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How long had it been since Derek ran away from him? A week? Two weeks? Stiles honestly couldn’t remember. Everything since that night had been in a fog, like Stiles was missing something that gave everything color, sharpness.
Scott didn’t think twice when Stiles told him his injuries were from the other team. It took some convincing, though, to keep him from egging the school. It was for that brief moment that everything seemed normal. The same old loyal Scott getting into the same old dumb ideas...but then it all faded again when a mournful howl echoed in Stiles’ head.
He doesn’t remember how. He doesn’t remember why, but there he was at his locker, grabbing books for his last class of the day. TGIF, right? To be honest, he looked forward to the junk food, the binge-watching, and spending a solid forty-eight hours curled up in his room. Whether or not forty-three of those hours will be spent staring at the unlocked window is still up in the air.
The hallway was crowded, teeming with teenagers moving from class to class, but somehow he knew instantly when Isaac entered the hallway. It was almost like he could feel every step he took through the ground. As the tall werewolf got closer, the awareness absorbed all thought. When they were within touching distance, Stiles reached out.
“Hey, Isaac,” he ignored Isaac’s brief glare at where his hand touched his shoulder. Honestly, he’s seen worse. “Can I talk to you later? Maybe on the field after everyone leaves practice?”
The look he received in return was both annoyed and confused. “Why? What do we possibly have to talk about?”
“Derek.” was all Stiles said in response. Isaac tensed, looking around them. Stiles didn’t know how the hell someone could be wearing a knitted sweater and still look intimidating but Isaac seemed to manage it just fine.
“Will Scott be there?” Isaac asked, leaning in to keep his voice low.
Stiles shook his head. “No, just you and me. It’s pack business.”
“You’re not pack.” Isaac sneered, adjusting the strap of his bookbag.
Stiles winced as his reply stung a little more than it should have. “From what I hear, neither are you. If my sources are right, there soon won’t be a pack to discuss.”
Isaac frowned, “What are you talking about?”
“Lacrosse field. Tonight, after practice.” Stiles left for class, not waiting for Isaac’s response. It was unlikely that he wouldn’t show up. Pack was pretty much all Isaac had and in the eyes of the werewolf, what threat would Stiles be?
It was a half-moon in the sky, doing little to light the field as Stiles paced between goals. His bookbag was left on the empty bleachers. He fidgeted with his phone, debating on whether or not to pull it out of his pocket to check the time. Practice ran late, sure, but Isaac shouldn’t be taking this long to meet him! He grimaced at the sweat dripping down his back. The night was almost too warm for his red hoodie, but he didn’t want to take it off. He's already magically lost five jackets by just throwing them anywhere.
It was quiet so it didn’t take long to hear Isaac’s quick steps approaching the field. He also had that odd sense of awareness again, like the closer Isaac got, the more he was aware of his footsteps, his breath, his heartbeat.
Weird. Stiles would have to worry about that later, though.
“Alright, Stiles,” Isaac began, tossing his things on the bleachers. He walked up to Stiles in the middle of the field, arms crossed, guard up. “What have you heard about my pack that you think is so important?”
Stiles gave him a hard stare, shoulders squared. “Which pack are we referring to?”
Isaac shook his head. “Don’t play games with me, Stilinski.”
“I’m not,” Stiles replied, hands in the air. “I’m just honestly confused seeing as how you’re hopping back and forth between Scott and Derek. Scott’s not an Alpha, but you’re sure as hell cozying up to him like he’s pack, so what gives?”
“Scott’s your best friend, so what, are you jealous that he’s hanging out with me?”
“I’m not here to talk about Scott.” Stiles snapped. “I’m talking about Derek.”
Isaac scoffed. “Since when do you care so much about Derek?”
Stiles tensed. The casual way his voice just tossed Derek aside...the disregard for Derek’s feelings? He bit back a mouthful of vitriol and spoke through gritted teeth. “Your indecision is hurting him. He knows you’re thinking about leaving him. Make a choice already!”
The young wolf’s face screwed up in confusion, staring at Stiles like he’s never seen him before. “No, it’s not. He doesn’t give a damn what I do. He just wants me to come running when he calls.”
“That’s a lie!” He barked, his voice uncomfortably loud in the empty field. “He is pack, Isaac, no matter how much he acts like it doesn’t matter. Erica and Boyd leaving is messing with his head already and now you’re running around on him with Scott? He’ll never admit it, Isaac, but his pack is falling apart around him and it’s killing him!”
