Chapter 55

“This doesn’t seem so bad,” Stiles said as he and Lydia looked around. They were in Mexico, about to negotiate with the Calaveras.

“Stiles, this could be the stupidest plan we’ve ever come up with. You’re aware of that, right?” Lydia asked exasperatedly.

He nodded. “I’m aware it’s not our best…”

Silver tilted his head. “Do we have good plans?”

“We are going to die,” Lydia said flatly, making Stiles glance at her.

“Are you saying that as a Banshee, or are you just being pessimistic?” Stiles asked as they started walking.

“I’m saying it as a person who doesn’t wanna die.”

“Okay… would you mind restricting any talk of death to actual Banshee predictions?”

“I was kinda hoping to go to the club,” Ren chimed in, hands in his pockets like this was a casual Friday night.

Silver shot him a look. “You can’t even hold your staff correctly. You keep hitting yourself in the legs.”

“I’m getting better,” Ren defended, raising his hands like that proved something.

“You’re not,” Silver deadpanned.

“Both of you, enough,” Lydia said, pushing forward with the air of an exhausted older sister. “We need to move.”

They walked up to the building, where two men stood at the entrance.

“¿Estamos aquí para la fiesta?” Lydia asked smoothly.

The men exchanged a glance, then shook their heads. Lydia sighed.

Stiles pulled a card from his pocket and held it up to one of the men. The guard glanced at the nearby camera, and Stiles lifted the card toward it. A few seconds later, the door buzzed open.

Taking a steadying breath, they stepped inside. The heavy door shut behind them as the hall pulsed with bass, the music rattling the walls. Stiles instinctively grabbed onto Lydia’s arm so they wouldn’t get separated.

At the bar, four shot glasses were placed in front of them. The group exchanged confused looks.

Stiles reached for his wallet, but a hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

“No. On the house. Most American teenagers don’t cross the border to refuse a drink,” someone said behind him.

“We didn’t come here to drink,” Silver said, voice cool. He reached into his pocket, then dropped one of the bullets Lydia had found on the loft floor into a shot glass. The clink of metal against glass cut through the music like a warning bell.

💰

“Severo hates this music. Me? I’ve always loved the music of youth. This especially—it has a savage energy,” Araya said, her tone smooth and calculating.

“We’re here for Derek Hale,” Lydia said firmly.

“We know you have him,” Lydia said, voice steady. “We’ve heard you can be bought.” She didn’t flinch as Stiles set neat stacks of cash on the scarred wood of the desk. “That’s fifty thousand for Derek.”

Araya chuckled, amusement sliding into disbelief. “Now, where does a teenage boy get money like this? Japanese mafia?” Heads around the room shifted; somewhere a gun was cocked. The sudden metallic click made Stiles’s grin wobble.

“Not smart to come alone,” Araya said softly, letting the room’s tension sit on them like heat.

Stiles bristled. “What makes you think we’re alone?” He met her gaze, shoulders back.

Araya’s smile thinned into a scowl. “You brought a wolf into my home?” she asked, venom slow as honey.

“We brought an Alpha,” Stiles shot back.

Ren, leaning casually against the bar, raised his glass like he’d been there all night. “Technically, we also brought sarcasm, a banshee, and one very protective pirate.”

Silver nudged him sharply in the ribs. “Not the time, Ren.”

Ren winced but grinned anyway. “What? I’m setting the tone.”

Silver didn’t smile. He looked at the men in the room—at Severo, looming like a statue near the stage—and then at Araya. “We don’t want a fight,” he said, low. “We want Derek. We’ll pay. Walk away and we all go home.”

Araya’s expression softened into something like pity. “My friends… I don’t think you’re aware of your poor timing. Do you know what the dark moon is?”

“The part of the lunar phase when the moon is least visible in the sky,” Lydia answered quickly.

Araya nodded slowly, then leaned forward so the lamplight cut across her face. “But do you know its meaning?” Her voice dropped, intimate and cruel. “Grief and loss, mija. I wonder why, when you and your friends have suffered so much loss, you would risk it again for someone like Derek Hale.”

