Chapter 22

“If Jackson doesn’t know what he’s doing, then he probably doesn’t know someone’s controlling him.” Silver whispers as he shuts his bedroom door.

“Or he doesn’t remember.” Scott says as he and Stiles crowd around in Stilinski’s office. “What if it’s the same kind of thing that happened with Lydia when she took off from the hospital?” Stiles sighs.

“A fugue state?” Silver asks. “He would have to forget everything – the murder.”

“Getting rid of the blood.” Silver adds on to Scott, “He had help with one thing – the video.” Stiles points out, “And someone else had him forget that.”

“Whoever’s controlling him.”

“Jackson has no clue about any of this. As far as he knows he just thinks that he’s still becoming a werewolf and Lydia delayed everything.” Silver tells them quietly.

“So, do we try to convince him he’s not?” Stiles’ voice brings his attention back to the problem at hand, “If it helps us find out who’s controlling him, then yeah.”

“He’s not gonna want to talk to any of us after tonight.” Scott points out, “Yeah, he’ll talk to us, it’s us, right?”

Silver flinches as the sharp beep of the call disconnecting echoes in his ears. He hurls his phone onto the bed, where it bounces once and goes still. He rips off his sweatshirt, the fabric sticking to the back of his neck as a wave of heat surges through him. His skin’s burning, but not from temperature—
It’s panic.

Thump.

The sound sends a jolt through him.

He rushes to the window, heart pounding, eyes scanning the front yard. Nothing. No movement. No headlights, no figures. Just quiet, heavy darkness. He pushes off the ledge and runs down the hall to Allison’s room.

Empty.

“Allison?” he calls, stepping inside cautiously. Her bed is untouched. Closet doors closed. No sign of her.

He crosses the room to the window, hoping for a better view of the yard. But just as he reaches it—

Thump.

The hair on the back of his neck stands up. He doesn’t notice that her window behind him is cracked open, letting in a breath of cold night air.

Silver darts out the front door, barefoot, ignoring the bite of cool cement. His breath catches in his throat as he scans the darkness.  He circles around the side of the house, drawn toward the backyard like something’s pulling him.

That’s when arms wrap around him from behind.

He lets out a startled sound, instinctively fighting against the grip—

“It’s me. It’s me,” Michael whispers against his ear, his tone calm, steadying. “It’s just me.”

Silver relaxes slightly but twists out of the hold. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Michael raises his hands in peace. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“In the middle of the night?” Silver snaps. “You could’ve been anyone—”

“I’m allowed to worry about you,” Michael says, quieter now. “Fake relationship or not… I still care about you, Silver.”

Silver says nothing. The words dig into him more than he wants to admit. He glances toward the woods. “I thought I heard something.”

Michael looks around too, more amused than concerned. “And you came out here with no weapon?”

Silver shrugs, trying to play it off. “Guess I didn’t think that far ahead.”

Michael chuckles, soft and a little too warm. “Lucky I showed up when I did.”

Silver tries to steady his breathing. “Yeah. Guess so.”

They stand there in the still night, the silence between them thick and complicated. Not hostile. But it’s not easy.

“I should go back inside,” Silver says, finally breaking it.

Michael steps closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Goodnight, Arthur Argent.”

He leans in, presses a kiss to Silver’s cheek, and then walks back toward his car without looking back.

Silver watches him go, his stomach twisting. He hates the way that feels. Hates the way he feels. That warmth in his chest? It isn’t trust. It’s guilt.

He jogs back inside, locking the door behind him.

Upstairs, Allison’s bedroom light is on.

He knocks. “Allison?”

She jumps at the sound, spinning around to face him. “What?” she asks, sharp and irritated.

“Did you hear anything outside?” he asks, searching her face.

She frowns. “No. Why?”

Silver doesn’t answer. He just nods.

Because something’s wrong—
He just doesn’t know what yet.

