Episode 3

BEACON HILLS PRESERVE – NIGHT

The dense woods of Beacon Hills were alive with the sounds of crickets and rustling leaves. Billy and Breanne, two teenagers out on a late-night adventure, wandered deeper into the woods, oblivious to the lurking danger.

Billy crouched down near a bush, shining his flashlight on a small creature scurrying past. "Ah! Got one!" he exclaimed, holding up a jar with the small animal inside.

Breanne, standing a few feet away, looked back at him, exasperated. "What are you doing, dumbass? You're supposed to put holes in the lid. Otherwise, you'll kill them."

Billy's excitement faded as he glanced at the jar. "Do I have to let him go?"

Breanne crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. "Do you want him to die?"

Billy hesitated, but before he could respond, Breanne's face twisted in concern. Something didn't feel right. The air was thick, and she could hear the faint rustling of something much larger than a small animal.

"Billy?" she whispered, her voice now laced with panic.

Billy stood up, sensing her fear. "What's wrong?"

Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the trees, followed by heavy footsteps. Breanne's heart raced as she grabbed Billy's arm. "Run! Run!" she screamed, her voice trembling with terror.

Billy stumbled backward, his jar dropping to the ground. "He's gonna get in, he's gonna get inside..."

Breanne, now frantic, shouted, "Shut up! Shut up!"

But it was too late. From the darkness of the woods, Boyd—feral and out of control—burst through the trees with a monstrous growl, his werewolf form on full display.

"RAWRRRRR!" Boyd roared, his glowing yellow eyes fixed on the two terrified teenagers.

SCOTT ON THE PHONE WITH DEREK – SOMEWHERE IN BEACON HILLS

Scott sped down a dark road, his phone pressed to his ear as he tried to keep up with Derek. His thoughts were still buzzing from the chaos at the bank. Blake's red eyes had been the biggest shock of all. An Alpha—someone with power, someone who wasn't just some random new guy at school.

"You lost them?" Derek's voice crackled through the phone, frustration clear.

"Yeah, I kind of had to," Scott replied, the wind rushing past him as he accelerated down the road. Blake's presence still weighed heavily on his mind. His red Alpha eyes hadn't just surprised Scott—they'd thrown everything into question.

"That wasn't exactly the plan..." Derek's tone was sharp, the tension in his voice obvious.

Scott's grip tightened on the handlebars. "I know," he said, his voice strained. "Which is why I think that we should stick together. Trust me—Boyd's too strong, too fast, and way too angry for one person to handle. We've got to do this together."

Derek was silent for a moment, then he spoke again. "Blake… Can we trust him? He's an Alpha—he has red eyes. And with Deucalion's pack lurking around…"

Scott hesitated. Blake had revealed his true nature, but that didn't mean they fully understood his intentions. "I don't know," Scott admitted. "He helped us at the bank, but I don't know where he stands. We need to figure that out."

"I don't like it," Derek muttered through the phone. "Another Alpha in town—especially now—it's suspicious."

Scott couldn't disagree. "Look, I'm heading to the preserve. We'll deal with Blake later. Right now, we've got to stop Boyd."

Derek exhaled, clearly uneasy. "Look, I'm at the trails by the entrance to the preserve. Can you meet me here?"

Scott glanced at the road ahead. The preserve wasn't far, but the uncertainty around Blake still gnawed at him. "Yeah... Just got to drop something off first," Scott replied.

His mind drifted back to Blake's appearance at the bank—the sheer power in his movements, the way he'd stepped in to protect Allison. But the red eyes, the Alpha status… It made him a potential threat. And with Deucalion's Alpha Pack lurking, Scott knew they couldn't take anything for granted.

BEACON HILLS – STREETS

Blake moved through the dark streets of Beacon Hills, his sharp senses guiding him toward the woods. The chaotic events at the bank still lingered in his mind, but now wasn't the time to dwell on them. He had picked up Boyd's scent, and it was leading him toward the preserve.

There was something primal about the pull, something he couldn't ignore. As a werewolf, instincts mattered more than most things, and his werewolf senses were finely attuned. Boyd was close, and the moon's influence was only making things more dangerous.

Blake wasn't here because of anything supernatural in his life—his mom's job brought him to Beacon Hills. But with everything that had happened recently, staying out of the supernatural mess wasn't an option.

As he approached the edge of the preserve, Blake slowed, listening. The woods were dense, and somewhere out there, Boyd was moving through the trees like a wild animal. Blake wasn't sure if Scott and Derek would be here, but the scent of Scott was unmistakable.

Blake moved deeper into the forest, following the scent trail. He wasn't hiding his presence, but he also wasn't rushing into a fight. He knew Scott and Derek were just ahead, and he wasn't sure how they would react after everything that had happened at the bank.

Stepping out from the trees, Blake called out, "Scott."

Both Scott and Derek turned sharply at the sound of his voice, clearly startled by his sudden appearance. Scott's eyes widened, but Derek's expression hardened immediately.

"Blake?" Scott asked, his voice full of surprise. "What are you doing out here?"

Blake stepped forward, his posture calm. "I've been following Boyd's scent. It led me here."

Scott's brows furrowed slightly as he processed that. "You tracked him here?"

Blake nodded. "Yeah. He's not far off."

Derek narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious. "So, you just happened to be following Boyd? You're an Alpha, and you just show up?"

Blake held Derek's gaze without flinching. "I'm not here to make problems, Derek. I'm here to stop Boyd before he hurts anyone else."

Scott glanced at Derek, clearly gauging his reaction. "You're not with Deucalion's pack, right?" Scott asked, still wary.

Blake shook his head firmly. "No. I'm not part of his pack. I don't want anything to do with him."

Derek crossed his arms, still on edge. "You're an Alpha, though. You can understand why that raises questions."

Blake didn't back down. "I'm not here to explain myself, Derek. I'm just here to help. Whether you trust me or not, Boyd is the problem right now."

Scott seemed to take that in, nodding slowly. "We could use the help," he said, his tone less guarded.

Derek's eyes lingered on Blake for a moment longer before he gave a curt nod. "Fine. But if you get in our way, you'll regret it."

Blake smirked faintly, keeping his tone calm. "I'm not here to cause trouble. Let's focus on Boyd."

With the tension still thick, but the immediate distrust lessening, the three of them turned their focus back to the task at hand—tracking down Boyd before anyone else got hurt. The full moon wasn't making things any easier, but for now, they'd work together.

BEACON HILLS PRESERVE – NIGHT

The forest was eerily quiet, the shadows stretching long under the pale moonlight. Scott, Derek, and Blake moved cautiously through the dense trees, their senses heightened. The sounds of Boyd and Cora moving through the woods were faint, but unmistakable. The tension hung thick in the air, each of them focused on the task ahead.

Scott glanced at Derek, worry evident on his face. "Is it them?"

Derek, his jaw clenched, nodded as he scanned the dark woods. "We're not the only ones that decided to stick together."

Blake, who had been quiet for most of the walk, spoke up. "That could either be good or really bad," he said, his tone casual but with a hint of tension. "Depends on how far gone they are."

Scott looked over at Blake, appreciating the input. "Is that gonna make it easier or harder to catch them?"

Derek exhaled, clearly frustrated by the unpredictable nature of the situation. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice gruff.

Blake ran a hand through his hair, glancing around the dark forest. "They've been cooped up for a while. If they're anything like Boyd at the bank, they're probably not thinking clearly. It could get messy."

Scott's expression tightened. "Derek... I saw Boyd try to rip two little kids apart. Are they gonna do that to everyone they find?"

Derek turned to face Scott, his eyes cold and serious. "Everyone and anyone."

