Chapter 69

Silver stood in the quiet hallway of Eichen House, the distant echoes of screams and muffled cries threading through the air like a low, constant hum. Pixieglass separated him from Michael, who sat on the other side in his cell, the dim fluorescent light casting long shadows across his face.

“I don’t know,” Michael said casually, tilting his head. “Go fish.”

“Michael,” Silver said, his voice sharper this time, a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

Michael shrugged, leaning back against the cold wall. “Why do you assume I was the one who spilled the beans about your boyfriend?”

Silver’s jaw tightened. “You tried to kill us.”

“Your story may be happy for you,” Michael replied, smirking, “but it’s embarrassing for me. So I don’t really go around talking about my life in Beacon Hills.”

Silver’s eyes narrowed. “Has your mom visited you yet?”

Michael arched an eyebrow. “Have you told Scott about our little secret meetings yet?”

Silver swallowed hard, throwing his marked hand on the glass. “What did Kate do to me? You have to know something.”

Michael chuckled softly, the sound echoing eerily through the hall. “Your life is ironic, Silver. Maybe she gave you back your sight. I think Kate… actually helped you.”

Silver shook his head, tension coiling in his shoulders, and yanked his hand back from the glass. His fingers hovered over the cold surface, reluctant to let go, as if something unseen was pulling him closer. Frustration flashed across his face, sharp, impatient, and raw.

Michael’s eyes glinted, amusement curling at the edges, something predatory lurking beneath. “Oh… something else happened, didn’t it?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but the words slithered through the air like a blade. “Was someone else… looking for Scott, Silver?”

Silver’s brow furrowed, a shiver crawling down his spine despite himself. “Scott… and Stiles… they knew him when they were kids,” he said cautiously, his words clipped.

Michael leaned closer, the glass between them reflecting a shadow that seemed to twitch and move on its own. A slow smile curved his lips, teasing, chilling. “Funny… how the past likes to crawl back into the light. Faces you thought were gone. Names you hoped you’d forget… they come back when you least expect them.”

He tapped a finger lightly on the glass, the sound like nails on a coffin. “Curiosity, Silver… it’s such a dangerous little thing, isn’t it? Always tempting you… always whispering secrets you might not survive to hear.”

Silver swallowed hard, a knot of unease tightening in his chest. The glass seemed darker now, more alive, more like a barrier—and a warning—between him and what he didn’t want to find out.

Before Silver could respond, an orderly’s voice cut through the tension. “Time’s up.”

Michael waved casually as Silver stepped back, the smirk never leaving his face. “Until next time,” he said, almost sing-song.

Outside, rain fell in heavy, icy sheets, hammering the pavement and splashing against the tires of parked cars. The hospital loomed behind Silver like a dark, wet shadow. He shoved his hood tighter around his head and hurried toward the parked SUV where his father waited.

Chris Argent sat in the driver’s seat, hands resting loosely on the wheel, eyes scanning the entrance as though expecting someone to follow Silver out.

Silver pulled open the passenger door, climbed in, and shut it with a soft thud. Cold water dripped from his clothes onto the floor mats. He didn’t look at his father—didn’t trust himself to.

Chris gave him a moment before speaking.

“Everything go okay?” he asked quietly, voice gentle but probing.

Silver swallowed hard.
“Yeah.”

The lie was thin. Almost translucent. Chris saw right through it.

He didn’t push. Didn’t sigh. He simply let the silence stretch between them, letting Silver decide whether to fill it.

Finally, Chris tried—not with suspicion, but with worry.

“You know you don’t have to go to him for answers.” His voice was soft, almost pleading. “If something’s wrong… you can come to me. We can figure it out together.”

Silver clenched his jaw, staring at the rain running in crooked lines down the windshield.

Silver’s voice came out small at first. “I just… I don’t want this.” He forced himself to breathe, to get the words out. “I don’t want to be supernatural.”

The confession hung in the air like something fragile and dangerous.

Chris turned toward him fully, face softening in a way he saved only for moments like this—when his son was breaking and trying not to.

“Arthur…”

But Silver couldn’t stop now. Once the dam cracked, the water rushed through.

“I didn’t ask for a mark,” he said, voice shaking.
“I didn’t ask for visions or… or whatever this thing is doing to me.”

He dragged both hands over his face, shuddering.

“I don’t want to glow, or burn, or see things I can’t explain.”

His breath hitched.

“I’m tired. I’m so tired of being dragged into all of this. I’m tired of feeling like the freak of the week.”

Chris’s eyes softened even more, but he stayed quiet, giving Silver room—even if it hurt to watch.

Silver laughed—a broken, hollow sound.

“Look at me.” He gestured at his face, his eye. “Like this wasn’t enough.”

His voice cracked painfully.

“I already look like a monster to half the school. Now I’m gonna have a glowing hand too? Another mark? Another thing to stare at?”

He shook his head, blinking hard against the burn in his eyes.

“My face is messed up. My eye is messed up. And now some magical brand is trying to finish the job?”

The words tumbled out raw and self-punishing.

“I’m tired, Dad. I’m so tired of feeling wrong.”

The car fell silent again, save for the rain hammering the roof.

Chris finally reached out, resting a steady, grounding hand on the center console—close enough for Silver to take if he wanted, far enough not to push.

No lectures. No tough love. Just presence.

After a long moment, Chris turned the key. The engine hummed to life, the soft vibration filling the car.

His voice was gentle when he spoke.

“Come on,” he murmured.
“Let’s go home.”

