Chapter 34: Primal Instinct 

The sunlight filtered through the blinds in Stiles' room, casting stripes of light across the walls. Scott leaned against the desk, as Stiles flipped through the files he copied from his dad. Allison sat on the edge of the bed, still processing everything she learned about the Hale fire and the Alpha werewolf. 

"Here is what I found." Stiles slid a picture across the desk toward Scott and Allison. "This is the first victim. Take a look." 

Scott picked up the picture and Allison leaned closer, her face contorting into a mixture of horror and confusion. The image showed a pale woman lying in the woods with wounds on her neck, her lifeless eyes staring into nothing. 

"Isn't this just like the victims of the Alpha?" Allison asked hesitantly. 

Stiles shook his head. "No, no, no. The wounds might look a bit similar, but here's the creepy part—after the autopsy, they found that every single drop of blood in her body was completely drained." 

Scott straightened, his demeanor shifting to something more serious. "What about the other victims? How many are there?" 

"Two others besides her," Stiles said, pulling out two more pictures and laying them on the desk. 

Allison winced as she looked at the photos. "That's gruesome," she murmured. 

Scott studied the images carefully. "Wait, there's blood around these two. If they were drained, why is there so much blood?" 

"They weren't drained like the first victim. Something ripped open their stomachs, took their liver and spleen, and then just... left them to die slowly." Stiles said.

Allison's hand flew to her mouth, her voice trembling. "That's terrifying." 

Stiles shrugged, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Welcome to our lives, Allison. It's a nonstop freak show. You're gonna love it." 

Allison rolled her eyes. "Not helping, Stiles." She turned to Scott, her gaze filled with concern. "Do you have any idea what could've done this?" 

Scott rubbed his chin, his thoughts racing. "There are a lot of supernatural creatures that drink human blood or eat human flesh. Vampires, Wendigos, Ghouls… It could be any of them." 

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Okay, vampires I know about, and I've seen a ghoul. But what's a Wendigo?" 

Scott explained, "A Wendigo is a cannibalistic monster from folklore. It's a fearsome beast that stalks and eats humans." 

Stiles let out a dramatic sigh and wrapped his arms around Scott in an exaggerated hug. 

Scott frowned. "Uh, dude? What are you doing?" 

"I'm saying goodbye," Stiles said, pulling back with a smirk. "Because I'm packing up and moving to Canada with my dad." 

Scott burst out laughing. "Good luck with that. Fun fact—Wendigos are a Canadian thing. So, if you're running from one, Canada's the last place you want to go." 

Stiles groaned and collapsed onto his bed. "Great. Can't even escape to Canada." 

Allison chuckled, her tension easing slightly. "Scott, are you going to do something about this?" 

Scott's smile faded, replaced by determination. "Yeah. Beacon Hills is our home. I'm not letting something this dangerous roam around killing people." 

Stiles sat up. "What's the plan?" 

Scott looked at the photos again. "Which murder happened most recently?" 

"This one," Stiles said, pointing to the image of a bloodied man in a dark alley. "He is one of the two who got their organs taken." 

"Take me to the crime scene," Scott said. 

The three got into Stiles' Jeep, driving through Beacon Hills to the crime scene—a back alley behind a local bar, still sealed off with yellow police tape. The smell of alcohol and garbage lingered in the air. 

Scott stepped out and approached the scene. Stiles and Allison followed, watching him carefully. 

Stiles crossed his arms. "So, are you getting anything, Scott?" 

"Give me a second," Scott said, his voice low. He closed his eyes, letting his senses take over, as he inhaled deeply, searching for anything out of the ordinary. 

Suddenly, his eyes flashed a bright crimson, and a low growl escaped his throat. 

Allison flinched but quickly approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Scott, are you okay?" 

Scott turned his glowing red eyes to her and nodded. "I'm fine," he said, his voice softer. And he pulled her into a hug. 

Stiles, however, was less convinced. "You sure about that, buddy? Because you look like you're about to rip someone's head off." 

Scott let out a breath, his eyes returning to normal. "I'm fine, Stiles." 

"You look angry," Stiles said, eyeing him warily. "Are you losing control?" 

Scott smirked, shaking his head. "You know I don't lose control, Stiles." 

"Then what's with the whole glowing-eyes-growling-like-a-wild-animal thing?" 

Scott hesitated. "It's… hard to explain. Whatever did this isn't a ghoul. It's worse. The second I caught its scent, something inside me reacted. Every part of me was screaming to kill it. It's like a primal instinct, as if nature itself wants it dead." 

Both Allison and Stiles shivered at his words. 

Stiles cleared his throat. "Okay, but can you track it? Follow the scent or something?" 

Scott tried, moving further into the alley, his senses on high alert. After a few moments, he stopped, frustration etched on his face. "No. The scent's gone. It just… vanished, like the thing disappeared into thin air." 

Stiles frowned. "Great. That's not ominous or anything." 

Scott turned back to them. "Let's go see Deaton. He might know what we're dealing with." 

Allison tilted her head. "Who's Deaton?" 

"He's the veterinarian I work for," Scott explained. "But he's also a Druid—a kind of supernatural advisor. Druids know a lot about creatures like this." 

As they walked back to the Jeep, Scott filled Allison in on Druids and their role in the supernatural world. 

Scott said. "If anyone can figure out what we're up against, it's him." 

they drove toward the animal clinic, the weight of the new threat hanging heavily in the air. 

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