches, casting pale light on the forest floor.
🌕
“When’s the last time you saw your sister?” Argent asked Derek.
“Nine years. I thought she died in the fire,” Derek replied quietly.
Argent turned to Derek again. “Do you feel like you have a lock on her scent?”
Derek shook his head. “No.”
Scott chimed in, “How confident are you in your skills?”
“Honestly,” Scott admitted, “most of the time, I’m trying not to think about all the things I can smell.”
Argent’s expression grew serious. “All right. The problem is when they breach the woods and hit the residential area. Once they’re past the high school, they’re right in the middle of Beacon Hills.”
Isaac asked, “They’re not gonna kill everything they see, are they?”
“No,” Argent said firmly. “But there is an important difference to recognize. Wolves hunt for food. At a certain point, they get full. But Boyd and Cora are hunting for the pleasure of the kill—for some primal, apex predatory satisfaction that comes from ripping warm bodies to bloody shreds. And who knows when that need gets satiated?”
Scott’s voice was steady but concerned. “We can’t kill them.”
Rachel looked uneasy. “What if we can’t catch them?”
Argent considered this. “Then maybe we just need to contain them. There’s no one in the school at night, is there?”
Derek frowned. “You want to trap them inside?”
Argent nodded. “If there’s somewhere with a strong enough door, no windows or access to the outside.”
Isaac spoke up. “What about the boiler room? It’s just one big steel door.”
Argent glanced around. “You sure the school’s empty?”
Michael shrugged. “It has to be. Who would be there this late at night?”
🌕
“These are ultrasonic emitters,” Argent explained, holding one up. “One of the tools we use to corral werewolves—pushing them in the direction we want them to run.” He pressed the button in the middle, activating it. “It gives off a high-pitched frequency that only they can hear.”
Scott, Derek, and Isaac immediately covered their ears, grimacing at the sharp sound.
Argent switched it off and stood, handing out more devices. “These are gonna drive them to the school,” Derek asked, eyeing the emitters.
“And then it’s up to you to get them into the basement,” Argent said firmly.
Isaac stepped forward, folding his arms. “Does anyone else want to rethink the plan where we just, uh, kill them?”
Michael shot a sharp glance at Isaac but grabbed an emitter. “It’s going to work.”
Silver nodded, confidence steady. “It’ll work.”
🌕
Isaac, Scott, and Michael reached the school doors together, exchanging quick glances before pushing them open. The dark, empty hallways of Beacon Hills High stretched ahead, silent and waiting.
Nearby, Argent watched with Allison and Silver. “Do you see that?” Argent asked, pointing.
Silver followed his gaze. “Yeah, it’s a firefly.”
“No, no, I know it—”
“What?” Allison prompted.
“It’s unusual,” Argent explained, eyes fixed on the tiny glowing insect. “California fireflies aren’t bioluminescent.” Rachel tells her. Michael and Silver joined the group’s quiet fascination as the firefly’s light pulsed softly.
“Does that mean something?” Scott asked just before a howl shattered the quiet, signaling that Boyd and Cora were close.
“Showtime,” Silver muttered under his breath.
He stepped aside as Boyd and Cora surged toward the school, closing in behind Isaac. Argent honked his horn sharply, watching the creatures leap onto the roof.
“Oh great,” Silver muttered, eyes narrowing.
“The red doors — someone needs to get them open,” Argent said, eyes fixed on Cora and Boyd running across the school’s rooftop.
Without hesitation, Derek sprinted inside.
Michael grabbed the ultrasonic emitter from Argent. “I’ll handle driving them inside.”
Isaac shook his head, determination flashing in his eyes. “No, I’m faster.”
Michael chuckled but raised an eyebrow. “How do we know you won’t lose control?”
Isaac shot back calmly, “I could ask you the same thing.”
“Race you,” Michael said with a grin, taking off down the hall. Isaac immediately followed.
Silver watched the two run off, then looked to his sister, his dad, and Rachel. “So… what now?” he asked.
🌕
The plan the four of them came up with was simple: follow Boyd and Cora into the school and play a dangerous game of tag. Silver thought grimly as he stood next to Argent, who held an electrified wand ready.