Silver leaned back into the seat, letting himself breathe—not fixed, not fine, but not drowning either.

🎭

The morning sun hit the front steps of Beacon Hills High, streaking the courtyard in long amber shadows. Students moved in loose clusters—half-awake, loud, shoving backpacks higher on their shoulders.

Ren stood near the metal railing, clipboard tucked under his arm, pen twirling between his fingers. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying not to look as bored as he felt. The whole “school ambassador” thing had sounded fun on paper… right up until he realized it meant early mornings and guiding new students around like some overly enthusiastic tour guide.

A car pulled up to the curb. Theo stepped out, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, eyes scanning the crowd with that calm, calculating edge that immediately set him apart from everyone else. He shut the car door, said something to the driver, then turned toward the school.

Ren pushed off the railing and walked up to him.

“Theo, right?” Ren said, giving him a small wave.

Theo took a step closer, adjusting the strap of his bag as he looked Ren over—measuring him, like he did everyone.

“Didn’t expect a welcome committee,” he said lightly. “Guess I made an impression.”

Ren shrugged, playful. “Please. Most new kids just get lost by the vending machines. Saving my friends puts you at, like… VIP level.”

A corner of Theo’s mouth lifted—subtle, but there. “Well… I’m glad they’re okay.”

Theo fell in step beside him, hands in his jacket pockets. Students streamed around them, the morning growing louder as more people arrived.

“So…” Theo said, scanning faces. “Was that everyone in Scott’s pack?”

“Pretty much,” Ren replied. “We’re all kind of locked together at this point.” He paused, then smirked. “Like trauma superglue.”

Theo chuckled under his breath, then hesitated before asking,
“What about the guy with the eye? Is it… fake?”

Ren didn’t slow, didn’t even blink.
“Oh—Silver,” he said casually. “And yeah. It’s real. But don’t take the attitude personally. He doesn’t trust anyone at first. Not even me.”

Theo glanced at Ren, curiosity flickering. “But you trust him?”

Ren gave him a sideways smile, eyes warm with something that hinted at genuine affection.
“You get used to reading him. He’s like a cat—always looks annoyed, and if he bites you, it probably means he actually tolerates you.”

Theo huffed a real laugh this time, one that softened the edges of his usually sharp expression. “And what does he think of me?”

Ren shrugged, letting his shoulder just barely brush Theo’s—a calculated, careful bit of contact.
“Ask him again in a week. Or impress him. He likes people who can keep up.”

Theo felt the touch, brief but intentional, and turned his head slightly toward Ren. “And what about you?”

Ren didn’t miss a beat.
“Me? I’m easy,” he said with a light grin. “Just don’t lie to my friends, and we’ll get along fine.”

He pivoted toward the science building, walking backwards a few steps so he could keep Theo in view.

“And cute faces? They get away with a lot more.” His grin widened. “That earns you, like… three free passes.”

Theo blinked, surprised—not by the flirtation, but by how casual Ren made it sound. A slow smile pulled at his lips. “Only three?”

Ren’s grin deepened.

“For now.”

He turned back around, leading Theo toward the entrance as the morning buzz swallowed them up—two shadows moving side by side, already circling each other without even realizing it.

🎭

The halls buzzed with first-day chaos—lockers slamming, freshmen scrambling like startled deer, seniors pretending they weren’t low-key panicking about the future. Sunlight poured through the tall windows.

Silver stepped inside and inhaled deeply, a slow grin blooming across his face. “First day of senior year,” he said, rubbing the mark on his hand out of habit.

Scott walked beside him, his smile touched with nostalgia and a hint of dread.
“Our last first day ever,” he said.

“Thank God.” Silver huffed a laugh. “I’m just aiming for zero injuries this year.”

Scott snorted and leaned down to kiss the side of Silver’s head.

Before he could say anything else, Silver’s attention snapped to a figure down the hallway.

Ren stood by the trophy case—looking suspiciously comfortable for someone who hated being watched—and right beside him, like a bad surprise wrapped in smugness, was Theo. Ren nodded politely, gesturing around like he was giving a guided tour of the school.

Silver felt his stomach drop.
Michael’s voice—the one from the other side of reinforced glass—echoed through his mind:

“Curiosity, Silver… it’s such a dangerous little thing, isn’t it?”

Silver’s fingers twitched at his side, tension coiling tight. He didn’t say anything.

Scott followed his gaze. “Oh hey, Ren found Theo already. That was fast.” His tone was neutral, not yet suspicious.

“Yeah,” Silver muttered, jaw tightening. “Real fast.”

Michael’s warnings crawled beneath his skin like cold water.

Scott bumped his shoulder lightly. “You okay?”

Silver blinked, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just… first-day nerves.”

Scott accepted that answer without pushing—trusting him.

🎭

Silver slid into the seat beside Lydia, dropping his bag at his feet. Across the aisle, Kira sat with an empty chair beside her—one Silver assumed would stay empty.

Until Scott walked in.

Silver’s brows shot up. Scott spotted him, grinned sheepishly, and hurried over to sit in the open seat next to Kira.

Silver leaned over his desk, whispering, “Scott… are you sure you’re in the right class?”

Scott glanced up at him with a smile.. “AP Biology?”

Lydia twisted in her seat, raising a perfectly judgmental eyebrow. “Do you even know what AP stands for?”

Scott blinked once. “…Advanced Placement?”

Before anyone could follow up, Mrs. Finch clapped her hands sharply at the front of the room.

“Welcome to AP Biology! Let’s see who’s awake this morning. Can anyone tell me what plasmids are?”