Blake's eyes flickered with concern, his voice steady but thoughtful. "So, we don't have a lot of time. The longer they're out here, the worse it's gonna get."

Scott nodded, his anxiety growing. "We've got to stop them before they hurt anyone else."

Blake shifted his weight, glancing between Scott and Derek. "We'll figure it out," he said, though the uncertainty lingered beneath his words. He wasn't some supernatural expert, but he knew enough to sense how dangerous this could get. "We just need to get to them before they completely lose it."

Derek, still focused on the task ahead, nodded curtly. "Stay close. If they catch your scent first, they'll come after you."

Blake let out a quiet, dry chuckle. "Good to know," he muttered, his nerves steady but his mind racing. He was out of his depth when it came to understanding the supernatural, but his instincts told him one thing—this wasn't going to end without a fight.

BEACON HILLS SWIMMING POOL – NIGHT

The harsh fluorescent lights flickered above the still water, casting eerie reflections on the tiled floor of the swimming pool. Lydia stood at the edge, her heart racing, eyes wide with horror as she stared down at the motionless figure lying near the pool.

Her breaths came in shallow gasps as the realization hit her—there was no movement. No sign of life. She swallowed hard, her hands trembling as panic surged through her.

"Oh, God..." Lydia whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Oh, my God."

She dropped to her knees beside the body, her pulse thundering in her ears. She reached out with trembling hands, fear and desperation clawing at her insides. "Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead," she muttered, her voice becoming more frantic with each repetition.

Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what to do, but all she could hear were her own whispers, each word more urgent than the last. "Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead…"

For a moment, she hesitated, frozen in place, her heart hammering in her chest. The silence was suffocating. The fear of what might happen next held her in place. She squeezed her eyes shut, the weight of the moment crashing down on her.

And then—nothing. No response.

Lydia's eyes flew open, and frustration surged through her. She was teetering on the edge of panic.

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed, her voice shaking with disbelief. "Are you kidding me?"

Just as she was about to scream in frustration, the tension snapped, and she let out a piercing scream that echoed through the empty pool.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

The scream was a visceral release, cutting through the quiet, raw and filled with terror. The lights above flickered again, casting long shadows across the room, as Lydia's voice reverberated through the cold, tiled space.

BEACON HILLS PRESERVE – NIGHT

The thick canopy of trees in Beacon Hills Preserve seemed to close in on Caitlin and Emily as they walked deeper into the woods. Every rustle of leaves, every distant howl, seemed amplified by the silence of the night. Even their playful banter couldn't shake the growing tension in the air.

"You coming?" Caitlin asked, turning back to Emily, who was nervously eyeing the path ahead.

"There's a snake out here the size of a train," Emily muttered, her voice shaking a little.

Caitlin laughed, trying to keep things light. "Then kick it!"

Emily scoffed, still clearly uneasy. "Yeah, if I kick it, it'll swallow my foot and drag me back to Mordor."

Their laughter felt forced, the fear lingering just beneath the surface. The girls continued walking, but Emily stumbled suddenly, letting out a startled yelp. "Ahhh! Oh, whoa! Whoops!" she said, quickly recovering. "Nice touch."

Caitlin smiled but noticed Emily's hands trembling. "You're nervous."

"You make me nervous," Emily admitted with a small smile.

"That a good thing or a bad thing?" Caitlin asked softly.

"All good," Emily reassured, though her voice faltered. But before the moment could settle, a noise from the trees sent Emily jumping again. "Ooh, ooh! That is a mood killer."

Caitlin tried to calm her, reaching out gently. "Better?"

Emily nodded, but the panic was already setting in. "I can't… I can't be in here…"

Without warning, Emily turned and bolted, her fear pushing her deeper into the forest.

"Emily, wait!" Caitlin shouted, chasing after her. "Emily! Emily? Emily, where are you?"

The sounds of Emily's frantic footsteps grew faint as she disappeared into the trees. Panic gripped Caitlin as she scanned the darkness. "Emily!" she screamed again, her voice growing desperate. "EMILY!"

Suddenly, Blake emerged from the shadows, his eyes sharp, his expression focused. He had been tracking Boyd and Cora through the preserve, but the sound of Caitlin's panic had caught his attention. He quickly scanned the area, taking in Caitlin's fear and the chaotic surroundings.

"Are you okay?" Blake asked, his voice calm but firm, stepping forward to steady Caitlin.

Caitlin, visibly shaken, stared at him, barely able to respond. "What...?"

Blake placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her in the moment. "You need to get out of here," he said, his voice cutting through her panic. "Now. It's not safe."

Scott appeared from the trees behind Blake, sharing the same urgency. "Listen to him," Scott said, nodding toward Blake. "You need to leave the woods, fast."

Caitlin, still overwhelmed, hesitated. "But Emily… I can't leave her."

Blake's eyes flickered with concern, but he remained composed. "We'll find her," he promised. "But right now, you need to go. Trust me. The faster you leave, the safer you'll be."

Caitlin, sensing the seriousness in Blake's voice, nodded shakily before turning and running out of the woods, her footsteps fading into the distance.

Once she was gone, Blake turned to Scott, his jaw clenched. "Emily's out here somewhere, and Boyd and Cora are close. If we don't find her soon…"

Scott nodded, fully aware of the danger they were facing. "We need to split up. Cover more ground."

Blake's red eyes flickered in the darkness as he considered the plan. "I'll take the east side. If I catch Boyd's scent, I'll let you know."

Scott agreed, watching as Blake turned and disappeared into the shadows of the forest. The tension was thick, but there was no time to waste. With Boyd and Cora out of control, every second counted.

BEACON HILLS SWIMMING POOL – NIGHT

The harsh glare of the pool lights cast long, eerie shadows over the otherwise pristine water, which now had dark red streaks reflecting across its surface. Stiles rushed into the swimming pool area, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked around for Lydia.

"Lydia?" he called out, his voice echoing in the vast, empty space. "Lydia?"

He spotted her sitting on the edge of the pool, her body trembling as she stared across the room.

"Lydia, are you okay?" Stiles asked, rushing over to her, his voice filled with concern.

Lydia looked up at him, her face pale and her voice shaky. "I'm okay…" She swallowed hard, pointing toward the far side of the pool. "That, over there…? Not okay."

Stiles followed her gaze, his eyes widening in horror as he saw the blood-soaked scene near the pool's edge. His stomach churned at the sight of the lifeless body sprawled on the tiles, the throat ripped open in a gruesome display of violence.

"Yeah, all right," Stiles muttered, trying to keep his composure. "I'm gonna call my dad."

Lydia blinked, still in a daze. "I already called 911."

Stiles turned to her, incredulous. "You called the police before you called me?"

Lydia furrowed her brow in confusion. "Am I supposed to call you first when I find a dead body?"

"Yes!" Stiles exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Yesssss!"

Before he could respond further, his phone rang, pulling him back to reality. It was Scott.

"Scott," Stiles answered quickly, "are you sure?"

On the other end of the line, Scott's voice sounded tense. "Yep," Stiles continued. "Throat ripped out, blood everywhere—it's like The Shining over here. If two little twin girls come out of the woods and start asking me to play with them forever and ever, I'm not gonna be surprised."

Scott's voice on the phone came out strained. "Can you get a little closer to make sure it was them?"

Stiles' eyes darted nervously to the bloody scene. "Make sure it was them? Scott, who else is going around ripping throats out?"

Scott sighed on the other end of the line. "Please, just do it."

Stiles groaned but moved cautiously toward the body, getting just close enough to see the extent of the injuries. "Yeah, it was them," he muttered grimly.

Scott, still on the phone, took a breath. "Okay, listen. A lot's happened here too. We found Boyd and Cora at the bank, but that's not all... Blake was there."