Isaac at least had the good sense to look uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “He doesn’t care, Stiles. He barks orders, he beats the crap out of me, and never says more than two words to me. That’s not pack. That’s my dad. If I knew things wouldn’t have been any different…” He trailed off, looking guiltily away.
Stiles understood, “You never would have taken the bite.” The words were quiet, almost inaudible, but Isaac nodded anyway. Stiles opened his mouth to reply, to say anything…
But then a red dot lit up on Isaac’s chest, making Stiles’ eyes widen.
He rushed forward, arms out, “Isaac!”
A shot rang out, deafening and echoing like thunder in the open field. Isaac and Stiles hit the ground, immediately rolling off of each other. They moved to get up but another shot whizzed overhead, forcing them flat on the ground.
“They’re down!” A distant voice yelled. “Get them!”
Isaac’s head turned in the direction of the voices, seeing heavily armed humans breaking out of the tree line on the other side of the field. He moved to grab Stiles, to haul him up and make a run for it, but Stiles cried out in shock and pain, making Isaac freeze.
Stiles was curled up in a ball on the grass, now soaking through with bright red blood. “Stiles!” Isaac gasped, shaking Stiles. The human winced, groaning, before rolling on to his back. It was hard to tell through the blood soaking his clothes, but Isaac guessed the bullet tore through Stiles’ side, embedding itself in his hip. Stiles panted for breath, face sweaty and ashen.
“Stiles,” he said again, grabbing his arm. The voices were closer. The smell of wolfsbane and metal was starting to fill the air. Isaac tried hard not to panic. “Stiles, we need to get out of here!”
Stiles turned slightly, a bloody hand tightly grabbing Isaac’s where it lay on his shoulder. “No, I’ll hold them off. Find Derek. Tell him what happened. Get out of here, Isaac.”
Isaac rolled his eyes, preparing to throw the teen over his shoulder. “Yeah, right.” Suddenly the grip on his hand turned painful, making him pause. When he looked down at Stiles again, he recoiled in shock.
Stiles' eyes were red. Not brown, not ember, they were Alpha red. “Find Derek. Get out of here.”
His voice penetrated Isaac deep, making his inner wolf whine in submission. “Stiles, what are you--” Then Stiles sat up, grabbing Isaac by his shirt collar, yanking him in close.
“Go!” Stiles ordered, his Alpha voice compelling Isaac. “NOW!”
Without missing a beat, Isaac leapt to his feet, running full-speed to the woods beyond the field, dodging bullets and arrows. He didn’t hesitate to leave the Alpha--no!, leave Stiles behind. He barely had time to process what just happened before his wolf screamed at him to obey.
But Stiles was human!? What the hell just happened?
Stiles bit back a loud swear as he sat up further, the bullet wound in his side flaring in pain. He didn’t have time to worry about that, though. The Hunters changed course to follow Isaac. He had to buy the beta wolf some time.
“Hey,” he croaked, forcing himself to his feet. His voice didn’t carry at first, but they were gaining on Isaac! Without thinking twice, he let out a guttural, ear-piercing roar of a sound. “Hey!” he yelled when they looked over. He willed his feet backward, hands out in a ‘come hither’ gesture as he smirked through the pain in his side. “You guys gonna waste your time on my beta?! Alpha wolf, right here! Come and get me!”
With that, he turned and fled the other way, breaking into the line of trees that separated the field from the staff parking lot. Each step burned its way up his side, pulling swears and cries from his throat, but he kept the pace. The Hunters decided to follow him after all!
“Come on!” He yelled back, ducking around an exposed tangle of roots. “Is this all you Hunters got!?” He forced himself faster, further, but then something bit him in his back.
As he broke out onto the paved lot, that bite burst into molten lava through his nerve endings. With a scream, he collapsed, writhing on the ground as the Hunters came closer. It was then he saw the wires leading out of his back. Taser, he realized, of course.
A slight, dark-haired woman stepped forward. She was the one holding the taser, her finger white-knuckled around the trigger. Stiles jerked and cried out as the current never stopped. He could smell skin burning, and he dearly hoped that the wetness running down his leg was only blood.
Others gathered around them, but out of Stiles’ line-of-sight. All he could see was his tormentor and the white lines painted on the pavement. A pair of steel-toed boots then came into the frame, but Stiles couldn’t lift his head to see him.
