Chapter 51

Scott and Silver ran into the loft to see Derek on the ground with a cut on his shoulder while everyone was breathing heavily. There was no sign of Stiles or the Oni anywhere, “What happened?” Scott asked. “They disappeared. They literally just vanihed.” Allison answered and Stilinski sighed.

“And so did Stiles.”

🦊

Scott and Silver stepped into Scott’s room, the soft click of the door cutting them off from the rest of the house.

The air between them was still warm from earlier, charged with something that hadn’t quite faded. Silver’s eyes swept over the room, the cluttered desk, the messy bed, and the faint smell of laundry detergent mixed with Scott’s cologne.

He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of the chair. “I’m not sleeping in this,” he muttered, tugging at his shirt. Without bothering to ask, he crossed to Scott’s dresser and dug through until he found one of Scott’s worn t-shirts, soft and faded from years of use.

Scott turned to say something, but the words stuck when Silver pulled his shirt over his head. His gaze caught first on the scars across Silver’s back—some fine and faded, others thick and jagged, all of them speaking to pain Scott already knew the details of. The images of Silver’s past were still vivid in Scott’s mind—battles survived, close calls, moments that could have gone the other way. And then his eyes shifted to Silver’s face, to his left eye. Even scarred, it drew Scott in. He’d seen it before, of course—but here, in this quiet moment, it felt different.

Silver, sensing the weight of the silence, glanced over his shoulder with a small smirk. “If you keep staring like that, I’m gonna start charging you.”

Scott didn’t answer the joke. “I just… I don’t know how you made it through all of that.” His voice was quieter than before.

Silver’s smirk faded. “Luck. Stubbornness. And maybe a little bit of spite.” Instead of pulling the shirt on, he let it drop back onto the dresser.

“Does it bother you?”

Scott shook his head, voice low and rough. “No. It… matters.”

His hand slid slowly over Silver’s bare shoulder, fingertips finding one of the longer scars. He traced it with deliberate care, thumb following the raised edge like he was committing it to memory. Then he leaned in, lips brushing the mark—soft at first, then firmer—before moving to the next, his mouth leaving a trail of heat across Silver’s skin.

Silver’s breath caught the sharp reply he’d been ready to fire, dissolving into a low, involuntary sound. His eyes drifted shut, letting Scott’s touch sink into him.

Scott’s other hand moved lower, spanning the small of Silver’s back, pulling him closer until they were chest to chest, heat sparking between them. Silver turned, catching Scott’s mouth in a kiss that started slow but deepened fast—tongues meeting, teeth grazing, the kind of kiss that made the air in the room feel too thick to breathe.

Scott’s hand slid to the back of Silver’s neck, keeping him close, while the other dragged down over his ribs and along the curve of his waist before gripping his hip hard enough to pull a gasp from him. Silver’s fingers slid under Scott’s shirt, nails scraping lightly against warm skin, tracing the ridges of muscle before curling at his back.

They moved together, stumbling toward the desk until the edge pressed against the backs of Silver’s thighs. Scott stepped in closer, crowding him, deepening the kiss until Silver’s head tipped back against the pressure. Scott’s mouth left his only to trail down the side of his throat, teeth grazing before sucking gently at the pulse point—enough to make Silver’s knees weaken.

Silver’s hands found the hem of Scott’s shirt, tugging it up just enough for his palms to slide fully across heated skin. Scott’s answering groan vibrated against his throat before he kissed him again, harder this time, like letting go wasn’t an option.

Then Silver’s elbow clipped the lamp. It wobbled before crashing to the floor. Both froze for half a second, breathing hard.

Silver’s mouth curved into a breathless grin. “In my defense,” he murmured against Scott’s lips, “it was on my left.”

Scott shook his head, grinning. “You’re impossible.” But the smile faltered slightly when his eyes searched Silver’s face, lingering a little too long on his scars and the empty space where his left eye had once been.

Silver tilted his head. “Are you okay?”

Scott nodded, though there was a shadow in his gaze. “Just… worried about Stiles. And maybe a little about you.”

Silver’s expression softened. “We’ll save him. We always figure it out.”

Scott’s lips quirked into a small, reluctant smile. “I know.”

Silver reached up, brushing an eyelash from Scott’s cheek, their eyes holding each other’s for a long moment before Silver murmured, “We should sleep before we’re completely useless tomorrow.”