"Blake?" Stiles asked, stopping in his tracks, confusion clear in his voice.

"Yeah. He's an Alpha," Scott revealed. "His eyes were red, and… well, Derek and I weren't expecting it. I don't think any of us were."

Stiles ran a hand through his hair, trying to process the information. "So, he's not with Deucalion's pack?"

"No," Scott replied quickly. "At least, I don't think so. He helped us—he protected Allison. But something's off. We need to figure out more."

Stiles let out a slow breath, glancing back at Lydia, who was still shaking. "Blake's an Alpha, huh? Guess we're gonna need a little more than just 'figuring out'... This is getting out of hand."

Scott's voice softened. "We'll talk more when I get back. Just stay with Lydia and wait for my call."

"Yeah, all right," Stiles agreed, his mind still racing from Scott's revelation. "Stay safe, man."

"You too," Scott replied before hanging up.

Stiles pocketed his phone, turning back toward Lydia, still trying to process the whirlwind of information he'd just been hit with. Blake, an Alpha? Just one more mystery in the growing storm of chaos surrounding Beacon Hills.

BEACON HILLS PRESERVE – NIGHT

Blake and Scott moved quickly through the woods, the shadows of trees stretching tall in the dim moonlight. Their search for Emily had been fruitless, but that wasn't their only concern. Boyd and Cora were still on the loose, more feral and dangerous with each passing hour. Blake's mind raced, trying to piece everything together.

"Any sign of her?" Blake asked, breaking the tense silence, his voice calm but focused.

Scott shook his head, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. "No, she's gone. But now someone's dead because of Boyd and Cora."

Blake frowned, his jaw tightening. "We'll figure it out. But we can't let them hurt anyone else. We've got to stop them."

Scott nodded in agreement, though the weight of everything was starting to wear on him. "We need to find Derek and Isaac. They're not far."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Who's Isaac?"

"He's part of Derek's pack. You'll meet him soon," Scott replied, his tone flat, eyes scanning the surrounding trees.

After a few more moments of trekking through the dark woods, they finally spotted Derek and Isaac waiting by the edge of a clearing. Derek's face was hard, but as always, he was in control. Isaac, on the other hand, looked restless, pacing as they approached.

"They killed someone," Scott said immediately, cutting through the tension as they joined Derek and Isaac.

Derek's brow furrowed as he paced, clearly troubled. "This doesn't make any sense. The public pool is on the other side of the woods. We haven't tracked them anywhere near there."

Scott clenched his fists. "Derek, they killed someone. An innocent person is dead because of us."

Derek stopped pacing, frustration tightening his features. "How are they moving so fast? They shouldn't be this fast on foot."

Blake stepped forward, his voice steady but determined. "They're werewolves, Derek. But this isn't just about speed. They're out of control."

Scott chimed in, his voice filled with guilt. "They're more than out of control. Someone is dead, and it's our fault."

Derek clenched his jaw, the weight of responsibility heavy in his expression. "It's my fault."

Before Blake could say anything, Isaac's eyes narrowed as he focused on Blake. "Who's this?"

Blake turned to Isaac, keeping his calm demeanor. "Blake Grey. I've been helping Scott and Derek track Boyd and Cora."

Isaac didn't seem convinced, his tone turning suspicious. "And we're just supposed to trust you? How do we know you're not working for Deucalion?"

Blake's expression remained cool, but his voice took on a firmer tone. "I'm not part of Deucalion's pack. I've got my reasons for being here."

Derek stepped in, cutting off any further doubt. "He's not with Deucalion. Trust me, we've seen enough to know where his loyalties are."

Isaac still seemed hesitant, his gaze flicking between Scott and Derek. "So why is he here, then?"

Blake met Isaac's gaze evenly. "I'm here because people are dying. Boyd and Cora need to be stopped before they kill anyone else. We don't have time for anything else."

Scott, sensing the rising tension, stepped in to refocus the group. "We need help, Derek. Boyd and Cora are moving faster than we thought, and they're too dangerous for just the four of us."

Derek's face darkened. "We'll catch them."

Isaac, who had been silent, scoffed. "And then what? Hold them down until sunrise? We can't even keep up with them."

Derek let out a frustrated sigh. "Maybe it would be easier to just kill them."

Scott immediately shook his head. "Killing them isn't the right thing to do."

Blake, his voice calm but resolute, added, "There's got to be another way."

Isaac crossed his arms, looking between Scott and Blake. "What if it's the only way? If we can't catch them, what other option do we have?"

Scott's expression hardened, determination settling in. "We find someone who knows how to stop them."

Derek, still skeptical, narrowed his eyes. "And who exactly is going to help us?"

Scott glanced at Derek, then back at the others. "Someone who knows how to hunt werewolves."

BEACON HILLS SHERIFF'S STATION – NIGHT

The fluorescent lights hummed quietly as Sheriff Stilinski and Deputy Tara questioned Caitlin in one of the small interview rooms at the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Station. Caitlin sat nervously, her fingers fidgeting in her lap, her eyes still wide with fear from what had happened in the preserve. She hadn't expected to be here, trying to explain something that made no sense—not to her, and certainly not to the police.

Tara sat across from her, trying to keep her voice gentle and calm. "So, Caitlin, you and Emily... were the two of you drinking?"

Caitlin shook her head quickly. "No, no. We weren't drinking."

Tara exchanged a look with Sheriff Stilinski, who stood by the door, his face unreadable. "Anything else?" Tara pressed, leaning forward slightly. "Anything at all?"

Caitlin hesitated for a moment, then exhaled deeply. "We split a tab of X," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Stilinski frowned, stepping forward. "Well, MDMA can cause hallucinations, and it could have been laced with something, too," he explained, trying to remain professional while getting a better understanding of Caitlin's state.

Caitlin's head snapped up, and she scoffed. "You think I hallucinated?"

Stilinski raised an eyebrow, his expression calm but probing. "You think you saw a girl with glowing eyes and fangs?"

Caitlin's lips curled into a weak, incredulous smile, her fear momentarily giving way to nervous laughter. "And claws."

The sheriff sighed, exchanging another glance with Tara. "We're going to get you to the hospital," he said, his voice firm but kind. "Figure out exactly what it was that you took."

Caitlin bit her lip, her mind racing back to the terrifying moments in the woods. "What about the other three? The three guys?"

Tara leaned forward again. "We'll need better descriptions of them, too."

Stilinski nodded, moving toward the door. "Let's get an APB out on Emily. And the other girl, too, once we get something better than 'claws and fangs.'"

Caitlin's gaze shifted between the two, sensing that despite their professional demeanor, they didn't fully believe her story. Tara turned to Stilinski as they prepared to leave the room.

"You believe her?" Tara asked quietly, her voice laced with doubt.

Stilinski paused for a moment, glancing back at Caitlin, who was now staring blankly at the table in front of her. He let out a quiet sigh. "She saw something..."

Tara raised an eyebrow. "You mean someone?"

The sheriff didn't respond, but the unspoken understanding hung in the air between them. Something had happened in those woods—something that couldn't be easily explained.

BEACON HILLS GROCERY STORE – NIGHT

Scott pushed a shopping cart down the grocery aisle, his mind focused on what he was going to say to Argent. Blake walked alongside him, casually inspecting the items on the shelves, but his attention was mostly on Scott.

"So, we're meeting up with a hunter to help with Boyd and Cora?" Blake asked, lifting a box of cereal before putting it back. "Do you really think this guy will help?"

Scott sighed. "I don't know. He's... complicated. But he's the only one who can help us catch them without killing them."

Blake nodded, trying to process it all. "Hunter, huh? What's his deal?"