🦎

Silver feels awkward walking down the hall, hand in hand with Michael, the contact heavier than it should be. Allison walks beside them, silent but watching—like she knows something he doesn’t. The hallway feels too loud, too bright, and all Silver can think about is how many people are staring… and how Michael’s grip doesn’t waver.

The three of them enter the library and they look back to see a security camera aimed at them, “Creepy.” Silver mutters to Allison as they turn back around.

Silver leads the three of them down an aisle, Michael closely behind him. As the three come to a stop, Allison pretends to read as Michael passes the tablet.

Stiles pretends to read as Scott grabs the tablet, not missing the smirk on Michaels face, focusing on the English translation. “It’s everything Lydia could translate.” Silver whispers, glancing up at Allison, “Trust us. She was very confused.” Allison whispers.

“Yeah, what did you tell her?” Scott asks them, “That we were part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures.” Silver groans, “She’s going to hold this over my head forever.”

“They aren’t so bad.”

“I am part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures.” Michael and Stiles say seriously as Silvers looks up at both of them. “Oh, okay. Good for you.” Silver nods, his mouth open.

“Okay does it say to find out who’s controlling him?” Scott asks Silver. “Not really. But Stiles was right about the murderers.” At Allison’s words Stiles fist pumps the air. “It calls the Kanima a weapon of vengeance. There’s a story in there about this South American priest who uses the Kanima to execute murderers in his village.” Silver finishes up.

“All right, see? So maybe it’s not all that bad.” Silver sighs as he looks at all two boys through the shelves, “Until the bond grew strong enough that it killed whoever he wanted it to.”

“All bad, all very, very bad.” Stiles shakes his head, “Here’s the thing though. The Kanima is actually supposed to be a werewolf,” Allison whispers out as the librarian walks past the girls, “Until it resolves that in its past which manifested it.” Scott finishes the sentence.

“Okay that means that Jackson could use a few thousand hours of therapy, I could’ve told you that myself.” Michael looks up as he quickly looks around, “What if it has something to do with his parents? His birth parents.”

“Yeah, does anybody actually know what happened to them?” Allison asks, “Lydia might.” Silver says.

“What if she doesn’t know anything?”

“Well, he doesn’t have a restraining order against me, or Allison so we’ll talk to him ourselves.” Silver says. “What do I do?” Scott asks his boyfriend, “You have a make-up exam, remember?”

Everyone looks at Scott with a knowing look, “Promise me.”

“If he does anything you run the other way.” Scott says softly, “I can take care of myself.”

“Silver, if you get hurt while I’m busy with some stupid test, someone’s going to need to take care of me,” Scott says, voice low and urgent, eyes locked on Silver’s. “If he does anything—”

“Like?” Silver arches a brow.

“Anything weird or bizarre. Anything,” Scott presses.

“Anything evil,” Stiles adds, his head suddenly popping out from between the shelves. Silver rolls his eyes, before pushing Stiles away.

Michael steps into view just as the warning finishes. He wraps an arm casually around Silver’s shoulder, like he’s done it a hundred times before. “Relax,” he says with a crooked smile. “He’ll be fine. He’s with me.”

🦎

“The hallway is eerily quiet for midday. Lockers line the walls like silent witnesses as the three of them—Michael, Allison, and Silver—walk together in a loose triangle. Their footsteps echo against the linoleum, each one louder than it should be in the stillness.

Michael, as usual, walks a step behind, hands buried in his jacket pockets, his tone light—too light to be sincere.

“So… you’re really worried about him, huh?” he asks, but his eyes flick toward Silver, sharp and measuring.

Silver’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t even glance back. “He’s my boyfriend,” he mutters. “What do you think?”

Michael lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Just asking a question.”

“Well, maybe don’t,” Silver bites, his voice rougher than he means it to be.

Michael arches an eyebrow, not missing a beat. “You mean besides the fact that we’re pretending to date so your hunter family doesn’t find out you’re sneaking around with a werewolf?”