After a moment, he didn’t need to as the man bent down to observe Stiles. He ordered the woman to shut off the taser with a wave of his hand, though the little Hunter took a little too much joy in being slow about it. Then calloused fingers grabbed his chin, forcing their eyes to meet.
He was an older man, with a V-shaped hairline and a salt-and-pepper beard. A nasty-looking scar ran down the side of his face, pulling the corner of his eye down and he was missing a couple of teeth. The gear he wore, however, was fancy and high-dollar.
Stiles stared back at him, giving nothing away in his expression despite the agony pounding in his veins.
“You’re human.” The Hunter observed with a smirk.
“Unfortunately.” Stiles replied, voice hoarse. Hunter laughed then, letting go of Stiles and standing to his full height. Stiles craned his neck to follow, but let his head fall back to the pavement when it hurt too much.
“Well, congratulations, men!” The lead Hunter called, looking at his team. “It looks like you were all conned...by a really, really, stupid boy. We can still use him, though. Bag’im up!”
“They’ll find me, asshole!” Stiles spat, fighting to sit up. His side hurt, but that wasn’t what concerned him. What concerned him was the wound felt like it was on fire, burning him from the inside out.
This wasn’t good…
“Oh,” the Hunter grinned, leaning down to meet Stiles’ eye, “I’m sure they will...eventually.” Then a hard, metal-tipped boot slammed into the side of his head. He had no time to fight back or scream for help as hands grabbed him, binding his wrists and taping his mouth shut. He didn’t even have time to try to see if Isaac escaped. Everything was getting really dark really quickly.
Then, like a switch being flipped, everything went black completely. Well, Stiles mused with his last thought, at least it doesn’t hurt in here.
Derek paced the length of the loft, a subvocal growl taking a permanent residence in his chest. Isaac sat off to the side on the couch, gripping his hands together with white knuckles, sweat beading on his forehead. Derek wanted to shift. He wanted to howl, rage, and tear the room apart, but seeing Isaac there so shaken, it trapped his rage like dropping a bomb in the ocean.
“Derek,” Isaac called in a daze. “How could his eyes be red? The way he used that command over me, like he knew. I don’t understand.”
Derek shook his head, glaring at everything. “I don’t know.”
Isaac stared at the large windows across from him, eyes unfocused. “If I wasn’t looking directly at him, I would have totally thought the order came from you.” He then flinched, looking down at his feet. “Derek, man, you have to know, if he didn’t do that, I never would have left. I swear! I was just about to throw him over my shoulder and drag him out of there, but then he-- he…” The younger wolf whimpered, and the sound finally made Derek stop. He felt the disguise of his anger fall away and he openly stared at Isaac, who was shaking.
“Alpha, please,” he whined, curling further in on himself. “I’m sorry.”
“Isaac,” Derek sighed, crossing the room to sit next to his Beta. Without thinking, he looped an arm around his shoulder, hating himself when the teenager tensed, as if preparing for a blow. “I have no idea what’s going on with Stiles, but he’s going to be alright. We’ll find him.”
“How?” Isaac spat, eyes flashing yellow. “They shot him, Derek! I could smell the wolfsbane!”
Derek bit back the furious howl climbing through his throat. The Hunters hurt his mate!
No. No, Stiles wasn’t his mate. He made that decision when he ran from him, when he hurt him. His wolf wanted Stiles. It wanted to claim Stiles, mark him and take him for their own until the day they died. Even then, Derek wasn’t sure the wolf would let something as simple as death tear them apart. The only other time he and his wolf have been at such odds with each other was Kate.
He was so addicted to Kate. She was older, having picked him out of all the guys in school...all the guys in Beacon Hills! She gave him awesome gifts. A basketball signed by the Sacramento Kings for his birthday, a dirt bike for their two-month anniversary, a brand new pair of Air Jordan Melo 5.5’s after he lost his virginity to her...his wolf despised her, but he was in love.
Now his wolf despised him. Their mate was right there in front of them. Their scents coalesced into something so right. For the first time in about seven years, he smelled a scent that he could call home.
But he couldn’t be Kate. He had to give Stiles a chance to move on. He needed to give Stiles the opportunity to escape this world of never-ending night and death.
Look what good that did, his wolf seethed. Mate hurt. Mate gone. Need mate back! Home. Need home!
“Derek?” Isaac’s voice cut through the red haze in his head, pulling his attention back out to the world around them. “Someone’s coming.”
They both leapt up from the couch. Derek rolled over the back of the couch to face the door, while Isaac quickly stepped around it. They both shifted to their Beta form, growling at the footsteps approaching the door. Whoever it was, they were in a rush, panting for breath.