Scott didn’t argue. He simply took Silver’s hand and led him to the bed. They lay down together without breaking contact—Silver on his side, shirtless, Scott fitting himself against his back. His arm wrapped firmly around Silver’s waist, chest pressed to the curve of his spine like he was trying to anchor him in place.

Scott buried his face in the back of Silver’s shoulder, breathing him in. His fingertips traced slow, idle patterns over the scars he could reach, memorizing each one like a secret he intended to keep forever. He could feel Silver’s heartbeat through his back, steady and grounding, and it made something deep in Scott’s chest ache with a mix of love and fear.

Almost without thinking, he pressed a lingering kiss to one of the scars near Silver’s shoulder blade. His hold tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to say I’m here. Even after Silver’s breathing evened out into sleep, Scott stayed awake a while longer, holding him like keeping him close was the only way to keep the world from taking him away.

🦊

“Thanks for picking me up,” Silver said, eyes forward.

Michael’s mouth curved into an amused grin. “Yeah, nothing like picking up my ex-boyfriend from his current boyfriend’s place. Romantic, right?”

Silver smirked faintly. “You do realize you’re dating my sister now, right?”

Michael glanced at him with a half-laugh. “Oh, I’m very aware. Doesn’t mean I don’t still have a soft spot for you.”

A few seconds passed in silence, only the low hum of the tires filling the car. Then Michael asked, “Does he even know you left?”

Silver shrugged. “Don’t care if he does.”

Michael’s eyes flicked toward him briefly, brow furrowing. Silver continued before he could say anything. “He needs to focus on Stiles. I can’t have him wasting energy worrying about me—especially if I’m not there fighting with him.”

That’s when Michael let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “And there it is.”

Silver frowned. “What?”

“This,” Michael said, one hand gesturing vaguely between them. “This is what you do, Silver. I know you. At one point, we did love each other, so don’t bullshit me. You disappear, push people away, tell yourself it’s for their own good—like you’re some noble martyr. And for what? To feel like you’re in control?”

Silver’s jaw tightened. “It’s not like that.”

Michael shook his head, eyes still on the road. “Then what is it? What are we doing right now?”

Silver’s hand curled into a fist against his knee, but he didn’t answer. He stared out the passenger window, letting the passing streetlights strobe across his face.

Michael’s grip on the steering wheel loosened, his voice losing its edge. “I care about you, you know that? I may not say it enough, but I do. And I don’t know how I’d feel if Allison pulled something like this—just took off, made decisions for me without letting me in. It would kill me, Silver.”

Silver’s gaze stayed fixed on the glass, but his shoulders shifted at the words.

Michael exhaled slowly. “You’re not as disposable as you think you are. Not to your sister. Not to me. Not to Scott.”

For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Silver glanced over at him, expression unreadable but softer than before. “…Thanks,” he said quietly, and it wasn’t just for the ride.

Michael gave a small nod, keeping his eyes on the road, but there was the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

🦊

Isaac stepped quietly into the Heart apartment, the soft click of the door breaking the stillness. The scent of coffee and faint vanilla lingered in the air, the warm glow of a single lamp casting a cozy light over the room. At the kitchen table, Rachel Heart sat with her laptop open, papers scattered beside her. Her hair was loosely tied back, reading glasses perched on her nose as she focused intently on the screen. When she looked up, surprise flickered across her face.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her gaze sweeping over him quickly before her tone sharpened. “You didn’t just walk out of the hospital, did you?”

Isaac shrugged, letting his bag fall onto the couch. “It’s okay. I feel a lot better. All healed.” He crossed the kitchen, leaning on the counter. “What are you doing?”

Rachel’s hands paused over the keyboard. She hesitated before slowly closing the laptop, her fingers resting on the lid as though she needed the weight of it for courage. “I didn’t want to say anything until this was over… but I’ve been saving money. I found a small house. Nothing extravagant, but… it’s ours. I want you and Michael to have stability. A real home.”

“Is that a good idea?” Isaac asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I think so,” she replied softly. “After Thomas died, and we went to France, I kept thinking about it. About buying a place where Michael could have something resembling a normal life. And now… you too.” She glanced down, tracing the rim of her coffee mug with her finger. “We’ve been moving and fighting and surviving for so long, Isaac. I don’t want that to be the only thing you know.”