Scott glanced at Blake. "He used to be part of a family that hunted werewolves."

Blake's brow furrowed slightly. "Sounds... intense."

Scott chuckled slightly, though the tension was still obvious. "Yeah, that's one way to put it."

Blake shrugged casually. "Well, at least we're not going in blind. But I gotta ask... Why is a hunter your best bet?"

Scott hesitated for a moment before replying. "Because he knows how to catch them without killing them. We can't take them down ourselves."

Blake shook his head with a smile. "This keeps getting weirder. But I trust you."

Scott glanced over at Blake and grinned. "Thanks for coming with me, by the way."

Blake waved it off. "No big deal. I needed to grab a few things anyway."

Scott chuckled, the tension between them easing just a little. "Right. Grocery shopping during a werewolf crisis. You're definitely handling this better than I would."

Blake grinned. "Supernatural problems or not, a guy's gotta eat."

They turned a corner, and Scott's eyes landed on Chris Argent standing near the dairy section, carefully inspecting cartons of eggs. Blake noticed Scott suddenly tense up.

"There he is," Scott muttered under his breath.

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Who? The hunter?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah."

Blake peered down the aisle, trying to get a glimpse of Argent. He squinted, then recognition dawned on him. "Wait... him? That's Allison's dad, right? I met him the other day."

Scott nodded, exhaling deeply. "Yeah, that's him."

Blake gave Scott a sideways glance. "And I didn't realize Allison is your ex?"

Scott shot him a sheepish look. "Yeah, I guess I didn't mention that."

Blake smirked. "That might've been good to know."

Scott sighed. "I know, it's complicated. Let's just focus on convincing him to help."

They slowly approached Argent, who was muttering to himself as he picked up another carton of eggs.

"Had to be the one with the cracked eggs…" Argent grumbled under his breath, shaking his head.

Scott cleared his throat. "Uh, hi, Mr. Argent."

Argent turned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he recognized Scott. His gaze then flicked over to Blake, and his expression shifted to one of faint recognition.

"Scott," Argent said, his voice neutral. "Blake, right? You're the one Allison introduced me to."

Blake nodded. "Yeah, that's me. Good to see you again, Mr. Argent."

Argent looked between the two of them, his suspicion evident. "What's going on?"

Scott shifted nervously. "We need your help. It's about Boyd and Cora."

Argent's brow furrowed. "Boyd and Cora? Why would I care about anyone connected to Derek?"

Blake stayed quiet, watching the exchange, sensing the tension between them.

Scott took a deep breath. "Because they're out of control. They've already killed someone, and they're going to kill more people if we don't stop them."

Argent's gaze hardened. "And you think I'm going to help you with that? Why would I?"

Scott opened his mouth to respond, but Blake cut in, sensing an opportunity to ease the tension. "Because you've got the skills and the experience to catch them without killing them. Scott told me you're the only one who can do that."

Argent's gaze flicked to Blake. "And what exactly is your involvement in this?"

Scott quickly jumped in. "Blake's been helping me out with this. He's... like me."

Argent's expression hardened as he realized Blake was also a werewolf. "You're a werewolf?"

Blake nodded calmly. "Yeah, but I'm not part of anything dangerous. Just trying to help out where I can."

Argent's eyes narrowed, but he didn't seem completely dismissive. "And why should I trust either of you?"

Scott's voice softened. "Because you can stop this. You know how to stop them without hurting anyone else. We don't have time to handle this alone."

Argent stared at Scott for a long moment, his grip tightening on the shopping basket. "Why should I care about saving anyone connected to Derek?"

Blake, sensing the frustration building, took a step forward. "Look, we know you don't owe us anything, but you've seen what happens when things like this get out of hand. You can stop it before more people get hurt."

Argent's jaw clenched as he weighed his options, then he sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Scott. I can't help you."

Scott swallowed, looking defeated, but he quickly rallied. "Can you do me just one small favor, then?"

Argent raised an eyebrow. "What favor?"

Scott hesitated for a moment. "Could you... lend me some equipment? Just enough to help us catch them without hurting them?"

Argent looked at Scott for a long moment, then at Blake, before sighing again. "Meet me at the old hunting supply shop in an hour."

Scott's face lit up with relief. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Argent muttered, turning to leave. He glanced back at Blake one more time. "And you—try to keep things under control."

Blake smiled faintly. "I'll do my best."

As Argent walked away, Scott exhaled deeply, clearly relieved.

"That went better than I expected," Blake said with a grin.

Scott nodded, his shoulders finally relaxing. "Yeah. Thanks for backing me up back there."

"Anytime," Blake replied. "Guess we've got an hour to kill before meeting him."

Scott glanced at his cart, which had barely anything in it. "Might as well grab some food."

Blake chuckled. "Let's just make sure it's more than cereal this time."

Scott laughed as they moved toward the checkout. "Deal."

BEACON HILLS SWIMMING POOL – NIGHT

The headlights of Argent's SUV cut through the darkness as they pulled into the parking lot of the Beacon Hills swimming pool. Tension hung in the air, and Blake could feel it as he glanced at Scott in the passenger seat. He hadn't expected to be pulled into a night like this so soon after moving to Beacon Hills. What had started as just another day had spiraled into something much more dangerous.

"Left or straight?" Argent asked, his eyes sharp as he navigated through the lot.

"Left," Scott replied quickly. "It's just around the corner, near that parking lot."

Blake leaned back in his seat, his mind racing with everything they had learned so far. He was still getting used to being around Scott and his friends, but tonight had forced them to work together. Whatever was happening with Boyd and Cora, it was escalating fast.

As Argent brought the SUV to a stop, Scott unbuckled his seatbelt. "Thanks again for the ride."

Argent didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the entrance to the pool building. "They did this?" he asked, his voice tight. "Boyd and...?"

"Cora," Scott answered, though his voice wavered slightly.

Blake sat up, opening the backseat door and stepping out into the cool night air. He'd heard about what Boyd and Cora were capable of, but he hadn't seen it firsthand. Still, after everything that had happened tonight, there was no denying that they were dangerous.

"They were out of control at the preserve," Blake said, glancing between Scott and Argent. "But we don't know for sure if they're the ones who did this." He gestured toward the building, trying to keep his thoughts level.

Scott nodded. "Stiles and Lydia found the body. It was brutal. We can't rule out Boyd and Cora, especially not with everything that's been going on."

Argent stepped out of the vehicle, his eyes dark as he looked toward the pool. "Where's the last place you saw them?"

Blake exchanged a glance with Scott. "We were tracking them through the preserve," Blake said, stepping closer to Argent. "But they're fast, and they keep slipping away."

Scott nodded in agreement. "We split up to cover more ground, but it didn't work. They're always a step ahead."

Blake's mind raced as they approached the pool entrance. He had been through strange nights before, but nothing like this. The only reason he was even in Beacon Hills was because his mom had taken a job here, and now he was thrown into a fight for survival. This wasn't how he had planned to start his life in a new town.

Argent led the way, his expression unreadable as they neared the doors. "And you're sure it was Boyd and Cora?" he asked, still sounding unconvinced.

Blake hesitated, exchanging a quick glance with Scott. "We don't know for sure," he admitted, keeping his voice steady. "But given everything we've seen tonight, it makes sense that it could be them."

Scott added, "We just need to check. If it's not them, we need to figure out what's going on before anyone else gets hurt."

Argent finally nodded, his face grim as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. The creak of the hinges echoed through the empty building, sending a chill down Blake's spine. Inside, the smell of chlorine filled the air, but there was a darker, metallic scent underneath it. Blood.