Allison flinches slightly. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

“But it’s true,” Silver says, cutting in. “My parents trust you, Michael. They already think something’s off. You pretending to still care about me is the only thing keeping their attention off Scott.”

Michael steps closer, eyes never leaving Silver. “And I’m doing a damn good job, which means I get to ask why you look two seconds away from tearing someone’s head off.”

“Because if something happens to him and I’m the reason he got caught in the crossfire, I won’t be able to—” Silver stops short, the weight of it catching in his throat. “Forget it.”

Before anyone can respond, a sudden voice makes Allison flinch.

“Whoa! You just scared the hell out of me!” says Matt, stepping out from around the corner, clutching his phone like it’s a shield.

Allison straightens. “Sorry, I wa—I was just, um…”

Michael and Silver continue arguing behind her in low voices, tension rising.

“…Nothing,” she finishes.

Matt glances down, flashing a nervous grin. “Nice heels.”

Allison blinks. “Oh! Yeah, uh… my feet were hurting, so I—”

“Same reason I never wear mine,” Matt jokes quickly. “Forget it.”

He fumbles again. “Anyway—did you hear about the underground show? Supposed to be huge. Some DJ with like a million followers. I’ve got a friend who can get us tickets. Want me to grab you one?”

“You mean, like… a rave?” Allison asks, trying to focus.

Matt shrugs. “I mean, is it still a rave if you don’t roll? I just call it a party.”

She chuckles half-heartedly. Behind her, Michael’s voice is getting louder.

“You fake dating me doesn’t mean you get to act like you hate me every time I bring him up!”

Silver doesn’t flinch. “I don’t hate you—I just hate what you did.”

Matt keeps talking. “So Friday… wanna go? It’ll be fun.”

Allison forces a chuckle, but as she opens her mouth to respond—she hesitates.

Her eyes flick sideways, just for a second. Michael is watching her. Not talking anymore. Just watching.

Still, she turns back to Matt. “Yeah,” she says, quieter this time. “Yeah, sure. That’d be great.”

Matt’s eyebrows rise. “Yeah? Cool! It’s Friday, so… looking forward to it.”

“What are you doing, Liss?”

The nickname drops like a stone between them—personal, raw, way too familiar. Silver turns at the sound of it, brows raised, but Michael doesn’t even glance at him.

Matt is already backing away. “I, uh… I’ll text you.”

Matt disappears around the corner, and Allison mutters tightly, “I’m going to talk to Jackson,” before walking off without waiting for a reply. Her footsteps echo down the empty hall, fading fast.

Michael turns to Silver, but he’s already heading in the opposite direction.

“Silver—” Michael calls after him, boots hitting tile as he rushes to catch up.

Silver doesn’t turn around.

Michael jogs forward until he moves in front, blocking Silver’s path. “Don’t walk away.”

“I’m not doing this right now,” Silver mutters, voice tight, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Michael steps in front of him, forcing him to halt. “Then when? When it’s too late? When everything falls apart and your family finds out and Scott gets caught in the middle-?”

“Stop talking like you care,” Silver snaps, voice cracking with restrained rage.

Michael’s mouth tightens. “I do care.”

It’s not the full truth. But it’s just honest enough to be dangerous.

Silver’s guard wavers and Michael steps closer, gentler now. “I was a coward, Silver. I was scared because of how much I love you. I still love you. I never stopped.”

Before Silver can pull away, Michael leans in and kisses him.

It’s soft. Familiar.

And for one heartbeat — one single second — Silver doesn’t move. He remembers. What it was like to be with someone who made him feel safe. Wanted. Known.

A familiar piercing scream, causes the two boys to pull away. “Allison.” Michael says, he looks back at Silver to see him nodding, “I’ll be right back.” Michael promises him before running towards Allison.

Silver stands frozen against the cold lockers, Michael’s kiss still burning on his lips. His heart hammers erratically in his chest, and his breath feels trapped.