🦊

Isaac’s brows furrowed. “Why do you have that? I thought your mom said you guys were done with hunting.”

“She’s done hunting. She found a hobby, a job and she’s happy.” Michael said simply. “I’m only after the bad guys. Besides, after everything that’s happened…”

Isaac stepped closer, eyes narrowing at the bag. “And what exactly counts as ‘bad guys’ in your book?”

Isaac pulled out an arrow, slowly spinning it between his fingers. “You should use them. There’s still a few of us out there who are dangerous… like the twins.”

“I thought Scott said we were giving them a second chance,” Michael said, frowning.

“They don’t deserve it.” Isaac’s tone was flat, his eyes sharp.

Isaac raised a brow. “Since when do you listen to Scott?”

Michael gave a short laugh. “Things are different now. It doesn’t have to be like that anymore. If anything, I’m the poster child for this group accepting people who once tried to kill them.”

Isaac shook his head slowly. “I had a feeling you’d say something like that.”

Before Michael could react, Isaac moved fast—grabbing him by the collar and slamming him back. Michael staggered but didn’t strike back, just blocking blows and trying to get a word in.

“Isaac—wait—”

A hard hit to the head cut him off. The room spun, then went dark.

Isaac caught the bag before it hit the floor, flicked off Michael’s phone, and walked out without looking back.

🦊

Silver stepped out of his room, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders, only to freeze when he spotted Allison in the hallway. She was moving quickly, her hands fumbling as she grabbed her bow, a quiver of arrows, and her phone from the counter. Her movements were frantic, the kind that came when panic was threatening to spill over.

“Allison? What are you doing?” Silver asked, his tone firm enough to get her attention.

She turned to him, and that’s when he saw the tears in her eyes. “I—I can’t get a hold of Michael,” she stammered, her voice trembling. “His phone’s going straight to voicemail. I gotta find him.”

Her words tumbled out faster and faster, and Silver’s own chest tightened. He crossed the space between them in an instant, setting aside whatever he’d been holding. “Breathe, Allison. Just—breathe. Okay? We’ll find him.”

She shook her head, gripping his arm before he could move past her. “I can’t ask you to do this. Not for us.”

Silver exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re my sister,” he said, his voice low but steady. “And you love him. That’s all I need to know. Have you checked his apartment yet?”

She shook her head, already slinging her bow over her shoulder.

That was all the answer he needed. Together, they rushed to the Heart apartment, Silver taking the stairs two at a time while Allison was right on his heels. When they reached the door, Silver banged his fist against it, his voice sharp. “Michael!” Allison joined in, pounding harder, calling his name. The doorknob rattled, but it didn’t turn.

“Do you have a key?” Silver asked quickly.

“In the plant,” Allison said without hesitation, pointing to the small pot by the door.

Silver crouched, digging his fingers through the soil until they hit the cold metal of the spare key. He pulled it free, jammed it into the lock, and the door swung open.

They stepped inside to find Michael sprawled on the living room floor, groaning faintly. Allison’s heart leapt into her throat as she ran to him, kneeling beside him and gently shaking his shoulder. “Mikey,” she said softly, voice breaking. “Hey—hey, it’s me.”

His eyes blinked open slowly, focusing on her face. “I’m fine, Liss,” he murmured hoarsely, though the bruise forming along his jaw said otherwise. He tried to push himself up, wincing. “Where’s Isaac?”

Silver frowned. “He’s not at the hospital?”

Michael shook his head. “No. He was here earlier… he did this.”

Allison’s expression hardened, glancing briefly at her brother before turning back to Michael. “Okay—do you know where he went?”

Michael leaned back against the couch, rubbing the side of his head. “He kept going on about the twins. Said they didn’t deserve a second chance. Then he left.”

“You don’t think he’s going to try to kill them… do you?” Silver asked, though there was already a tense edge to his voice, like he knew the answer.

Michael’s gaze dropped. “I hope not,” he admitted quietly. “But we can’t take that chance.”

Allison nodded, determination sharpening her features. “Then we find him. Now.”

Silver gave one last look at Michael, scanning him to make sure he was steady on his feet, before turning toward the door. “Let’s move.”

The urgency in the air was unmistakable—the three of them knew that if Isaac was headed for the twins, every second mattered.