Stiles’ jaw tightened. “‘Cause we don’t like to lose.”

A crackle from Severo’s radio cut through the bar noise. “Nadie en la cantina. Puerta principal clara, sur clara.” He barked the report. “Norte? ¿Norte?” He got no reply. “¿Dónde está el norte?”

“Silver, take ten off the table,” Scott’s voice ordered through the radio.

Silver quickly removed a stack of cash.

“Maybe you should just take the deal,” Ren whispered tensely.

For a heartbeat, Araya considered. She sighed theatrically. “While I am keen to follow the warning of a banshee, I’m going to have to decline.” Her words were polite paper over steel.

Stiles sighed dramatically. “Awww, come on. Just give us Derek. You don’t want him anyway! Haven’t you noticed what a downer he is? No sense of humor, poor conversationalist—seriously, he kills a party vibe.”

Ren leaned in with mock earnestness. “He does brood like it’s a full-time job.”

Silver groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Both of you shut up before we actually get shot.”

Araya didn’t laugh. Her eyes flicked to Severo. “Severo? Show them how the Calaveras negotiate.”

💰

“He’s awake.” Silver said, standing over Scott as he slowly opened his eyes. The sound made Stiles, Malia, Ren and Kira rush over.

“Scott, you okay?” Stiles asked quickly, helping Silver haul him upright.

Scott winced, blinking at the dim room. “Yeah… but they don’t have him. They don’t have Derek.”

Ren let out a short sigh, leaning back against the wall. “We know. But right now, they’ve got Lydia.”

That snapped Scott’s head up, eyes wide. “Lydia? What do they want with Lydia?”

Ren lifted his hands helplessly. “Not exactly giving out pamphlets, big guy. They just dragged her off.”

Scott immediately looked toward the barred door, scanning the room for a way out. Silver caught the frantic motion and sighed softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We already looked. No way out. Trust me, Ren tried every corner.”

Ren held up his hands again. “Hey, I almost got through the vents.”

“You got stuck in the vents,” Silver corrected flatly.

“Details,” Ren muttered, rolling his eyes.

Kira stepped in quickly, “We already checked. A lot of people have.”

Malia crossed her arms. “I say when that door opens again, we take out whoever’s standing there and run for it.”

“What about Lydia?” Kira asked.

Malia frowned at her like it was the strangest question in the world. “What about her?”

Silver’s jaw tightened, his voice sharp. “We’re not leaving without her.”

“Why not?” Malia asked bluntly.

“Because we don’t leave without people. Remember? We talked about this?” Stiles said, stepping in. “Rules of the wild kingdom don’t apply to friends.”

Ren gave Malia a crooked grin. “Besides, you’d miss her. Who else rolls her eyes at you like she does?”

Malia blinked at him, unimpressed. “If she was weak and injured, yeah. If hunting had been bad that season, I would eat her. Then I’d leave.”

Ren’s grin faltered. “Okay, wow. So not a metaphor.”

“Believe it or not, that’s progress,” Stiles muttered, rubbing his temples.

Scott finally straightened, the weight of Alpha certainty settling over him. “All right, guys. We’re not dead yet, and that means Araya wants something.”

Everyone looked at him.

“But if the Calaveras don’t know where Derek is… that means they didn’t take him from the loft, right?” Kira asked.

“Maybe he just left on his own?” Ren suggested, a little too hopefully.

Scott shook his head, brows furrowed. “Maybe someone else got to him…”

Silver’s expression darkened, protective instinct cutting through the room like a blade. “Then we better figure out who—before Lydia pays the price.”

💰

“Oh, God…” Lydia whispered as she was shoved into a room where Scott sat chained to a metal chair, his head hanging low.

“Let her go!” Scott’s voice snapped up instantly, pulling against his restraints. “Look, you’ve got me. Just let the others go.”

One of the Calaveras hunters shoved Lydia into another chair and snapped chains around her wrists.

“Where’s the other one?” Araya asked, her voice sharp as she scanned the room. Her gaze snapped toward her men. “I told you to bring the hunter in as well.”

The men exchanged uneasy looks.