Lydia’s hand shot up like a missile. “Circular, self-replicating DNA molecules often used in cloning proteins.”

“Nicely stated, Lydia,” Mrs. Finch said with a rare smile. “Now—can you tell me what vitamin is absorbed in the stomach via parietal cell production of a glycoprotein?”

Lydia faltered for the first time all year.

“Uh—”

“B-12,” Mrs. Finch finished for her, then turned her eyes toward Silver as he shifted in his seat. “Mr. Argent, I assume your eye isn’t going to be a problem in taking notes or focusing today?”

Silver’s expression didn’t move. He met her gaze only briefly.
“Not at all, ma’am.”

Her attention drifted across the room until it landed on Scott.

“Mr. McCall—did you know the answer?”

Scott sat up a little, trying to look academically competent.
“Um… no.”

“It’s a common test question.” Mrs. Finch crossed her arms. “What’s your number one college pick?”

“Umm—”

“Stop saying ‘um.'”

“Sorry.” Scott swallowed. “UC-Davis.”

Mrs. Finch nodded approvingly. “Good choice. Best school on the West Coast for biological and physical sciences. You’re in the right class if that’s what you’re aiming for.”

She scanned the room again.
“Who else thinks they’re in the right class?”

A few hands went up. Silver raised his only halfway—somewhere between confidence and sheer stubbornness.

“Good!” Mrs. Finch said. “Then you should all be prepared for the test tomorrow.”

Groans rolled through the room like a wave.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she said. “This test is designed to help you decide whether you should actually be in AP Biology. You have two weeks to drop. Tomorrow’s exam will simply weed out the ones who shouldn’t be here…”

She paused, letting the tension settle over the room.

“And that,” she added, “could be any of you.”

🎭

Silver and Scott sat side by side on the warm concrete steps, backpacks resting lazily at their feet. Students streamed past them—laughing, shouting, slamming car doors. The chaos of first-day energy hummed around them like a constant, invisible tide.

Silver rubbed his left hand absently, feeling the faint burn beneath his palm. He glanced down at Scott, voice low and cautious. “The mark… it only glows when I touch someone… supernatural.”

Scott leaned closer, concern creasing his brow. “And the visions? You’ve been seeing flashes, right?”

Silver nodded slowly. “Yeah… flashes. But it’s only the mark that lights up. Not my head all the time. Just… when something connected to… the supernatural is near.” He hesitated, then, almost instinctively, reached out and grabbed Scott’s hand.

For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—like ice water pouring straight into his skull—a vision slammed into him.

He saw two boys lying on the floor, their bodies stretched out inches apart on cold concrete. One of them—barely conscious—dragged himself toward the other, fingers trembling as he reached for the other boy’s hand. His breath hitched, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts.

The second boy didn’t move at all.

With one final pull, the first boy’s hand brushed the other’s fingertips—
and then both bodies went still, slumping toward each other as the last breath left them.

Silver gasped, ripping himself back from the vision, his whole chest tightening as if he’d stopped breathing with them.

Scott’s eyes widened, catching the faint red glow emanating from Silver’s palm. “Silver…” he whispered, voice taut with worry.

“I—I’m fine,” Silver stammered, still shaking. “Just… it’s only flashes, okay? They happen fast, but… the mark reacts. It’s like it’s trying to warn me.”

Before Scott could respond, a familiar voice cut through the air. “Hey! You two! You’re coming with me!”

Scott glanced toward the crowd and frowned. “We’ve got a free period…”

Stiles waved his hands like a flag of surrender. “So do I. And so does Theo Raeken. Let’s go.”

Silver let out a small sigh, pulling his hand from Scott’s and standing. “Which means so does Ren.” He gave Scott a half-smile, though his mind still raced with the lingering images from the vision.

Scott stood, brushing dust off his jeans, eyes lingering on Silver’s hand for a heartbeat longer than necessary, the red glow slowly fading but leaving its mark on both their minds.

🎭

The sharp clang of lockers echoed off the tiled walls, steam drifting lazily from the showers. Theo stood near the benches, tugging on his shirt while the others formed a loose semicircle—Scott attentive, Ren politely neutral, Stiles already annoyed, and Silver silent with his arms folded tight across his chest.

Theo lifted his shirt, revealing a faint, jagged scar along his side.

“I was skating in a neighbor’s empty pool—trying to do a handplant,” Theo said. “Nobody was home. I wasn’t great at it… but I was determined. Lost track of time. Didn’t even realize it was night until the yard lights came on.”

Silver shot Stiles a subtle look; Stiles mirrored it.

“On my last try, I fell. Hard,” Theo continued. “Sitting at the bottom of the pool, I realized something… I never heard the board come down.” He tapped his side. “It came at me fast. I barely turned before it bit me. Right here.”

Scott stepped closer. “It wasn’t an accident,” he said. “He wanted to turn you.”

Stiles snorted, crossing his arms tighter. “Right. So why aren’t you in his pack? Why didn’t he come back for you?”

“Because by my first full moon… he was dead,” Theo said, dropping his shirt.

Silver’s jaw twitched at how casually he said it.

“And how do you know that?” Stiles demanded.

“I met one of his Betas a few weeks later,” Theo said. “He told me the Alpha who bit me was killed by two of his own. They were twins.”

Ren’s brows lifted—surprised, almost impressed.

Theo stepped closer to Scott, “Scott, listen to my pulse. I’m telling the truth.”