Blake stepped forward, following Argent and Scott into the building. He kept his senses on high alert, ready for anything. The darkness of the pool area felt suffocating, and his eyes darted around, searching for any sign of movement.

As they reached the edge of the pool, Scott crouched down, inspecting the dark stains that marked the floor. "They were here," he said softly, his voice filled with tension. "But we don't know if they're still around."

Blake crossed his arms, his eyes scanning the surroundings. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but it was clear something terrible had happened here. "Stiles and Lydia found the body earlier," Blake muttered. "They think Boyd and Cora were involved, but there's no proof yet."

Argent, his flashlight cutting through the darkness, looked over at Blake. "And you? What do you think?"

Blake shrugged, trying to keep his thoughts straight. "I think we're missing something. We don't know the whole story yet. Boyd and Cora might be out of control, but this?" He gestured to the pool, where bloodstains dotted the floor. "I don't know if they're behind it."

Scott stood up, his jaw clenched. "We have to find them. We can't let anyone else get hurt."

Argent nodded grimly. "We need to move fast. Whatever's going on here, we can't afford to waste time."

Blake stepped closer to Scott as Argent led the way deeper into the building. He felt the weight of everything that was happening press down on him. This wasn't the life he'd expected when he moved here with his mom. But now, he was in the middle of it, and he wasn't backing down.

As they walked through the darkened halls of the pool, Blake's mind raced. He was still trying to wrap his head around everything that had happened, but one thing was clear: whatever came next, he had to be ready. He wasn't just a bystander anymore—he was part of this fight.

BEACON HILLS PRESERVE – NIGHT

The cool air of the preserve was thick with tension. Blake stood near Scott, listening intently as Argent examined the prints in the dirt. The group had been at this for hours, trying to track Boyd and Cora under the relentless pull of the full moon.

Argent rose from the ground, his sharp eyes locking onto Scott and the rest of the group. "You're tracking them by print?" he asked, his tone disbelieving.

Scott shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "Trying to…"

Argent shook his head, clearly unimpressed. "Well, then you've been wasting your time. There's only one creature on earth that can visually track footprints, and that's man. And, if you're not trained like me, you have no idea that this print is Boyd's and these—" He gestured to another set of prints.

Isaac stepped forward, confident. "Are Cora's."

Argent gave him a withering look. "Nope. Those are yours. You trampled Cora's as soon as you walked over here."

Isaac's face fell, and Blake couldn't help but crack a small smile. "Tough break," he muttered, smirking at Isaac. "Happens to the best of us."

Isaac glanced at him, half-grimacing, half-smiling. "Yeah, well, I'll let you do the tracking next time."

Blake raised his hands playfully. "I'll leave that to the professionals."

Argent sighed, his focus returning to the task at hand. "Listen, I know the three of you are focusing half your energy on resisting your own urges under the full moon, but that puts you at a severe disadvantage to Boyd and Cora, who have fully given in. They put the pedal to the floor, where you four are barely hitting the speed limit."

Blake remained quiet, but he couldn't help the thought that crossed his mind. Speak for yourselves. I've got plenty of energy. He didn't say anything, though. 

Derek, ever impatient, folded his arms over his chest. "So, what do we do?" he asked, his tone biting.

Argent gave him a calculating look. "Focus on your sense of smell. Actual wolves can track

their prey by up to a hundred miles a day by scent."

Blake listened carefully, making a mental note to rely more on his senses. His instincts had served him well so far, but he still wasn't as experienced as the others.

Argent continued, his tone calm but firm. "A trained Hunter can use scent to track them. If the wind is with them, wolves can track a scent by a distance of two miles, which means we can draw them to us... or into a trap."

"Good to know," Blake said, nodding. "Let's hope the wind's on our side."

Argent shot him a brief glance but kept talking. "The full moon does give us one advantage—they'll have a higher heat signature, which makes them easier to spot with infrared."

Derek, always the lone wolf, scoffed. "Thanks, but I've got my own."

Blake exchanged a glance with Scott, raising his eyebrows slightly. "No harm in using all the tools we've got, right?" he said lightly, trying to break some of the tension.

Argent nodded, appreciating the sentiment but staying focused. "Just remember, we're not hunting wild animals. Underneath those impulses are two intelligent human beings."

Blake couldn't help but think of his own control. Guess that's where we're different. I know when to hold back. He glanced at Derek, wondering how well Derek knew his sister after all these years.

"When's the last time you saw your sister?" Argent asked, voicing the question on Blake's mind.

Derek's face tightened. "Not in years. I thought she died in the fire."

Argent studied him for a moment. "Do you feel like you have a lock on her scent?"

Derek's silence was answer enough. Argent turned to Scott next. "Scott, how confident are you in your skills?"

Scott hesitated. "Honestly, most of the time, I'm trying not to think about all the things I can smell."

Blake chuckled under his breath. "Tell me about it." He shared a knowing look with Scott, feeling like he was finally starting to get a sense of what these guys were going through.

Argent continued, his voice steady. "The problem is when they breach the woods and hit the residential area. Once they're past the high school, they're right in the middle of Beacon Hills."

Isaac, his nervousness bubbling up again, asked, "They're not gonna kill everything they see, are they?"

"No…" Argent replied, his tone grim. "But there is an important difference to recognize. Wolves hunt for food—at a certain point, they get full. But Boyd and Cora are hunting for the pleasure of the kill. For some apex predatory satisfaction that comes from the ripping of warm bodies to bloody shreds. And who knows when that need gets satiated?"

Scott's jaw tightened. "We can't kill them."

"What if we can't catch them?" Derek challenged, his voice low and serious.

Argent weighed the situation before speaking. "Then maybe we just need to contain them. There's no one in the school at night, is there?"

Derek frowned, incredulous. "You want to trap them inside?"

Argent shrugged. "If there's a strong enough door, with no windows or access to the outside…"

Isaac perked up with an idea. "What about the boiler room? It's just one big steel door."

Argent nodded. "You're sure the school's empty?"

Scott glanced at Blake, who shrugged. "Has to be. No one sticks around Beacon Hills High this late."

Argent handed out small devices to each of them. "These are ultrasonic emitters—it's one of the tools we use to corral werewolves, pushing them into a direction we want them to run. It gives off a high-pitched frequency that only they can hear."

Isaac winced, holding his emitter. "God, no kidding."

Derek examined the device in his hand. "These are going to drive them to the school?"

"And then it's up to you to get them into the basement," Argent finished.

Isaac sighed, looking increasingly doubtful. "Does anyone else want to rethink the plan where we just, uh... kill them?"

Scott shook his head firmly. "It's going to work. It'll work."

Blake exchanged a brief glance with Scott, then looked at the others. "Let's get it done."

MARTIN HOUSE – NIGHT

Lydia sat on her bed, still reeling from the night's events. Stiles paced nervously across her room, glancing occasionally at her as if trying to read her mind.

"You didn't have to follow me home," Lydia said, her voice light but tired.

Stiles stopped pacing, shrugging awkwardly. "I just wanted to make sure you got in okay."

Lydia raised an eyebrow, amused. "I had a police escort, Stiles."

Defensively, Stiles straightened up. "I know the inner workings of that force, all right? They're not nearly as reliable as people think!"

Lydia rolled her eyes, but a small smile crept onto her lips. "Well, you also didn't have to follow me into my room…"

Stiles stammered, clearly flustered. "Well, I, uh… yeah, I don't have an answer for that."

Lydia crossed her arms, waiting.

"I can leave!" Stiles offered, already inching toward the door.

She sighed, her voice softer now. "Are you really going to go without asking me the question that you've been dying to ask me?"

Stiles froze mid-step, his back turned to her. "What? I'm not… I haven't been dying to ask anything. Nope! No questions here for Stiles! None whatsoever."