A second later, the door slammed open—Silver stumbled in, blood running from a split lip, his jacket torn from already fighting them off. His eyes darted immediately to Lydia and Scott, jaw clenching.

“There you are,” Severo muttered darkly. He strode forward before Silver could move and yanked him across the room by the arm, slamming him down at a table.

“Hands off him!” Scott barked, his chains rattling violently.

“Your hand goes here.” Severo growled, forcing Silver’s palm flat against a control box.

Silver gritted his teeth. “What the hell is this?”

“Let me explain what’s about to happen,” Severo said almost casually, his voice carrying a cruel amusement. He glanced at Araya, then back at Silver. “This one—this hunter—he’s tied to the Alpha. So… he turns the dial on the wolf. If he doesn’t?” Severo’s smile widened as his eyes flicked to Lydia. “I turn the dial on the banshee.”

Lydia’s breath caught in her throat, her chains clinking as she stiffened.

Silver’s eyes went cold, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t touch her.”

Severo hummed as though bored. “Are you sure, chico? One of your friends heals. The other… not so much.”

Silver’s glare could’ve cut steel. “You actually think I’m going to play along with this?”

Scott jerked against his chair, his voice desperate but furious. “What are you doing? Is this a game to you?”

Araya finally stepped forward, her presence commanding the room. “This isn’t a game, lobito. It’s a test. We ask questions. You answer? Nobody gets hurt. You don’t… we turn on the dial.”

Scott’s breathing slowed, his gaze flicking between Lydia and Silver—both of them caught in the trap, both at risk.

Silver never looked away from Severo, his entire body coiled with restrained violence, like he was one second away from tearing the man apart.

“Do what they say. Okay?” Scott rasped, his chest heaving as the electricity crackled faintly through the restraints. His gaze locked on Silver’s, steady despite the pain. “Whatever they want. I can take it.”

Silver’s throat worked. “Scott—”

“Silver.” Scott cut him off, steady and firm. “I can take it.”

Silver’s nostrils flared, but finally he exhaled through his nose and gave the smallest of nods.

“So…” Araya’s voice cut through the tension. She leaned against the table, eyes flicking between them. “We don’t know where Derek is. We want to find him as well. You know who took him.”

Scott let out a sharp scoff. “What? How would I know that?”

“That doesn’t sound like an answer to me,” Araya replied coolly.

“We don’t know!” Lydia snapped, her voice cracking slightly as she jerked against her chains. “Why do you think we’re here?”

Araya sighed, as though tired of their resistance. She gestured lazily. “Hunter. Turn the dial.”

Silver let out a humorless laugh, leaning forward in his seat. “I’ll turn something, but it won’t be the dial.”

Lydia whipped her head toward him. “Silver—”

Araya chuckled, then flicked her hand at Severo. “Perhaps the wolf needs… stronger persuasion.”

Before Silver could brace, Severo’s hand shot out, gripping the side of Silver’s face—fingers digging cruelly into the pale scar tissue surrounding his dead eye. Pain flared white-hot as Severo forced his thumb toward the sensitive socket.

Scott snapped, his voice breaking. “Stop! Don’t touch him!”

Araya smirked. “Ah… there it is. His weakness. You love him, don’t you, Alpha?”

Scott’s eyes blazed red. “If you hurt him—”

“You’ll what? Break free?” Araya taunted.

Scott shouted, desperation cracking his voice. “Do it, Silver. Please—just do it!”

Silver froze, glaring at him for a long moment, his chest aching as if the command itself had cut him open. Finally, jaw locked, he grabbed the dial.

“Let’s start at one,” Araya said smoothly.

Silver’s hand trembled violently, every instinct screaming not to—but he forced the dial anyway. Electricity surged through Scott, his body jerking against the chair as he groaned in pain. Silver’s throat tightened, burning with guilt like he’d betrayed the person he loved most.

“Tell me!” Araya demanded, her voice sharp. “Who actually has Derek? Who had a reason? A vendetta particular to the Hales?”

Scott’s head lolled back, breathing ragged. “I said—I don’t know…”

“Oh, you don’t know because you haven’t figured it out yet!” Araya snapped. “So think! Who could have taken him?”