Stiles scoffed loudly. “Or you know how to slow your heart while you lie your ass off.”

Theo’s expression sharpened. “Why would I lie?”

Stiles inhaled sharply, ready to retort—but Silver cut in first, voice low and controlled.

“People lie when they want something,” Silver said. “Especially when they want in.”

Theo’s gaze flicked toward Silver—quick, unreadable—before he turned back to Scott.

“Fourth grade,” he said. “You had an inhaler. I had one too. I had a bad asthma attack in the nurse’s office. You were waiting for the principal.”

Scott blinked, caught off guard.

“You told me what the ER was like,” Theo went on. “The oxygen. The prednisone. You made it sound… easy. Like it would all be okay.”

His voice softened. “I’ve been alone since then. Lone wolves don’t make it by themselves. I swear I’m still that same kid. I just hoped you were too.”

Silence fell over the room.

Theo slung his bag over his shoulder. “I better not be late for class—you’re not the only ones I need to make a good impression on.” He walked out. The door slammed behind him.

Stiles immediately rounded on Scott. “No! Don’t give me that look.”

Scott held up his hands. “We have to give people the benefit of the doubt sometimes.”

“Not this time,” Stiles said. “I’m right—something’s off about him. I can feel it.”

Ren grabbed his backpack. “Lydia’s the psychic, not you,” he said. “And I should go—I’m his tour guide today.”

“How did that happen?” Silver asked.

Ren shrugged. “School ambassador looks good on college apps.” He headed out.

“She’s not psychic—she’s a BANSHEE! Big difference!” Stiles yelled after him.

Silver lingered beside Scott and Stiles, arms crossed tightly, a weight pressing against his chest. The memory of Michael’s piercing eyes and the unease they brought still lingered, prickling at his skin like static.

“Do you remember the last time one of us trusted someone from the past?” he asked quietly, voice low. The words felt heavier than usual, threaded with a cautious edge.

Scott stiffened, brows knitting together. He wasn’t trying to hurt him, but the question hit a nerve. “Silver… that was different. Michael was different,” he said.

Silver shook his head, unease coiling in his stomach. “It didn’t feel different at the time. And I don’t want you making the same mistake I did.” The memory of Michael’s grin, slow and unnerving, made his stomach churn.

Scott ran a hand through his hair, frustration simmering. “I get that you’re scared. I do. But not everyone who shows up is lying or dangerous.”

Stiles snorted loudly. “Uh—yes they are. Literally ninety percent of them.”

Scott shot him a look. “That doesn’t mean we should treat Theo like he’s guilty before anything even happens.”

Silver stepped closer, trying to keep his voice steady, “I’m not saying he’s guilty. I’m saying we need to be careful. And I want to help Stiles look into him. Just… to be sure.”

Scott hesitated, torn, and Silver’s unease deepened. “And I know Ren,” Silver added quickly, as if that could anchor him. “If we find real proof? He’ll be on our side. He’s not blindly trusting Theo—he just wants to give him a chance.”

Scott sighed, shoulders dropping a little. No anger remained, only conflict and concern. “I’m not trying to shut you out. I just… want to believe people can be good.”

Silver gave a small, sad nod, unease still coiled in his chest. “And I want to keep the people I care about safe.”

That seemed to reach him finally. Scott’s expression softened, guilt flickering briefly in his eyes.

Before Scott could respond, the bell echoed through the room.

“We’ll talk later, okay?” Scott said, grabbing his bag and heading out—gentle, not cold—but Silver still felt the tension lingering, a shadow that reminded him to stay vigilant.

Stiles nudged him lightly. “For the record? I’m glad you’re on my team.”

Silver exhaled slowly, shoulders still tight. “Yeah. Me too.”

🎭

The library was unusually calm for a weekday afternoon. Sun pooled through the tall windows, casting warm stripes across the long study table. Textbooks lay open like tired wings, highlighters scattered between coffee cups and half-finished worksheets.

Scott sat at the head of the table, posture straight but relaxed, a quiet anchor. On the right, Kira tapped her pencil as she helped Malia decode basic algebra.

Across from them, Silver sat, sketchbook open but untouched, the eraser of his pencil tapping absently. Ren sat next to him, scrolling through something on his phone and pretending to study.

The group wasn’t loud—just a soft blend of quiet conversation, page-turning, and Malia whispering. Everything felt steady, warm, almost peaceful.

Then Ren leaned back in his chair, glanced sideways at Silver’s profile—and said, completely casually and far too loudly:

“Do you ever think about getting a fake eye?”

The entire table froze.

Scott blinked. Kira’s pencil stopped mid-tap. Silver slowly turned his head toward Ren, his expression blank in that very Silver way that meant he was two seconds from kicking someone under the table.

Ren, oblivious—or pretending to be—rested his chin in his hand, still scrolling with his thumb.

“I mean,” he continued, voice relaxed, “they can make them look super realistic now. Glass, resin, whatever. Some even move.”

Silver stared, unimpressed.
“Ren.”

Ren hummed. “Mm?”

Silver lowered his pencil. “Why would I want a fake eye?”

Ren shrugged, finally looking up at him. “I don’t know. For aesthetics? Symmetry? Dramatic flair? If you’re gonna rock the mysterious-wounded-warrior vibe, you might as well commit.”

Scott rubbed his forehead like he already regretted existing.

Kira bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

Malia leaned in, genuinely invested. “You can get them in different colors, right?”

Silver groaned, dropping his head to the table with a soft thunk.