“Aim and Shoot!”

Silver falls down, trying to tear off his sweatshirt, his scars burning. “Breathe,” He tells himself, shutting his eyes.

“Breathe,” he whispers to himself, but the words are hollow.

His chest tightens, every inhale a struggle.

His legs shake uncontrollably.

A wave of dizziness crashes over him, and he slides down to the floor, curling in on himself as tears prick his eyes.

“Silver!”

The voice breaks through the fog—urgent, familiar.

Scott’s face appears, concern etched deep in his eyes.

He kneels beside Silver, his voice calm but firm.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. Look at me.”

Silver blinks up at him, voice barely a whisper, “I can’t… breathe.”

Scott’s hand finds Silver’s shoulder, steadying him.

“Alright. Breathe with me, okay? In—slow… out…”

He demonstrates, drawing in a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

Silver tries to follow, shaky and uneven at first, but gradually his breaths even out.

Before Silver can even think about anything, it wasn’t a second later that Michael was thrown on the floor in front of the two as Jackson jumps on top of him. Erica runs over to pry Jackson off of Michael and Scott quickly pulls Michael off the ground holding him back.

“What the hell’s going on?” Harris calls out “Hey! Enough! Mr. McCall, do you want to explain yourself? Stilinski! Argents!” Harris calls out as Matt hands Scott back his tablet. “Here. You dropped this.” Harris takes the tablet out of Matt’s hands as he looks at the six teenagers around him. “All of you. Detention three o’clock.”

🦎

Michael follows Scott and Stiles to a table in the library. The two boys are surprised to see him sitting there,

“I’m gonna kill him.” Michael says quickly, turning to Stiles. “No you’re not. You’re going to find out who’s controlling him and then you’re gonna help us save him.” Stiles interjects.

“No, I was right, and we should’ve killed him already.” Stiles and Scott both glare at Michael. Michael sits up as Allison walks into the library. Shortly after the fight, Silver was rushed to the nurses office to calm down.

“Hey, what if it’s Matt?” Stiles asks the group. “I mean this whole thing comes back from the video, right?”

“Danny said that Matt was the one who found the two hours of footage missing.” Scott points out. “Exactly! He’s trying to throw suspicion off himself.”

“So, he makes Jackson kill, Isaac’s dad, one of Argent’s hunters and the mechanic working on your Jeep?” Scott asks.

“Yes!”

“Why?” Scott asks his best friend.

“Because… He’s evil.”

“You just don’t like him.” Scott points out, “The guy bugs me. I don’t know what it is. Just look at his face.”  Everyone looks over to see Matt offering Jackson some chips.

“Any other theories?” Scott asks as he quietly. “It wasn’t until Jackson got up out of his seat and left the library.

“No one leaves their seats.” Harris tells everyone as he follows Jackson out of the room. As soon as he leaves, Michael and Allison both follow Scott and Stiles over to Erica. “Stiles says you know how Jackson’s parents died.” Scott tells the girl.

“Maybe. Or maybe, I don’t want to talk to a hunter.”

“If I wanted you dead, you would be dead. Now talk.”

“It was a car accident. My dad was the insurance investigator and every time he sees Jackson drive by in his Porsche, he makes some comment about the huge settlement he’ll be getting when he’s eighteen.” Erica tells them.

“So not only is Jackson rich now, but he’s getting even richer at eighteen?” Stiles asks her, “Yep.”

“Blondie, that was rhetorical.” Michael tells Erica “There’s something so deeply wrong with that.” Stiles mutters “You know what? I could try to find the insurance report in my dad’s inbox. He keeps everything.” Erica opens up her laptop .

“Michael Heart, please report to the principal’s office.” Victoria Argent’s voice is heard as everyone looks up at Michael with a questioning look.

“I’ll be okay.” Michael tells Allison before walking away.

🦎

“The principal wanted to see me?” Michael asks, stepping into the office with a casual glance around.