“Tres,” Severo ordered, motioning to Silver.

Silver’s hand tightened on the dial. He shot Severo a filthy glare. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“It’s okay,” Scott rasped, lifting his head enough to meet Silver’s eye. “It’s okay.”

Silver’s chest heaved, fighting back everything in him that screamed to stop. Finally, he twisted the dial again. Scott groaned, muscles straining against the chains.

“Who had the power?” Araya pressed. “The power of a shapeshifter?”

Scott shook his head weakly. “I don’t… know…”

“Oh! Someone who could have turned without you knowing. Turned, but not by a bite!” Araya hissed, circling him.

“I don’t know!” Scott yelled back through clenched teeth.

“¡Diez!” Araya barked suddenly, her eyes snapping toward Silver.

Silver’s head snapped up, eye blazing. “Hell no.”

“¡DIEZ!” Araya roared, stepping forward.

Silver didn’t move, glaring at her like he was ready to kill.

With a frustrated hiss, Araya shoved both Silver and Severo aside and twisted the dial herself. Scott screamed, his roar echoing off the walls—until the sound broke into something deeper, primal. His eyes burned red as the chains shattered under his strength.

Everyone froze.

“Say the name, Scott,” Araya demanded.

Scott lifted his head slowly, his voice low, dangerous. “Kate.”

Silver’s chest was still heaving, his hand hovering near the dial, trembling. His good eye found Scott instantly, relief and fear tangled together.

💰

Silver sat on the hood of the Jeep, Scott’s sunglasses tilted low over his face. They didn’t fit quite right, the frame a little crooked, but he hadn’t bothered to fix them. Anything to cover the redness around his injured eye.

Scott stood in front of him, arms folded tight against his chest, his jaw set. “You should’ve told me it hurt this bad.”

“I’m fine,” Silver muttered, though the way his shoulders hunched said otherwise.

“No, you’re not.” Scott’s voice softened but stayed firm. He reached out, fingertips brushing gently along Silver’s jaw, careful to avoid the scar tissue. “You let them push you around, and you didn’t even flinch. Now you’re pretending like it doesn’t matter.”

Silver sighed, catching Scott’s wrist before he could pull back. “If I flinched, they’d have gone harder. You know that.”

Scott’s eyes burned red for a second before he forced them back. “I hate that they touched you there. I hate that they knew where to go for the one place you can’t fight back.”

“Hey.” Silver tugged lightly on his sleeve, pulling him closer until their foreheads touched. “You didn’t fail me. Don’t carry that.”

Lydia cleared her throat, shifting her weight with her arms crossed. “For the record, you should still let me put something on it. Aloe, concealer—literally anything to keep it from getting worse.”

“Agreed,” Ren said, standing nearby with his own scowl. “Because no offense, man, but the sunglasses make you look like you’re trying too hard.”

Silver smirked faintly without moving away from Scott. “Why? You don’t think I pull them off?”

“You look like you lost a bet,” Ren deadpanned.

Scott ignored them both, thumb brushing softly under Silver’s jaw. “You’re not hiding from me,” he murmured. “Not with this. Not with anything.”

Silver’s smirk softened, his voice quieter. “I know. That’s why it’s okay.”

Scott kissed his temple, lingering there before pulling back. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop fussing over you.”

“Yeah,” Silver said with a chuckle, “that’s why I let you.”

Lydia and Ren exchanged a look — somewhere between exasperated and relieved — before Stiles finally broke the moment.

“So, what now?” he asked, glancing between them as Scott stepped forward.

“She thinks she knows where we can find Derek,” Scott said, his tone clipped but steady. His gaze swept toward the girls leaning against the Jeep, weariness etched across their faces.

“She’s gonna tell us where?” Malia asked, folding her arms.

“Uh, actually,” Scott corrected, “she’s giving us a guide.”

Right on cue, the low rumble of a motorcycle cut through the night. A sleek black bike slid to a stop in front of them, the rider swinging a leg over before pulling off her helmet. Braeden’s eyes flicked over the group, sharp and unimpressed.