Ren grinned, leaning closer. “Come on, Silver. It’d look cool. And if you ever get bored, you could swap it out for one with glitter.”

Silver lifted his head slowly—slowly enough to emphasize the threat—then said flatly:

“If you ever bring this up again, I’m replacing your eyes with glitter.”

Ren raised his hands in surrender, a smirk still tugging at his mouth.

The library doors burst open with a sharp slam as Stiles came barreling in, eyes wide and frantic.

Scott looked up immediately, eyebrows raised. “So… you found something?”

Stiles didn’t even catch his breath. “Another signature. This is Theo’s dad’s signature on a speeding ticket from eight years ago, and this—” he held up another sheet with a flourish—”is his dad’s signature on a transfer form to Beacon Hills High… from just a few days ago.”

Kira leaned forward, frowning. “How did you get his transfer form?”

Scott’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t break into the administration office…”

Stiles threw his hands up, a guilty grin spreading. “No, I did not break into the administration office… okay, maybe I did break into the administration office. But can we focus on the signatures? Look—they’re different.”

Malia glanced at the forms. “They’re… sort of different.”

Stiles slammed his hands down. “Sort-of? No! They’re completely different! Look here—garlands don’t match, the undulations of the sinuous stroke are totally off. And this—perfect example of the criminal tremor!” He jabbed at the paper for emphasis.

Kira blinked, confused. “So now Theo is Theo, but his parents aren’t his parents?”

Stiles paced, tossing the papers in the air like confetti. “Someone’s not someone. And when I figure out who that someone really is, someone’s in big trouble.”

Scott frowned, cautious. “But no one’s done anything wrong—”

“Yet!” Stiles interrupted sharply, flopping onto a chair. “If Theo’s parents are both psychotic killers, we should not trust him. Right?”

Malia shrugged, calm as ever. “…My parents are Peter and the Desert Wolf.”

Stiles groaned, hands flying up. “Okay, fine. You know what? I’ll figure this out myself. Right? I don’t need you, or you, or you. I don’t need anyone.”

Silver stood up slowly. “Come on, Ren,” he said, looping an arm through Ren’s.

Ren blinked, confused. “Wait—what? Where are we going?”

Silver smirked. “It’s a fun thing. Promise. Stiles found something interesting, and we get to follow him. Trust me, you’ll want in on this.”

Ren hesitated, glancing at the scattered papers and Stiles’ frantic energy, but let himself be tugged along. “Fun, huh?”

“Yeah,” Silver said casually, dragging him toward the door. “Fun. And maybe a little chaos—just how you like it.”

Ren trailed beside Silver as they jogged to catch up with Stiles’ jeep, a frown creasing his brow. “I still don’t get it,” he muttered. “Why are we following Theo? Are you actually going to do anything, or just… sit back?”

Silver glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “What’s with holding back, Ren? You’re usually the first one to dive in. Why pause now?”

Ren hesitated, shifting his weight. “I don’t know… I just—maybe it’s not my place?”

Silver shook his head slightly, a small smirk forming. “Look, I’m not trying to do anything crazy. I just want to check this out with Stiles. See what he’s found, and make sure it’s nothing—or something we need to deal with. No drama, no heroics.”

Ren blinked, still unsure, but Silver’s casual tone and steady confidence nudged him forward. “Alright,” Ren said finally, shrugging. “Guess I’ll see what all the fuss is about.”

Silver clapped him lightly on the shoulder as they approached the jeep. “That’s the spirit.”

By the time they slid into the back seats, Liam was already buckled in beside Stiles in the front. The tension of Ren’s confusion lingered, but Silver’s confidence seemed to settle him slightly.

Liam peered at the papers scattered across Stiles’ lap, frowning. “Wait… what’s a ‘criminal tremor’?”

Stiles didn’t even glance back. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, shifting into gear.

🎭

Ren jogged up beside Silver, still a little winded from keeping up with Stiles’ rapid pace. “Are we really doing this?” he asked, voice low. “Following him out here, in the middle of nowhere?”

Silver shot him a look, half amused, half exasperated. “Come on, Ren. You’re holding back. Why?”

Ren hesitated, fingers twitching at his backpack strap. “I just… I don’t know if it’s our business. Maybe it’s better if we—”

Silver cut him off with a shake of his head. “No. I just want to check this out with Stiles. See what he’s found. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Ren blinked, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “Alright… if you say so.”

They crept deeper into the preserve, keeping low behind the brush, until they reached a clearing where Liam and Stiles were already crouched, eyes locked on Theo in the distance. Theo was pulling something from the trunk of his car before heading down a narrow trail.

“I told you he was up to something!” Stiles hissed, shoving a branch away from his face. “We just spent three hours watching this dude play video games in his bedroom. He better be out here covering up a mass murder.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “Seriously. If this ends with him just taking out the trash, I’m leaving that part out when we tell Scott.”

Ren peeked over Stiles’ shoulder, squinting at Theo’s silhouette. “I don’t get it. He’s a nice guy with a cute face.”

Silver immediately snapped his head toward Ren, glaring. “That is not—Ren—helpful.”

Ren blinked innocently, shrugging. “I’m just saying we’ve stalked much worse-looking people.”

Stiles made a face. “Okay, can we keep the flirting out of the surveillance? Please?”

He turned back to Liam. “You still got his scent?”

“Don’t need it,” Liam said, pointing straight down. A single, clear footprint pressed into the damp dirt.

Silver stepped closer, but before he could say anything, he noticed Liam slow down—expression slipping, eyes unfocused.