Lydia tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "I can see it on your face."

Stiles hesitated, then turned around slowly. "Maybe my face just has, like, a naturally interrogatory expression?"

"Well," Lydia said, now leaning back against the headboard, "your interrogatory expression is getting on my nerves."

She exhaled deeply before continuing. "The answer is... I have no clue how I ended up finding that body. I didn't even know where I was until I got out of the car."

Stiles frowned, his brow furrowing with concern. "Yeah, but the last time something like this happened…"

Lydia cut him off, already knowing where his thoughts were headed. "I know—Derek's uncle."

"Peter," Stiles finished, his voice low..

BEACON HILLS PRESERVE – NIGHT

The night was dark, and the eerie silence of the Beacon Hills Preserve was only broken by the rustling of the leaves and the occasional snap of twigs underfoot. After splitting up to track Boyd and Cora, Derek found himself accompanied by Peter, who had joined them at the last minute, much to Isaac's discomfort. The tension between them all was thick, the weight of the night pressing heavily on their shoulders.

Derek moved ahead, his senses on high alert, eyes scanning every shadow for signs of his sister. Isaac trailed behind, glancing occasionally at Peter, who seemed far too relaxed for the dire situation they were in.

Peter, as usual, couldn't resist breaking the silence.

"And the hunted becomes the hunter!" he said, his voice carrying a dramatic flair that grated on Derek's already frayed nerves.

Derek clenched his jaw, trying to ignore him, but Peter continued with a mocking smirk.

"You really think a few high-tech dog whistles are going to help?"

Irritated, Derek shot him a glare. "I don't see you offering a hand," he muttered through gritted teeth, pushing forward.

Peter's smirk only widened. "Personally, I'm trying to cut down on futile endeavors."

Derek's patience was wearing thin, but he kept his focus, knowing they didn't have time for Peter's games. Every second they wasted could mean more innocent lives lost, and Cora—his sister—was still out there.

"Cora's alive," Derek said, the weight of the words landing heavily in the night air.

Peter paused, his sarcasm flickering for just a moment. "I heard," he said, though his tone remained light. "Let's throw the reunion party when she's not an unstoppable killing machine."

"I can stop her," Derek insisted, his voice resolute.

Peter raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Sure you can," he said, crossing his arms casually. "By killing her. Which happens to be the point of this little exercise, if you haven't figured that out yet."

Isaac shifted uneasily, casting a wary glance at Peter, who seemed far too comfortable with the idea of killing family.

Peter's voice lowered, almost conspiratorial. "Deucalion wants you to kill them, Derek. He wants you to get rid of his baggage. The fact that it was supposed to happen in the vault and not up here, out in the open, doesn't change his plan."

Derek's steps faltered, but he didn't respond. He knew Peter was right. Deucalion's plan had been in motion for months—Boyd and Cora were just the pieces on the board, and now, they were running loose under the full moon.

"It just means Boyd and Cora are going to kill a few innocent people first," Peter added, his voice cold and calculating.

Derek spun around, his eyes flashing with anger. "And I should just let them? I should be okay with innocent people dying?"

Peter's gaze didn't waver. "Unless you're okay with killing your own..." He let the words hang in the air like a taunt.

Isaac swallowed hard, his tension growing as he glanced between the two Alphas. Derek was trying to hold onto something—some hope that he could save his sister without becoming the monster Peter wanted him to be.

"I can catch them," Derek said, his voice steady, though doubt lingered at the edges.

Peter laughed, the sound sharp and derisive. "Come on, Derek, how much damage can they really do? So, they off a few homeless people, maybe a drunk stumbling out of a bar too late. So what?"

Isaac's eyes widened in disbelief, but Peter pressed on.

"Let Scott deal with it. Let him play the hero in his black-and-white world. But us? We live in shades of gray. Always have."

Derek's fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't respond. Peter's words slithered into his mind, pushing at the boundaries of his morality.

Peter took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Then again, even if you do kill them... you're still an Alpha. You can always make more Werewolves."

Derek turned away, his jaw set, but his eyes betrayed the conflict within. He knew what Peter was trying to do, but saving Cora without bloodshed seemed like an impossible choice. Yet, for him, it was the only one.

The night pressed in around them, dark and unforgiving, and the path ahead felt more uncertain than ever.

BEACON HILLS MEMORIAL HOSPITAL – NIGHT

Melissa McCall led Stiles through the dimly lit halls of Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, her expression tense and serious. Stiles, glancing nervously around, tried to hide his anxiety as they moved toward the morgue. He was used to this by now—dead bodies and gruesome scenes—but something about the way Melissa had called him made his skin crawl.

Melissa stopped in front of the morgue doors and gave him a sharp look. "Over here," she whispered, motioning him inside.

Stiles followed, his heart pounding. As the doors closed behind them, the sterile, cold atmosphere of the morgue settled over him. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above, casting a harsh glow on the metallic surfaces.

Melissa turned to face him, her voice low and threatening. "And, if you tell anyone that I showed you this, I swear to God I will kill you—painfully and slowly."

Stiles blinked at her, trying to suppress a smile despite the grim situation. "Noted."

She pulled back a sheet, revealing a body Stiles recognized instantly. "Why are you showing me a body I've already seen?" he asked, frowning.

Melissa's face was grim as she gestured for him to step closer. "Because you haven't seen everything yet."

Reluctantly, Stiles moved closer, his stomach already churning at the sight of the body. As Melissa pointed toward the neck, Stiles squinted and leaned in.

"See this, around his neck?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "That's a ligature mark. Means he was strangled with something—like cord or rope."

Stiles blinked in confusion. "Wait... What kind of Werewolf strangles someone? That's not very... Werewolf-y," he said, scratching the back of his head.

Melissa nodded, her expression serious. "My thoughts exactly."

She moved the sheet down further, revealing more of the body. "And then there's this."

Stiles's face immediately contorted in disgust as he took in the indentation on the back of the victim's head. "Oh, God... Is that... brain matter?" He gagged slightly, fighting the urge to vomit. "Yeah, that's brain matter... of course."

Melissa continued, her voice steady but tense. "See the indentation? He was hit in the back of the head—hard enough to kill him. Any one of these things could have killed him. Someone seriously wanted this poor kid dead."

Stiles stared at the body in shock, the implications sinking in. "Okay, so... Boyd and Cora couldn't have done this, right? They wouldn't have strangled someone, let alone... done all that." He motioned toward the head wound. "Maybe it's just a random murder? Maybe it's not connected?"

Melissa's expression darkened as she moved to another table, pulling back a second sheet to reveal another body. "I don't think it was just one murder," she said grimly.

Stiles frowned. "Why not?"

Melissa pulled the sheet back farther, revealing the injuries on the second victim. "Because that girl over there?" she said, her voice heavy with dread. "She's got the exact same injuries."

Stiles stared at the second body, his heart sinking. This wasn't a coincidence. Whatever was happening in Beacon Hills, it wasn't just random killings—it was something much darker, much more deliberate.

"Two victims," Stiles muttered, shaking his head. "And it's not Boyd or Cora..."

Melissa nodded. "No. It's something else."

Stiles felt the weight of her words settle over him. Another killer—one who wasn't a Werewolf, but just as deadly—was on the loose.

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL – NIGHT

The cold air cut through the night as the group moved silently through the shadows of the school grounds. Scott, Blake, Isaac, and Argent stayed close, their senses heightened by the eerie quiet surrounding them. The glow of the fireflies flickered in the darkness, leading them somewhere unknown, and each of them had the same unsettled feeling that something bad was on its way.