Ren instinctively stepped forward, protective, his brows knit. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“Right now,” Braeden said smoothly, tucking her helmet under her arm, “I’m the only one who’s gonna take you to La Iglesia.”

Lydia raised her eyebrows. “The Church?”

“What’s ‘The Church?'” Stiles asked, suspicion thick in his voice.

Braeden’s mouth curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “It’s not a place you’ll find God.”

Silver finally pushed off the hood, arms crossed over his chest. “Great. So we’re following a stranger on a motorcycle into some creepy church that’s apparently not about God. Totally not suspicious.”

Ren smirked faintly, though his eyes stayed narrowed on Braeden. “Yeah. Real comforting.”

Scott exhaled slowly, trying to center them all. “She’s our only lead. If we want to find Derek, we don’t have a choice.”

💰

The Jeep bumped along the dirt road, headlights slicing through the night as Braeden’s motorcycle guided them further into the dark. Inside, the tension was thick, every word waiting to fall heavy.

Finally, Malia leaned forward, impatience breaking the silence. “Okay, I’ll ask… Who’s Kate Argent?”

Kira hesitated, then raised her hand timidly. “Uh… yeah, I’d like to know too,” she admitted, her voice awkward as she shrugged.

Scott’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. He didn’t answer right away, eyes darting to the rearview mirror where Silver sat, leaning against the window. He was fidgeting with Scott’s sunglasses in his hands. Ren was next to him, arms crossed and expression hard, like he was ready to shield his friend if the past came down too heavy.

“Well,” Stiles cut in sharply, “we were at her funeral, so I’d love to know how she crawled out of a casket buried six feet under.”

Scott shook his head. “She was never in it.”

The words landed like a stone, and Silver finally spoke. His voice was low, but steady. “She was my aunt. And a total sociopath.”

Everyone’s attention swung toward him, even Braeden glancing back briefly in her mirror.

“You don’t have to—” Kira started gently.

“Yes, he does,” Malia interrupted. “If she’s out there, we need to know everything.”

Scott glanced briefly at Silver, who gave the faintest nod before Scott backed him up. “She’s right. You guys need to know.” His voice softened as he added, “But only if you’re okay with it.”

Silver exhaled slowly, tapping his fingers against his knee. “One thing I know for sure is Kate was the one who set the fire that killed most of Derek’s family.” His tone hardened as he continued, “She didn’t just hunt. She enjoyed it.”

Scott nodded grimly, picking up where Silver left off. “Some of them survived, like Cora and Peter…”

“And a very angry Peter,” Lydia added dryly, her voice tinged with old resentment.

“Yeah,” Scott said. “He’s the one who bit me.” His eyes flicked again toward Silver.

“And he’s the one who finally caught up to Kate,” Lydia continued, “and killed her. Or so we thought.”

“We saw her buried,” Stiles said stubbornly.

“No,” Scott corrected, his voice low but firm. “We saw a casket. She wasn’t in it. The Calaveras heard Kate had been killed by an Alpha’s claws, but her body was already healing. Faster and faster with every hour closer to the full moon. She was coming back. So they switched the bodies.”

Ren shifted forward, his eyes sharp. “And just like that, they let her walk out into the world again?”

“They didn’t let her,” Scott said carefully. “If a Hunter is bitten, they’re supposed to take their own life before they change. It’s the Code. The Calaveras enforce it like law.”

Silver gave a short, bitter laugh. “Kate never cared about the Code. Not about family, not about rules. She only cared about herself.”

“Good for her,” Malia muttered. “I wouldn’t do it either.”

Scott turned his head slightly, incredulous. “Would you kill half a dozen people to escape? Because that’s what she did.”

Malia just shrugged. “Honestly? Probably.”

Ren shot her a sharp look, his tone cutting. “That’s not survival. That’s just murder.”

Kira frowned, her voice soft but unsettled. “So… Kate’s a werewolf now?”

Scott hesitated, his voice dropping heavy. “I don’t know. But there’s a saying: sometimes the shape you take reflects the person you are.”