Victoria Argent barely looks up from the stack of papers on her desk. “No—I did.”

Michael tenses slightly, straightening.

“I’m concerned about the detention today,” Victoria continues, setting the papers aside. “How Allison and Silver ended up in there with you, Mr. McCall, and Mr. Stilinski. A sink was ripped off the wall, Michael.”

Michael tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah… that was unfortunate.”

Victoria stands slowly, walking around her desk. “You’re lucky I’m here to explain that to people somehow, you realize that?”

“I’m doing the best I can,” Michael says, and for once, his voice is sincere.

Victoria studies him for a moment, softer but still firm. “We know that, Michael. We know we’re asking a lot. But remember what this is all for.”

His jaw tightens. “I haven’t forgotten.”

At that moment, the office door creaks open and Silver steps in, a nurse’s pass still in one hand. His cheeks are flushed, but his face is stony.

Victoria glances over. “Feeling better?”

Silver just nods, eyes flicking between them warily.

“Good,” she replies. “You’re still scheduled for detention. Michael will take you.”

🦎

“It means he was born after his mom died during a C-section,” Michael says flatly, eyes following Erica as she walks past. “They had to pull him out of her dead body.”

Allison winces. “So… was it an accident or not?”

“The word all over the report is ‘inconclusive,'” Stiles says, flipping through a worn folder. “No definitive answer.”

“So his parents could’ve been murdered?” Silver asks, eyes scanning the group, unsettled.

“If they were, then it fits with the Kanima myth,” Stiles explains. “It seeks out and kills murderers.”

“But is it Jackson doing it?” Allison asks, “Or whoever’s controlling him?”

A heavy silence settles over the group. No one has an answer.

“We have to talk to him. We have to tell him,” Scott says, already rising.

“Scott, no—” Allison and Stiles protest at once.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Silver mutters, then breaks off to follow. “Scott, wait!” Looking down the aisle both teens see Matt with a scratch on the back of his neck.

Scott runs over to him as Jackson runs across the ceiling, knocking out lights and books off shelves. Both teens protect their heads as rubble falls from the ceiling. “Erica!” Scott calls out as.

“Stiles! Allison!” Silver shouts. “Silver!” Michael yells, grabbing his hand and pulling him underneath him. He tries to cover Silver and Allison at the same time.

Silver looks up as she hears Erica scream out. “Scott!” He screams out as he sees him get pushed by Jackson. “Silver don’t.” Michael yells but it’s too late as he runs up to Scott.

Silver sits up rubbing her head as Scott pulls him behind him and they look up to see Jackson stand in front of a chalkboard. Everyone watches as Jackson with half of his face in the Kanima form writes a note on the board.

Stay out of my way or I’ll kill all of you

Silver reaches out for Scott’s hand as Jackson breaks through the window and out the building. “Scott,” Silver starts but the werewolf looks back to see Stiles and Allison with a seizing Erica and Allison kneeling over Matt.

“He’s alive.” Allison tells everyone. “Hey, we need to get her to a hospital.” Stiles says as Erica starts to whimper, “To Derek. Only to Derek.”

“When we get her to the hosp-“

“To Derek.” Erica interrupts Scott. Silver drops Scott’s hand, “Go.”

“Hey, Scott!”

“I’m staying with you,” Scott insists.

“He can’t take her alone. Not like this. And Matt—someone needs to call an ambulance,” Silver says. “You need to go. Just go.”

Scott’s eyes narrow. “This doesn’t feel right.”

“It’s okay,” Silver says quietly.

“No, it’s not. No, it’s not right,” Scott insists, his gaze flicking to Michael behind Silver.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Silver says quickly, voice tight.

“But it feels like it does…”

Silver takes a step back, pulling away.

“Go.”

Scott doesn’t move at first. Then he nods, eyes lingering on Silver before turning to help Stiles carry Erica out.

“You made the right choice, Arthur.” Michael says quietly.