“What’s wrong?” Silver asked, voice low but sharp.

Liam blinked, remembering. “I forgot… I was supposed to meet Mason at the school gym.”

Stiles didn’t even pause. “Okay, why didn’t you just tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

Silver gave Liam a flat look. “Anything.”

Liam shook his head, shoulders tensing. “I can’t just tell him anything.”

Stiles frowned. “Why not?”

Liam let out a breath, exasperated. “Because I haven’t told him everything…”

“Still?” Silver said. “I thought we said it was okay.”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s not that easy!” Liam whispered harshly. “It’s a lot to accept.”

Stiles waved a hand dismissively. “He watched my dad blow up a Berserker with a landmine. I think the groundwork’s been pretty thoroughly laid for acceptance.” He jabbed a finger at Liam. “We’ve all been through this. More than once. It’s always better when they know.”

Silver nodded in agreement. Ren gently patted Liam’s shoulder like this was a routine pep talk.

They resumed moving—quiet, careful.

“But what if he freaks out?” Liam continued, anxiety spiraling again. “What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? What if he tries to stab me with something silver? Or, what if—”

A sudden thud cut him off.

Stiles froze. Silver stopped beside him. They slowly turned.

A very large hole gaped open in the ground… with Liam sprawled at the bottom, bewildered.

Stiles stared. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Silver covered his mouth to hide a laugh. Ren didn’t bother—he snorted loudly.

Liam groaned up at them, dirt smudged across his face.

Stiles shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

Silver braced his boots against the damp edge of the hole and hauled Liam up by both forearms.

“C’mon, big guy,” Silver said through a strained breath. “There you go.”

Liam popped out of the dirt like a disgruntled groundhog, covered in mud and panting.

Silver clapped him on the back. “Hey. You’re okay. Shake it off. You’ve gotten out of worse. Just breathe, focus, and don’t freak out until at least after Stiles does.”

Before Liam could answer, Ren’s voice rang out from behind them.

“There he is! Finally. Hurry up! Stop screwing around,” Ren said, then grabbed Silver’s arm and yanked him back toward a tree. Silver rolled his eyes at the dramatics.

A few seconds later, Liam jogged over to them.

“Try and get his scent,” Stiles said, pointing toward the lake.

Liam took a deep breath. “Okay… uh…” He wrinkled his nose. “Soap.”

Silver closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he looked at Liam flatly.

“It’s nice soap,” Liam added defensively. “It smells good.”

“Not his soap,” Silver said, exasperated. “Chemosignals. Do you remember those?”

“Oh—yeah, right.” Liam inhaled again, slower this time. “Okay… I—he’s sad.”

“Sad?” Stiles repeated.

Silver shook his head. “Not just sad. It’s heavier. More like… grief.”

“Grief?” Stiles echoed, confused—until he saw Theo at the water’s edge dropping a single white flower into the lake.

“Oh my God,” Stiles breathed. “Go. We have to go.” He grabbed Silver and Ren’s sleeves and started dragging them backward.

“What? Why?” Liam asked.

“Go! Right now,” Stiles snapped. “Just go!”

Only when they were far from the lake did Stiles finally stop.

“That’s the bridge where they found his sister,” he said quietly.

Silver raised his brows. “What sister?”

“The one who got lost and died from exposure,” Stiles explained. “He’s leaving a flower for her.”

“That doesn’t sound evil,” Liam muttered.

“I know,” Stiles sighed, rubbing his face.

Silver nudged Ren lightly and dropped his voice.
“You’re holding back. Why? You could at least check in.”

“I… I don’t know. I’m not sure what I’m even looking for out here.”

Silver kept his voice gentle. “See? Sometimes it’s not about motives or drama. Sometimes we just check. Make sure people are okay. That’s all I want with Stiles.”

Ren hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Alright… I’m with you. Let’s see what’s going on.”

Up ahead, Stiles froze. Theo stood in a tree above them, watching. A moment later he dropped down, landing lightly on the dirt.

“What are you guys doing out here?” Theo asked.

Liam growled automatically, stepping forward—until Silver grabbed his shoulder and held him back.

“Whoa,” Theo said with a small smirk, raising his hands. “Why do I get the feeling this kid’s tougher than he looks?”

“Only when we let him off his leash,” Stiles muttered.

Theo tilted his head. “Stiles, we were in Little League together. Why are you so suspicious of me?”

Stiles exhaled sharply and pulled out a folded pair of papers. “Because of these. One’s a speeding ticket your dad signed eight years ago. The other is the signature on the transfer form for you to come to Beacon Hills.” He shoved them toward Theo. “They’re different.”

Theo examined them. “Huh. Yeah, they do look a little different.”

“No—they’re totally different. Signed by two different people,” Stiles said.

Theo chuckled lightly. “So my dad’s not my dad? What, like he’s an imposter?”

“Something like that,” Stiles said with a shrug.

Theo studied him. “Who do you think I am?”

“We don’t know yet,” Stiles answered.

“Want me to give you a DNA sample?” Theo offered.

“No,” Stiles sighed. “I don’t have anything from fourth grade to match it to.”

Theo stepped closer, tone softening. “You know… I came back here for Scott. But I also came back for you. For someone like you. Someone who’ll walk into the woods in the middle of the night to protect his friends. I don’t have anyone like that.” He paused, earnest. “But Scott does. You all do. I know I’m in the right place. I’m meant to be here. I’m meant to be part of this pack.”

Silver squinted at him, humming under his breath. Something felt off—like a smile with teeth just hidden beneath it.