Derek started forward, a growl echoing through the apartment, but then he paused when the panting took on a familiar wheeze.
“Derek, man, open up!” Scott called, knocking rapidly on the door. “It’s Stiles! Hunters have Stiles!”
Isaac moved first, sliding open the heavy door with almost too much force. “We know.” He admitted, grimacing. “Get in here, Scott.”
Scott walked in, sparing a quick glare in Derek’s direction, before turning fully to Isaac. “What happened?” he asked. “I got a text from Stiles’ phone saying that I have until dawn to give up the real Alpha, whatever that means.”
Isaac’s shoulders curled inward, guarding himself. “The Hunters found me and Stiles at school. They tried to kill me, but Stiles got in the way. He got hurt. I tried to lead them away, but then he started yelling at them saying he was my Alpha, so they got him.”
Scott shook his head, looking between them. “That makes no sense. Why would they think he was an Alpha? He’s just Stiles.”
“It speaks volumes about how much you pay attention to your so-called best friend.” Derek sneered. “If you had been paying any attention to Stiles the past several weeks, you would know exactly why they thought he was the Alpha.”
Scott turned to Derek, yellow eyes burning with anger. “What the hell do you know about it, Derek? Nothing’s been going on with Stiles.”
“Scott,” Isaac said softly, putting a hand on the other teen’s shoulder. “I don’t know how, but Stiles has the powers of an Alpha. I left him behind, not because I wanted to…” Scott looked over his shoulder to Isaac, confusion softening his features. “He ordered me to. His eyes turned red and he ordered me to run.”
“It’s true.” Derek said, though they could all hear the truth in Isaac’s heartbeat. “I saw his eyes turn red a couple of weeks ago. Though, I thought I just imagined it.” After all, that kind of power would have made his mate that much more desirable. It wasn’t the first time he imagined Stiles’ gaze burning red as he towered over Derek.
“But he’s not a werewolf!” Scott exclaimed.
Derek shrugged. “I have no idea how to explain it, Scott. He is a human with the influence of an Alpha. Being human is keeping him safe with the Hunters for now, but if they find out he’s more, the Code won’t protect him.”
Then the three wolves startled when Scott’s phone pinged with a new message. Scott retrieved the phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen then tensing. “It’s a message from Stiles’ phone.”
Derek stiffened, resisting the urge to yank the phone from the Beta’s hands. “What does it say?”
Scott opened the message with a few swipes of his thumb. Derek couldn’t see the screen from where he stood, but when it opened, both Isaac and Scott gasped. When Scott looked back up at Derek, it was with the coldest hate-filled expression.
Derek almost didn’t want to look when Scott offered him the phone. “So much for the Code protecting him.”
Derek took the phone then, forcing his wolf to stay down as he looked at the message. No, not a message. An image.
His brain spent too long trying to process the image in his hand. It was a picture of Stiles, blood-soaked and unconscious. He was sitting on a concrete floor, but his hands were chained up high against a metal crossbeam. He had a series of bruises and scrapes down each side of his face, one eye swollen shut, and blood trickling down his chin. His head hung at a painful angle, his body limp. The bruising continued down his neck until it disappeared the low neck of his t-shirt. His signature red hoodie was gone. The light blue graphic tee he wore was ruined by the blood dripping from his side, the shiny wet stain spreading halfway up his chest. His shoes were gone as well as his socks. His jeans were torn in places and Derek couldn’t tell if it was blood or anything else soaking the dark material. He then noticed that among the bruising on his neck, only my marks belong there!, there were small burn marks, like the pricks of a needle.
Stiles was being tortured. Tortured as they would any other werewolf. So much for the Code, indeed.
“I’m going to rip them apart.” Derek hissed, barely pulling himself together before he crushed Scott’s phone. Above the picture was the message Scott mentioned. It didn’t even attempt to look like Stiles’ as the writer.
"So what are we going to do?" Isaac asked, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. "How can we find these guys?"
"Derek," Scott said, ignoring Isaac for the moment. "What is going on?"
Derek suppressed the growl his wolf so desperately wanted to let out. This beta, this pup, rejected them as Alpha. And considering how this pup ignored their mate, he wasn't sure if they wanted him as part of the pack anyway! But he was still a wolf and there was strength in numbers…"We don't have time to go over this! It says we have until dawn and it's already ten. We have eight hours to find Stiles!"