Blake looked over at Isaac, who had rejoined them after splitting from Derek earlier. He hadn't said much, and Blake was starting to wonder why he'd left Derek to come back to Scott and the rest of them. There had to be a reason.

Isaac seemed to sense the silent question, and without looking up, he muttered, "Derek wanted me to help cover more ground. He thought splitting up might give us a better chance of keeping Boyd and Cora from hitting a residential area."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "You sure it wasn't just to get you out of the way?"

Isaac shot him a look, half-amused, half-annoyed. "Nah, I'm more useful than you think. But don't worry, I didn't want to stick around for the family reunion, anyway. It's kind of intense between Derek and Cora."

Scott, walking ahead, looked back at them. "Derek's worried about her... but we need every pair of eyes out here. Boyd and Cora... they're dangerous right now. We can't afford any more innocent people getting caught in their path."

Blake nodded, his blue eyes scanning the dark woods around them. "And that's why I'm here. I might be new to town, but I'm not new to handling danger."

Scott smirked slightly. "You handled yourself back at the bank. The whole red eyes thing though... it's got people asking questions."

Blake shrugged. "Let them ask. I'm not exactly part of anyone's pack, and that includes Deucalion's. I got here by accident, not because of whatever's going on in this town."

Argent, walking slightly ahead, cast a suspicious glance back at Blake, still not entirely trusting him. "You're an Alpha, but you're not involved with Deucalion?"

Blake met his gaze, calm but firm. "Not every Alpha answers to Deucalion. I'm doing my own thing, and I don't owe him anything. Trust me, I'm as much in the dark about this as you are."

Isaac muttered under his breath, "Just what we needed... another lone wolf."

Blake grinned, but there was an edge to his smile. "I'm not much for following orders unless I have a reason. But I think we can all agree that stopping Boyd and Cora tonight is reason enough."

Scott, sensing the tension between Blake and Argent, stepped in to smooth things over. "We need everyone on the same page. Boyd and Cora are out of control, and we're running out of time. Blake's with us. We trust him."

Argent didn't respond immediately but gave a curt nod, acknowledging Scott's words. "Fine. But if we're going to do this, we need to stay focused. Tracking them by sight won't work."

Blake listened as Argent explained how scent could be their key to finding Boyd and Cora before things got worse. But as Argent spoke, Blake's mind wandered briefly to the fireflies they'd seen earlier. Something wasn't right about them, and he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being lured into something. The question was, by who or what?

As they approached the school, Isaac groaned, interrupting Blake's thoughts. "Oh, great."

Argent frowned, glancing up toward the roof of the building. "What is it?"

Scott, following Isaac's gaze, saw it too. "They're not going through the school... they're going over it."

Blake stared up at the roof. "What the hell are they planning now?" He didn't need to be an expert to know this wasn't part of the plan. Whatever Boyd and Cora were doing, it was going to get a lot worse if they didn't stop them soon.

Scott turned to Argent. "You said you had a plan. Is there any chance it's going to work now?"

Argent pulled out the ultrasonic emitters. "It's going to have to. We corral them into the school, trap them in the basement, and contain them. It's all we've got."

Blake glanced at the devices Argent held. "And you think some high-pitched noise is going to hold them?"

Argent met Blake's gaze with a level stare. "It will drive them where we want them to go. After that, it's up to us to get them in the boiler room."

Isaac, always the skeptic, groaned again. "Does anyone else want to rethink the plan where we just... you know, kill them?"

Blake chuckled softly, but there was a seriousness in his tone. "Trust me, Isaac, if I wanted to kill them, we wouldn't be standing around talking about it. But Scott's right. We catch them. We don't kill them."

Argent, Scott, and Isaac nodded, their plan now set in motion. But as Blake looked up at the school's dark, looming structure, he couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to go sideways—and fast.

BEACON HILLS MEMORIAL HOSPITAL – NIGHT

The cold, sterile halls of the hospital felt even more unnerving at night. Stiles followed closely behind Melissa, his steps slow and hesitant. His mind raced with questions, and the weight of the night's events sat heavy in his chest.

Melissa glanced back at him, her voice soft but serious. "Stiles, the medical examiner said the strangulation wasn't typical. Whoever did this used a garrote—a stick and rope, twisted tighter and tighter."

Stiles blinked, his breath catching. "Garrote? That's not very... Werewolf-like."

Melissa nodded solemnly, pulling the sheet back slightly to show the back of Heather's head. "No, it's not. Look here—this indentation. Whoever did this hit her in the head hard enough to kill her, even without the strangulation."

Stiles swallowed hard, his gaze locked on the body of the girl he'd known since childhood. Memories of her birthday party and her voice echoed in his mind. Heather. The girl who was just seventeen.

"Stiles?" Melissa's voice broke through his daze, pulling him back to the present. "Did you know her?"

Stiles nodded slowly, his voice barely a whisper. "Yeah... her name was Heather. It was her birthday." He paused, trying to piece everything together, his thoughts spinning wildly. "Melissa... has anyone else been through here tonight? Any other bodies? Or... anyone missing?"

Melissa looked at him curiously. "No other bodies, but I did overhear something. There was a girl brought in for a tox screen—Caitlin, I think. She and her girlfriend, Emily, were out in the woods. Emily... she disappeared."

Stiles's eyes widened, his mind latching onto that information. "Wait, no one's found Emily yet?"

Melissa shook her head. "No, not that I've heard."

Stiles's pulse quickened. Pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together. "I need to talk to Caitlin."

Melissa frowned, confused. "Why? What do you think is happening?"

Stiles didn't answer right away. His mind was already racing to the next possible lead. "Because... I think I know what's going on."

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL – NIGHT

The cool night air hung heavy around the group as they stood near the back entrance of the high school. Tension radiated off everyone as they prepared for what was about to come. Argent looked toward the sealed doors, his expression grim.

"We need someone to get those back doors open," Argent said, his voice low but commanding.

Scott looked toward Blake, then Isaac, weighing his options. Blake, always observant, caught Scott's glance. Before anyone could respond, Isaac stepped forward.

"I'll do it," Isaac said with confidence. "I'm faster."

Blake raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He could have easily offered to go, but Isaac's determination was evident. There wasn't any need to undermine him.

Argent nodded as Isaac prepared to head off, his eyes narrowing in determination. "Get them inside," Argent added, giving Isaac a final nod of approval.

As Isaac bolted toward the doors, Scott and Blake exchanged a glance. Blake's instincts flared to life, his senses sharp. The tension in the air was thick, and Blake could hear every little sound, feel every pulse of danger.

Derek, standing nearby, clenched his fists, his jaw tight. "Come and get us," he muttered, almost as if daring Boyd and Cora to make their move.

Blake's eyes narrowed as the silence stretched. His heart rate slowed, readying himself for whatever was about to happen. Scott glanced at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and determination.

"Did it work?" Scott asked, looking to Derek.

Derek tilted his head slightly, focusing on the silence around them, his senses working just as sharply as Blake's.

"It worked," Derek confirmed, his tone steady but cautious. "They're coming."

Scott took a deep breath, focusing his senses. His eyes flickered toward Blake, who was standing still, listening. "What are you hearing?" Scott asked, hoping for more clarity.

Derek's brow furrowed as he listened more closely. "Heartbeats," he muttered, his voice tinged with tension. "Both of 'em?"

Scott, concentrating harder, suddenly stiffened. His eyes widened in surprise. "Actually…" He hesitated, unsure. "Three of them."

Blake's eyes snapped toward Scott, his focus sharpening. "Three?" he asked, exchanging a wary look with Derek.

Derek's eyes darkened. "Who the hell is the third?"