Then Theo’s attention shifted, landing on Ren.

His expression softened even more.

“Ren,” Theo said quietly, something like disappointment flickering in his eyes. “Didn’t think I’d see you out here tonight. Thought you’d be keeping your distance.” His tone was gentle, almost warm. “I’m… glad you’re here, though.”

Ren stiffened, unsure what to do with the kindness or the way it felt too familiar.

Silver stepped slightly closer to him on instinct.

“Packs don’t work like that.” Silver said making Theo look at him, “People aren’t always ment to be in a specific pack. ” Silver said before grabbing Ren’s and Liam’s arms and pulling them in the direction of the jeep.

They trudged up the hill toward the jeep, damp leaves sticking to their shoes. Scott glanced between them, concern etched into his face.

“Find anything?” he asked.

“Nope,” Stiles sighed, already climbing into the driver’s seat with the energy of someone done with the entire night.

“I fell in a hole,” Liam reported, deadpan.

Silver snorted softly and clapped Liam’s shoulder.

Scott looked toward the dim outline of the bridge through the trees. “It was the bridge where his sister died, wasn’t it?”

Stiles’ hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Yes, it was. Very embarrassing. So now we’re gonna leave.” He jammed the key into the ignition—only for the engine to sputter twice and die. Stiles slumped forward. “Son of a—”

He flung the door open and stomped out.

“Liam, do me a favor?” Stiles said, pointing sharply. “Get in, turn the ignition when I say.”

Liam walked around to the driver’s side obediently, while Stiles, Scott, and Silver circled to the front of the jeep. Silver lifted an eyebrow at the sight beneath the hood—duct tape. Everywhere.

“Stiles…” Scott said slowly.

“Be with you in a second,” Stiles muttered. “Try it!”

“Stiles.”

“What? Okay? Yes, fine.” Stiles threw up his hands. “We followed him out here. What do you want me to say? That I’m a stalker? That I’m crazy? Paranoid? None of this is new information!”

Silver traded a look with Scott. Stiles was spiraling.

Scott folded his arms. “Now you’re gonna try to give him the benefit of the doubt?”

“I give people the benefit of the doubt!” Stiles snapped. “I’ve given a lot of benefit to a lot of people!”

Scott tilted his head. “Like Derek? …Kira? …Liam? …Silver?”

Stiles jabbed a finger at him. “I was right about Peter.” He waved his hand. “Try it again! And you—” he pointed at Scott again, “I bet you still think there’s something about Theo that can be saved.”

Scott hesitated. “…Maybe.”

Stiles groaned so hard it echoed. “Try it again!”

Scott’s quiet voice cut through the tension. “Why can’t you trust anyone?”

Stiles spun on him, face twisting. “Because you trust everyone!”

He slammed his fist into the jeep’s hood.

“AHH!”

Liam jumped inside the jeep. Silver flinched. Stiles pulled his hand to his chest, eyes watering from the pain he refused to admit to.

Scott stepped forward immediately. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Stiles hissed.

“You could’ve broken—”

“It’s not broken.”

“Let me see it.”

“I’m fine.”

“Stiles. Let me see it.”

Stiles reluctantly holds out his arm, and Scott gently reaches out to hold Stiles’ injured hand between his own. Scott concentrates for a moment, and his veins run black as he begins to take Stiles’ pain.

Scott takes a deep breath. Once he’s done, Scott releases Stiles’ hand. Stiles looks at his hand, curling his fingers as he tests it out, then flexing it. After a few moments, Stiles turns to look at Scott, who meets his gaze. They share a look. Their silence is broken by the jeep’s headlights turning on as it roars to life.

“Yeah,” Ren said, meeting Scott’s eyes. “I… I actually agree with you.” He hesitated, then exhaled slowly. “Theo isn’t a bad guy. Not inherently. I mean… he’s got a past, but we all do.”

Scott’s expression softened a little, relief flickering across his face. “You really think so?”

Ren nodded. “I do. I saw the way he handled himself, even when Stiles and Liam were freaking out. He didn’t act dangerous. Honestly… come on, we all know what it’s like to be the new guy. You’ve got to prove yourself without losing your head.”

Stiles snorted from the driver’s seat of the Jeep. “Yeah, and apparently he’s already got a head start on impressing us all.”

Ren smirked, leaning back. “Don’t get too cocky, Stilinski. You’re still top of the paranoia chart.”

Stiles waved him off with a grin. “Maybe. But it keeps everyone alive, doesn’t it?”

With a final wave, Stiles shifted the Jeep into gear, Ren giving Silver a small nod before they drove off, the headlights cutting a bright path through the dark trees before disappearing completely.

The preserve fell into quiet. The only sounds were the rustling leaves and the distant call of a night bird.

Silver let out a sharp, humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Of course he said that. Of course he’d say Theo isn’t dangerous. Everyone else seems blind to it.”

Scott looked at him, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Silver crossed his arms, jaw tightening. “It means Ren thinks everybody has good intentions until proven otherwise. He does this thing where he sees the best because he wants the world to be that way.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed a little. “You don’t think that’s a strength?”

“In some situations,” Silver said. “Not when it gets people hurt.”

Scott frowned. “But you didn’t see anything out there that proves Theo’s dangerous. You heard what Liam smelled—grief.”

“Yeah,” Silver said. “Grief. From a guy who lies like he breathes.”

Scott stepped toward him. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes,” Silver snapped back, “I do.”