"I'll talk to Allison!" Scott offered instantly. "If it's Hunters we're dealing with, her dad has to know who they are."
“There is no time!” Derek spat, eyes red. Isaac visibly suppressed a flinch, looking away from Derek, but Scott met his eye, frowning. Then the phone pinged again with a message.
Isaac tensed, rubbing the back of his neck and cheek. Scott glanced down at his phone in Derek’s hand, the sad puppy look back. Derek was scared to look. He was already on thin ice with his control. He needed stability. He needed reason. He needed his Alpha.
“Let me hold the phone, Derek.” Scott said softly, holding out his hand. “If it gets too much for you, you don’t have to look.”
“I need to look.” He hissed, but he handed over the phone anyway. Scott turned away from him, aiming the screen at both of them so they could see. They noticed the message wasn’t a picture or more threats. It was even worse.
It was a video.
Without saying anything, Scott slowly pressed play and the blurry camera footage moved through what looked like an industrial basement with small, high windows and exposed air ducts running along the ceiling. Stiles was set up towards the middle of the room. Off in the corner of the room was a sawhorse and small planks of wood, sawdust scattered across the concrete floor. On the other side of the room was the back end of a windowless van with the doors open, as if waiting to be loaded. There was a table closer to the camera with a variety of instruments and tools that Derek’s mind refused to process. He felt more than saw Isaac lean over the two of them, watching the footage. Nothing else in the room was worth their attention and there was nothing to identify a location.
“Alright, kiddo, camera’s rolling. You know what to do.” A gruff voice said over the video, obviously the one holding the camera. Derek watched with dread, a low whine building in his chest, as Stiles lifted his head, tilting far to the side as if he couldn’t find the strength to lift it straight.
“Read the cards, play the victim, yada yada yada.” Stiles snarked, voice muffled by his swollen lip. “No matter what I say, or do, they won’t care. I’m just their pet human, dude.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” Derek fought to stay still as Stiles’ screams echoed over the footage as a masked Hunter got Stiles with a cattle prod. They released him as quickly as they came, leaving Stiles to squirm in his chains, groaning. “Now, Stiles, you only have one job. Care to cooperate?”
“Fuck off!” Isaac flinched hard next to them, chewing nervously on his thumb as Stiles screamed again. “Alright!” Stiles snapped, glaring at the camera. “Fine, asshole! I’ll read the cards.”
The voice behind the camera chuckled, and Scott stiffened, claws extending around the screen of the phone. Derek could feel his canines elongate so his control wasn’t much better. “Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Stilinski.”
“I swear, you Hunters are all the same! Do you guys come out of a factory or something?!” Stiles groaned, straightening up before staring straight into the camera. Derek felt like he was looking straight through the phone to him. He watched his Alpha take a deep breath, wincing with what looked like a rib injury then whimpering when it pulled on his bullet wound. He finally fell limp, swearing under his breath, before he spoke. “This is for Alpha Hale and the pack of Beacon Hills. We know who you are. They really don’t, guys. They just know about me and Derek. You-know-who that I rescued by making these guys look like complete idiots, I hope you’re okay.” He was cut off by another hit with the cattle prod, screaming until his voice cracked. It took another minute or two before he was able to speak again. “Anyway, as they were saying, we know you’re building your pack. We know you’re vulnerable, and we will not show mercy. We will carry out our duty to the human race and annihilate you and anyone who affiliates with your kind. Seriously, guys, need to work on the whole doom and terror shtick.” This time, he was punched across the face by another Hunter. He grunted in pain, spitting out a mouthful of blood before looking back at the camera.
Whatever easy expression he had on his face up until then vanished, his face going blank. The lack of expression on a face like Stiles’ scared Derek more than anything else he saw that night. Tears stung in his eyes as he knew what was coming next.
Stiles sniffled loudly, his suspended fists clenching tight. “Humans like Stiles Stilinski who choose monsters over their own kind are the worst traitors of them all, and they should be made an example of.” Stiles paused, panting, shaking his head as if to wake himself up. When his eyes met the camera, Derek could almost see the sorrow in his mate’s face. “By the time you see this, I will be where you can’t find me. By sunrise tomorrow, I will be dead. I deserve the worst punishment of them all. I will die a slow and painful death and there is noth--” He paused, a hiccup escaping his lips. He struggled in his chains for a moment, sobbing in pain as he jostled his injuries. “There is nothing you can do to s-stop it.”