🦊

Isaac rifled through Coach’s cluttered desk, tossing aside papers and old whistle lanyards until his fingers closed around a small silver lighter. His breathing was ragged, muttering to himself as if each word kept him moving.
“Come on, Coach… you gotta have a lighter…”

Behind him, the faint sound of the twins—Ethan and Aiden—snoring echoed from the locker room benches. They were sprawled out, utterly unaware. Isaac’s eyes were locked on the lighter in his hand as if it were a weapon in itself.

“I’m gonna burn it down… for Erica… for Boyd…” His voice cracked, but his hands didn’t slow.

From under the desk, he pulled out a glass bottle half-filled with gasoline, a makeshift Molotov cocktail he’d hidden away. The cloth wick stuck out the top like a fuse waiting to be sparked. He flicked the lighter once, twice, the flame catching on the cloth.
“For everyone.”

Isaac took a step toward the door, the flickering light reflecting in his eyes. “I’m gonna burn it. I’m gonna burn it.”

In a flash of steel, something sliced through the air—shhhk!—and the flaming cloth was severed, falling harmlessly to the floor. Isaac blinked, startled, and turned to see Kira standing there, her katana poised in a firm grip.

“Nice sword,” he muttered, a crooked smirk forming despite his ragged breathing. He let the Molotov drop and began advancing on her.

Kira instinctively backed up, blade raised, when Allison came in from the side. Without hesitation, she brought the butt of her crossbow down across the back of Isaac’s head. The impact sent him sprawling forward onto the floor.

Before Kira could lower her weapon, Silver was suddenly there, stepping between her and Allison, his eyes locked on Isaac’s shifting, twitching form.

“Isaac,” Silver said evenly.

The only response was a low, feral growl as Isaac’s features shifted—his eyes glowing, fangs bared, claws extending. His posture was no longer human.

“Move,” Michael’s voice came from behind them, tense but steady as he joined Silver and Allison, his gaze darting between Isaac and the twins who were starting to stir.

The three backed into Coach’s office as the twins—now fully awake—stood and began growling at Isaac. The air was electric with tension. Silver swung the door shut and with a sharp motion of his hand, the heavy desk scraped across the floor to block the entrance.

“Was that a good idea?” Kira asked from beside Ren, who had just slipped in quietly, armed with twin short swords.

“Probably not,” Allison admitted.

They peered through the narrow glass panel in the door. Outside, Isaac turned slowly to face the twins, snarling. The twins roared back, and the clash began in an explosion of movement—claws, teeth, and fists meeting with sickening thuds.

“They’re not gonna kill each other, are they?” Ren asked, his grip tightening on his weapons.

“I think they’re definitely going to try,” Silver muttered, eyes scanning for a break in the chaos.

The fight spilled closer, Isaac being slammed against the office door hard enough to crack the glass.

Moments later, they pushed the desk aside and stepped into the locker room. Allison turned to Silver, Michael, Kira, and Ren.
“Remember… try not to kill them.”

“I was just going to try to stay alive,” Kira replied dryly.

“That works too,” Silver said, stepping forward beside Allison while Michael took her flank.

Kira darted toward Ethan, her katana flashing as she slashed across his chest. He roared and stumbled back. Silver’s eyes locked on Isaac advancing toward him.
“You’re going to feel so bad about this later,” Silver said before twisting his hand sharply. Isaac was hurled back into a row of lockers, denting the metal.

Aiden lunged for Allison, but Michael shoved her back, taking the hit himself before shoving Aiden away. Allison recovered quickly, firing a bolt into Aiden’s shoulder—but he simply yanked it out and kept coming.

“Liss, reload!” Michael barked, stepping in front of her again.

Across the room, Kira called out, “Allison!” She tossed her katana toward her. Allison caught it cleanly, letting her crossbow drop into Kira’s hands without missing a step.

Ren moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Kira, Silver positioned between them and Allison on his right, Michael tight at Allison’s side. The three wolves circled them, growls low and rumbling. Silver lifted his hands, a faint energy building in the air—

And then, without warning, all three werewolves dropped to the ground. Blood trickled from their mouths, their bodies unmoving.

Silence fell heavy over the locker room.

Silver looked back at Allison, Michael, Kira, and Ren, his brow furrowed.