Blake's instincts screamed that something was off, and he couldn't shake the feeling that whatever—or whoever—was coming with Boyd and Cora wasn't friendly. They were running out of time, and Blake knew they had to stay sharp. Something big was coming their way, and it wasn't just the two Alphas they had been expecting.

BEACON HILLS MEMORIAL HOSPITAL – NIGHT

Caitlin sat on the edge of the hospital bed, her eyes brimming with unshed tears as she recounted the events of the night to Stiles. The fluorescent lighting above them hummed softly, casting a sterile glow over the room that only made the situation feel more surreal.

"We weren't doing anything that bad," Caitlin muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, I've camped out there plenty of times."

Stiles leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, brow furrowed in concern. "Right, but why tonight?"

Caitlin hesitated for a moment before continuing. "We wanted to be alone for one night. Emily lives with her mom, and I have three roommates… Not exactly romantic settings, you know?"

Stiles nodded, understanding more than he wanted to. "How long have you two been together?"

"Three months," Caitlin answered quietly.

"And you wanted to make it romantic," Stiles pressed gently, sensing there was more to the story.

Caitlin's lips quivered as she nodded. "Yeah, you know, because..."

Stiles' gaze softened. He knew exactly what she meant. "...Because it was her first time?"

Caitlin's composure finally broke, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "They're going to find her, right?" she asked, her voice small, filled with desperation.

Stiles paused, unsure of what to say. His mind raced, thinking about what Melissa had told him earlier—how they hadn't found Emily yet. He wanted to offer her comfort, to say something reassuring, but the weight of the truth made his throat tighten.

Caitlin's gaze bore into his, pleading. "Aren't they?"

Stiles swallowed hard, his mouth dry. "We're doing everything we can," he said softly, the words feeling insufficient.

The room fell into an uneasy silence, the gravity of the situation pressing down on both of them. Stiles could see the fear in Caitlin's eyes, the gnawing uncertainty of what had really happened out in the woods. And for the first time in a long while, he wasn't sure he had the answers.

BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL – NIGHT

The tension in the hallway thickened as Boyd and Cora's presence loomed closer. Scott and Blake stood side by side, hearts racing, but Blake's demeanor remained composed, though his instincts screamed readiness. The situation was spiraling fast, and the stakes were higher than ever.

"What are you doing?" Scott demanded as he saw Derek moving toward the door.

Derek's steps were resolute as he approached the threshold. Without looking back, he muttered, "Close the door behind me and keep it shut."

Scott stepped forward, his voice rising with panic. "You go in there alone, and you're either gonna kill them, or they'll kill you!"

Derek's voice was calm, but there was a hard edge of determination. "That's why I'm going in alone."

Blake narrowed his eyes, stepping up beside Scott. "You don't have to do this alone," Blake said firmly, his voice low but full of resolve. "We're stronger together."

Derek shot him a look but said nothing. There was a silent understanding between them—a respect. Even though Derek was used to taking matters into his own hands, he knew Blake's strength, and that he wasn't just a bystander. Still, Derek's stubbornness wouldn't let him back down.

Before anyone could say more, Isaac's voice echoed down the hallway. "Scott…" Isaac muttered, glancing out a window with wide eyes, the faint glow of the sun peeking through the darkness. "The sun's coming up…"

Blake's sharp gaze followed Isaac's, his instincts sensing the shift in time. The full moon's pull was fading, but they weren't out of danger yet.

Isaac's voice rose in urgency, "Scott! The sun's coming up!"

Scott looked to Derek with wide eyes. "Derek, we don't have time!"

Just as the intensity spiked, Derek tensed, his eyes snapping toward a figure in the distance. "There's a teacher…" he said in disbelief.

Blake turned sharply, his heightened senses confirming it. "She's in danger," he muttered, knowing full well that this changed everything.

Derek's tone was grim as he moved swiftly, his muscles coiled like a predator on the hunt. "I'll take care of her," he growled, his Alpha instincts rising. "Get them out of here."

Blake exchanged a brief look with Scott, his Alpha strength ready if the moment required. "We need to move."

BEACON HILLS MEMORIAL HOSPITAL / BEACON HILLS PRESERVE – EARLY MORNING

Stiles stood impatiently near the entrance of Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, his eyes darting to the road every few seconds. He bounced nervously on the balls of his feet, waiting for Scott to show up. He had been up all night connecting dots between the strange murders, and now, he had more questions than answers. His phone buzzed—still no update on the missing Emily, and the longer it dragged on, the more nervous he became.

"Come on, Scott..." Stiles muttered to himself.

Finally, he spotted Scott's familiar figure in the distance. But, as they got closer, Stiles noticed someone else walking next to him. It wasn't Isaac or Derek—it was Blake. The sight of them together made Stiles raise his eyebrows. He hadn't expected the new guy to be tagging along on such serious business.

"Scott! Took you long enough—" Stiles began, then stopped mid-sentence, glancing over at Blake. "And... Blake?"

Blake gave him a small, easy smile, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. "Thought I'd come along. Seemed like something important was going down."

Stiles blinked, clearly surprised but trying to play it cool. "Yeah, I guess it is... Didn't know you were, uh, running with us now."

Scott shot Stiles a look. "Blake's been helping me out with some stuff. He's... been good to have around."

Blake nodded, his casual demeanor making it seem like this was just another day in Beacon Hills. "Figured I'd lend a hand. Looks like you guys could use it."

Stiles tilted his head, sizing Blake up. "Right... Right. Alpha strength and all. Sure, we could definitely use that." There was an underlying curiosity in his tone, as though he wasn't quite sure what to make of Blake yet. Still, Blake's calm presence and Alpha status seemed to reassure him, at least on the surface.

"Besides," Blake added, glancing around the area, "whatever's happening... it's big. I'm not sitting this one out."

Stiles pursed his lips, still processing the idea of Blake tagging along. "Okay, sure. More claws the better, I guess." He gave a small shrug, trying to hide his uncertainty with humor. "Just, uh, try not to accidentally rip anybody's head off, alright?"

Blake chuckled lightly. "I'll do my best."

Scott cut in, refocusing the conversation. "We're dealing with something serious, Stiles. We need to figure out what's going on with these sacrifices."

Stiles' expression turned grim. "Yeah, and it's bad. Really bad. People aren't just getting killed randomly, Scott... they're being sacrificed. It's called the three-fold death."

Blake's easygoing expression faded slightly. "Sacrifices?" he asked, his brows furrowing. "Like... actual human sacrifices?"

Stiles nodded. "Yep. Virgins, to be exact. And not in some 'creepy cult initiation' way. I'm talking throat slashed, strangled, and head bashed in. Classic supernatural ritual."

Blake's gaze hardened. This wasn't just some random killings—this was far worse than he'd imagined. "So, they're going after specific targets... for a reason."

"Exactly," Stiles confirmed. "And that's where things get even worse. The victims we found—Emily, Heather, and the guy Lydia found at the pool—they all had the same injuries."

Scott added, "This isn't some random act of violence, Blake. Whoever's doing this knows exactly what they're doing."

Blake crossed his arms, nodding slowly as he processed the information. He didn't have all the answers, but his instincts told him this was just the beginning of something much bigger.

"Any idea who's behind it?" Blake asked, his voice calm but carrying a weight of seriousness.

Stiles shook his head. "Not yet... but we're getting close. Whoever they are, they're definitely playing by some ancient supernatural rulebook."

Scott looked at both Stiles and Blake. "We need to stop them before anyone else gets hurt. If we don't figure this out soon..."

Blake exchanged a glance with Scott, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I'm in," he said firmly. "Whatever it takes."

Stiles eyed Blake, and despite his earlier skepticism, a small smile tugged at his lips. "Okay then... welcome to the club, Alpha."

The three of them stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the next move hanging in the air.