The tension in the Jeep hadn’t eased since the mention of Kate. Lydia finally broke the silence, her voice sharp with disdain.

“What kind of shape is a sociopathic bitch?” she muttered under her breath.

Silver hummed, leaning back against the seat,  slipping on Scott’s sunglasses. “Probably not that different from her original shape,” he said dryly. Ren snorted faintly beside him, though his eyes stayed sharp out the window.

The moment shattered when the Jeep jolted violently, rocking hard enough to throw everyone forward in their seats. Stiles cursed under his breath, wrenching the wheel as Braeden pulled her motorcycle to a stop. Everyone spilled out of the vehicle in seconds.

“What happened?” Braeden demanded, tugging her helmet off.

“I don’t know—it felt like we hit something,” Stiles muttered, crouching low to inspect the Jeep.

“We don’t have time for this,” Braeden snapped. “Scott, we need to get there before night. It’s too dangerous otherwise.”

Scott looked torn, his eyes darting from the Jeep to his friends.

“Go,” Stiles said firmly.

Scott shook his head. “Not without you.”

“Dude.” Stiles shot him a look. “Someone needs to find Derek. We’ll figure something out. We always do. Just go.”

Scott hesitated, but then Silver stepped forward, catching his hand before he could move. Their fingers laced tight, grounding both of them in the chaos.

“Be careful out there,” Silver said softly, voice low enough that it was meant for Scott more than anyone else. His other hand brushed lightly at Scott’s wrist, almost trembling.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” Scott whispered fiercely, searching Silver’s face. His thumb brushed unconsciously over Silver’s cheek, lingering near the sunglasses shielding his injured eye. “Not if there’s a chance—”

“You have to,” Silver said gently. He tried to smile, even though it wavered. “We both know you do. Derek needs you.”

Scott’s throat worked. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to Silver’s, breathing like he was trying to memorize the moment. “I’ll come back. I swear it.”

“You better,” Silver murmured. Then, softer, almost teasing: “Don’t make me come drag your ass back myself.”

A laugh slipped out of Scott, even though it was tight with worry. He kissed Silver’s temple, lingering. “I’ll be careful.”

“Don’t die,” Silver said firmly, his voice breaking just a little.

Scott gave him one last squeeze before forcing himself to let go, turning toward Braeden’s bike.

Behind them, Lydia crossed her arms, deadpan. “Adorable. But can we schedule the dramatic goodbye for a time when we’re not possibly about to die in the desert?”

Ren, standing close to Silver like a quiet guard, smirked faintly. “Give them a second, Lydia. You’d be this dramatic too if you had a boyfriend.”

Lydia scoffed. “And you cry when I kill a spider.”

Before Ren could bite back with a retort, Malia crouched near the Jeep, frowning. “Stiles, I don’t think we hit something—I think something hit us.” She yanked something sharp and bone-like from beneath the chassis.

“What the hell is that?” Stiles demanded.

Ren took the fragment from Malia, turning it over in his hands. His expression darkened as he lifted it closer, scenting the air faintly. Whatever recognition hit him made his shoulders go rigid.

“Yeah,” he muttered grimly, passing a look around at the others. “You’re gonna want to get the Jeep running. Now.”

A while later, Lydia leaned against the Jeep, arms crossed as Stiles frantically worked beneath the hood. Her nerves were frayed, her voice sharp. “Maybe we should just walk.”

Stiles’ head shot up, glare sharp enough to cut. “Hey, I will never abandon this Jeep. You understand me? Ever. Ever. Ever.” He bent back down, muttering to himself as he worked.

Lydia rolled her eyes, yanking a wrench out of the toolbox like she was about to throw it at him. Instead, she set it down with a clatter, rubbing the back of her neck in frustration.

“Work faster, Stiles…” Malia muttered, her gaze locked on the horizon.

Ren moved up beside her, scanning the shadows with sharp, unblinking eyes. Silver joined them, standing just at his shoulder, his jaw clenched as he gripped the strange bone like a weapon.

“There’s something out here with us,” Malia said, her voice low and certain.