“Come and get us,” Derek taunted before he, Scott, Silver, and Michael took off. They raced down the stairs to the right, heading into the boiler room. The four hid in the shadows, Silver clutching a fire extinguisher tightly in his hands.
As soon as Boyd and Cora appeared, Silver didn’t hesitate — he blasted the extinguisher, sending a cloud of foam and powder that temporarily blinded the creatures.
Silver exchanged a quick glance with Derek and Scott as he dropped the extinguisher and bolted out of the room. Derek slammed the heavy steel door shut behind him and blocked it firmly.
Silver took a breath, leaning against the wall next to Scott, his heart pounding. They listened to the pounding and snarling on the other side of the door until the noise stopped abruptly.
“Did that just seriously work?” Silver groaned, rubbing his face.
“It worked,” Derek confirmed, voice calm but tired.
Scott squeezed Silver’s shoulder, planting a soft kiss on his temple. Silver smiled weakly as Derek sank to the floor nearby. Scott crouched by the door, pressing his ear against the cold metal.
“What are you hearing?” Derek asked.
“Heartbeats,” Scott replied.
“Both of them?” Silver asked, looking up.
“Actually… three,” Scott said quietly.
Derek stepped forward, grasping the handle.
“Close the door behind me. Keep it shut,” Derek ordered.
Scott shot Derek a warning look. “You go in there alone, and you’re either going to kill them, or they kill you.”
“That’s why I’m going alone,” Derek said, before flinging the door open and charging inside.
Silver let out a breath as Scott slammed the door shut. “Did we seriously let him do that?” But the silence didn’t last long.
🌕
Isaac blinked hard, struggling to push the words out. “The sun’s coming up,” he muttered quietly, as if the reality hadn’t fully settled in yet.
Then it hit him.
His voice cracked, swelling into a desperate shout as he stumbled forward. “Scott! The sun’s coming up!”
He rushed through the dim halls, barely slowing as he collided with Michael.
“Scott!”
Without missing a beat, the two boys took off together, racing toward the distant sound of screaming.
🌕
Scott burst through the boiler room doors after Derek, with Silver, Isaac and Michael close behind.
They found Derek kneeling on the floor, his body cut and bruised, facing Boyd and Cora.
They found Derek kneeling on the floor, his body cut and bruised, facing Boyd and Cora.
The room was still until Derek looked up, panting.
“There’s a teacher… I’ll get her,” Derek said.
Silver exchanged a grim look with Michael.
“Get them out of here,” Derek said without hesitation.
Michael and Scott nodded, while Silver wasted no time running toward Boyd alongside Scott, ready for whatever came next.
🌕
The room was dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of laptop screens and the faded pages of old hunter journals spread across the table. Michael flipped through the worn pages, his face tightening with each turn. Allison paced near the window, arms crossed, while Silver leaned silently against the doorframe, listening intently.
Finally, Silver broke the silence. “So… Boyd and Cora might not have killed anyone?”
Michael didn’t look up. “You’re gonna wish they did.”
Silver raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Michael’s voice was grim. “Because what’s really happening? It’s worse.”
He slid a hunter’s journal toward them. Allison leaned in to read.
“One of the girls they found — Emily — she was out in the woods. Missing for two days. I cross-referenced the other victims. The girl Stiles knew. That guy Lydia found at the pool…” He paused, looking between them. “All three were virgins.”
“That’s specific,” Silver said flatly.
“All disturbing,” Allison added quietly.
Michael nodded. “They’re going to find the same pattern. All three will have identical injuries — strangled, throat slashed, skull trauma. It’s called the Three-Fold Death.”
“Not exactly subtle,” Silver remarked.
“All right, but if these aren’t just random attacks… what are they?” Allison asked.
Michael closed the book and fixed them both with a steady gaze. “Sacrifices. Human sacrifices.”
The room fell silent, the weight of the word hanging heavy between them.
After a pause, Silver muttered dryly, “And here I thought our lives couldn’t get any weirder.”
Allison whispered, “Welcome back to Beacon Hills.”