Scott’s expression changed—not angry yet, but close. “Why? Because Stiles dug up old paperwork? Because Theo came back and didn’t fall at your feet begging for forgiveness for something he didn’t do?”

Silver stiffened. “Don’t twist this.”

“Then explain it,” Scott pushed. “Explain what makes Theo so untrustworthy to you.”

Silver looked past him into the dark woods, eyes distant. “Michael walked back into my life with a smile and a story. He said everything I wanted to hear. He made me feel safe, familiar.” Silver’s throat bobbed. “And it worked. I trusted him.”

Scott’s voice softened carefully. “Silver…”

“No,” Silver said. “Let me finish.”

Scott closed his mouth.

Silver looked him dead in the eye. “Theo smiles the same way. Acts the same way. Says the right things at the right moment. He has that same… ease. That same charm.” He swallowed hard. “That same wrongness under the surface.”

Scott took a slow breath. “People can have similarities without being the same.”

“But you’re not listening,” Silver shot back. “I’m not saying he is Michael. I’m saying he’s the type you want to trust because it’s easier than admitting you shouldn’t.”

Scott tensed.

Silver didn’t let up.

“You keep giving people chances until they break your heart,” Silver said quietly. “And I’m scared one day you’re not going to come back from it.”

The words hit Scott harder than Silver expected.

Scott’s shoulders lowered, and for a moment he just stood there, breathing through the sting of the truth.

“You think I’m naive,” Scott said.

“I think you have a good heart,” Silver replied. “And people like Theo—people like Michael—they know how to use that.”

“I get that you’re trying to protect me,” Scott finally said. “But I’m not going to treat Theo like a criminal without proof.”

“And I’m not going to ignore my instincts because you’re scared of being wrong,” Silver said.

Scott ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh. “Silver… can we just go home? Please. Go to bed, clear our heads.”

Silver raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

Scott gave a small, tired smile. “I’ve had enough drama for one night.”

Silver hesitated but finally nodded, the tension easing slightly. “Fine. Lead the way.”

Scott turned and jogged over to where his motorbike was parked. Silver followed, noticing the way the moonlight glinted off the black metal. He swung his leg over the seat and settled in behind Scott, gripping him lightly but not too tightly.

“Hold on,” Scott said over his shoulder, revving the engine. The low rumble echoed through the preserve.

🎭

Silver sat on the edge of his bed, fidgeting with a loose thread on the blanket. The soft glow from the desk lamp cast long shadows across the room. Scott sat nearby, pretending to study, but Silver’s eyes were fixed on him.

“So… how come you never told me why you want to go to UC-Davis?” Silver asked softly, breaking the quiet.

Scott stiffened, keeping his eyes on the notebook. “It’s a really good school,” he said casually. “Not too far from the Bay Area…”

Silver tilted his head, studying him. “And it has one of the best biological and physical science programs in the country. Perfect for someone who wants to be a veterinarian.”

Scott finally turned to face him, shoulders tense. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Silver pressed gently. “Were you worried about what I’d think?”

Scott came over and sat beside him, hands clasped tightly. “No… I just… I’m worried I’m not smart enough to make it.”

Silver blinked, his chest tightening. “Scott. You’re more than smart enough. You’re stubborn, and you work harder than anyone I know. You’ll make it.”

Scott gave a faint nod, nudging him lightly. “What about you? What do you want?”

Silver swallowed, twisting his hands together, his uncertainty evident. “I… I’m not totally sure. I think… I want to help people. Kids like me when I was younger. Kids who were scared to be themselves around their families. Or scared to go to school. Kids who feel like they have to earn the love they get.”

He paused, glancing up at Scott, who watched him patiently. “I want to help them know they’re not alone,” Silver continued, voice quiet and uncertain. “And that one day they’ll find their people. Their family…”

A small, almost embarrassed smile flickered across his face. “…their pack.”

Scott groaned and flopped onto the bed. “Every. Single. Time.”

Silver let out a quiet laugh, but the tension lingered. Scott’s expression shifted, darker now. “Okay… but what if you’re wrong? About Theo.”

Silver’s amusement faded. “Scott—”

“No, just hear me out,” Scott said quickly. “What if you’re being paranoid because you don’t like him? Because he’s new?”

Silver sat up straighter, eyes sharp. “Scott, come on. If your best friend and your boyfriend both feel something’s off, maybe at least consider it. I’m not trying to start a war. I just… don’t want you making the same mistakes I made with Michael.”

Scott’s jaw tightened, guilt flickering in his eyes. “Silver… Michael was different. You can’t compare him to anyone.”

Silver exhaled slowly, frustration mixing with weariness. “I know you’re not me. You’re not going to make the same mistakes because you’re Scott McCall, the True Alpha.”

Scott’s eyes softened, the edge of his frustration melting away. “I just… I hate seeing you so tense. And Michael—he left a mark on all of us. I don’t want that happening again.”

Silver’s lips pressed together for a moment before he forced a small, light smile. “I get it. And… I promise, this is nothing like Michael. Really.”

Scott gave him a small nod, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

“Talk to Theo. Get answers that you couldn’t get from Michael,” Scott said quietly, his voice steady but gentle.

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft hum of the desk lamp and the faint rustle of leaves outside the window.

Silver let his head fall back against the pillow, eyes half-closed, pretending to relax. “Yeah… couldn’t get answers from him,” he murmured, the lie slipping past easily, though the tension in his chest didn’t fade.

Scott’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, then he gave a small, knowing smile and leaned back beside him, letting the quiet settle around them. For now, the unspoken worries could wait.