💰

“Lydia, could you please hold the light still for a second? It’s really hard to see anything if you keep shaking it like that…” Stiles muttered, half-buried under the Jeep’s hood.

“I’m shaking it this way because we’re stranded in the middle of nowhere, with your broken-down Jeep, while something razor-clawed and homicidal is prowling around. Forgive me for being terrified,” Lydia shot back, voice sharp but wobbling at the edges.

“Okay, well… just be slightly less terrified. And hold this.” Stiles shoved a greasy piece of metal into her hand.

Lydia peered down at it, unimpressed. “What is this?”

“No idea. I’m hoping it’s not important.”

“Great,” Silver muttered from where he leaned against the Jeep, arms crossed, Scott’s sunglasses thrown in the Jeep, as he let Lydia convince him to put lotion on it.

Ren snorted beside him. “Yeah, real confidence-inspiring, Stiles. Let’s hope that mystery part wasn’t, I don’t know, essential to keeping us alive.”

“Not helping,” Stiles hissed.

“Not trying to,” Ren replied coolly, though he gave Silver a quick side glance, like he was keeping one eye on him too.

“Anything?” Kira asked, coming up beside Malia and Silver, squinting into the shadows.

“It’s too hard to see. We should’ve brought another flashlight,” Malia grumbled.

Kira moved to the headlights, angling her katana to catch the glow and reflect it further out. That’s when all of them saw it—something moving just beyond the edge of the light.

Malia’s body went taut. A growl rumbled low in her throat before anyone could stop her. She bolted.

“Malia!” Silver shouted, shoving off the Jeep and sprinting after her. Ren swore under his breath and immediately followed.

They pushed through brush, Silver’s chest tight as he shouted her friend’s name into the darkness. No answer. The silence felt heavier the farther he ran—until the air shifted.

Then—someone grabbed his shoulder. Silver whipped around, his knife was halfway out before he saw who it was.

“Ugh, it’s me. It’s me,” Malia groaned. She was clutching her side.

Silver’s eyes dropped, panic flashing across his features when he saw the deep gash seeping through Malia’s shirt. “Oh my god—what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Malia panted. “But it’s big, it’s fast… and it cuts deep.”

“Dammit,” Silver muttered, ducking under her arm to take her weight. Ren appeared at her other side, expression grim as he helped support Malia.

“Between the two of us, we’ve got her,” Ren said quietly, catching Silver’s glance. “Let’s move.”

Together they hauled Malia back toward the Jeep, Silver’s jaw tight with worry.

💰

“You… You, please don’t do that ever again!” Stiles stammered once they got Malia into the Jeep, voice higher than usual.

Malia blinked at him. “Do what?”

“Take off like that! I thought you were—” he broke off, waving his hands. “I thought you were leaving.”

“I was running,” Malia said, confused.

“No, like… leaving leaving,” Stiles clarified, flustered.

Malia frowned, then softened slightly. “I wouldn’t leave without you.”

“Really?” he asked, startled.

“Yeah. Them?” She tilted her head toward the rest of the group. “I’d leave them.”

Silver snorted, despite everything. “Fair.”

Ren raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Shut up, Ren,” Silver muttered, though there wasn’t any bite in it.

“That doesn’t look good,” Lydia said, leaning over to peer at Malia’s cut.

“It’s okay,” Malia nodded, even as she winced.

“Are you sure? It looks deep,” Kira said carefully.

“I can feel it healing,” Malia replied stubbornly.

“You didn’t see anything?” Lydia pressed.

“Barely… but it had a strong scent,” Malia admitted.

“Like what?” Stiles asked, eyes darting nervously around.

“Like death.

Before the silence could stretch, the Jeep rattled to life again. Stiles whooped in triumph, slapping the steering wheel. They drove on through the dark, tension hanging heavy over the group.

Finally, the crumbling silhouette of the church rose out of the desert. Braeden and Scott came running out just as the Jeep pulled up.

“Is that him?” Malia asked breathlessly, staring toward the figure Scott was half-dragging, half-guiding forward.

“Uh… sort of,” Stiles said, wincing.

It was Derek. Or more specifically—
the teenage version of Derek Hale.