Large tears tickled as they dropped down Derek’s cheeks. He could smell the salt in the air of the others’ pain. He should comfort them as Alpha. He should stop them from watching this, but he was a shitty Alpha, so he did nothing. He instead watched his mate read his own death certificate, fighting with everything he had to not react as violently and savagely as he wanted to.
“To Alpha Hale, we are coming. First your pet, then your pack, then you. Fear us, Derek Hale. We are coming for you.” Derek expected the video to end there, but then Stiles’ blank face shifted to a small, gentle smile. “To my best friend, I’m sorry you have to do this on your own. To the betas, you’re jerks, but you’re mine, and I wish we had more time to get to know each other.” Stiles paused, taking a deep breath. “To my Alpha, I’m sorry that I can’t be what you need the most. I’m sorry I can’t be there for you. Take care of our pups. Take care of my dad, tell him everything. Tell him I love him. And just know that everything, all of it, was real to me.”
Stiles’ expression then twisted into an ugly sneer, his clenched fists turning into two middle fingers. “That being said, I can’t wait to get a bowl of popcorn and watch from the afterlife as our pack whips these guys’ self-righteous ass. Don’t waste time missing me. Tear them apart!”
Before the video cut out, it caught the last image of Stiles screaming as they descended on him with tasers and fists. Derek gave an unearthly snarl, walking away from the phone before he could destroy it. Scott barely put it down in time before he too lost control. Isaac was in beta shift but he avoided the others by curling into a nearby corner. The loft was filled with angry growls and the sound of scraping claws as they paced back and forth. Derek fought to control himself, but his wolf was howling inside for their mate. Scott was seething, ready to search for his best friend. Isaac whined pitifully, most likely feeling guilty that Stiles was in this situation.
They all froze in trepidation when the phone pinged once again with a message. They rushed to the phone. Derek beat them to it, lifting it up to read the message. This time, it was a message instead of anything else.
‘The Preserve. Happy hunting.’
“Stiles is in the Preserve. They left him for us to find.” Fury unlike anything Derek had ever felt pumped through him. The Preserve was his. It belonged to his family and it was his territory, and right now, Stiles was fighting for his life out there.
“We need to call his dad, Derek. We can build a search party.” Scott tried to sound hopeful, but it was muffled through his canines.
Derek fought the urge to throttle him. “There isn’t enough time! By the time we get the party rounded up, it will be too late. It’ll be easier to track him.”
“And if we can’t?” Scott asked, pushing Derek’s control. “What then?”
“I can start in the graveyard and work my way in.” Isaac offered, gaining Derek’s attention. “I can take about ten miles on that side of the forest.”
Derek nodded, “That will work. You know the area. I’ll circle the house and the base of the mountain.” He then looked over to Scott, “Can you take the Wildlife Basin?”
Scott nodded, his beta shift still firm in place. “I got it. Make sure your phones are on you. We need real-time updates if we find anything.”
“Then let’s go. We have until sunrise.” Without any argument, they rushed out of the loft, taking Derek’s Camaro. If they noticed Derek flooring the gas, they didn’t say anything as they prepared to search.
Stiles kind of wished he didn’t wake up, but waking up meant he was alive. Being alive, however, meant he could feel the overwhelming pulse of pain sweep through him. He took deep breaths, fighting off nausea, the urge to scream, and anything else his collection of wounds prompted him to do. The bullet was still firmly lodged in his abdomen and cut through new tissue with every breath he took. The fever set in not long ago, chilling him to the bone. The bastards used wolfsbane bullets on him. He knew it wasn’t an automatic death like it was with the others, but it couldn’t be good either way. His ribs also ached, as well as his face. He wanted to just keep his eyes shut forever to avoid whatever else the Hunters had planned for him.
His hands spasmed and that’s when he realized he was no longer chained up. His hands weren’t bound, so why did he still feel trapped? Why was his breathing still as thin as before?
He lifted his hand, groaning, aiming to hold his ribs in place so he could take a full breath, but then his hand knocked into solid wood a few inches above him. When he opened his eyes to investigate, he realized with dread that it was pitch black, almost as if he didn’t open them at all. He fought to stay calm as he felt around with his hands and feet, but he quickly lost the will to do that when he was surrounded by wood on all sides. The smell of fresh cut lumber choked him as chills ran up his spine. Those assholes boxed him up. What? Was a prison cell not good enough? They had to give him the tiniest prison ever! He was already dying of wolfsbane poisoning, not to mention blood loss, they didn’t have to add suffocation on top of that!
With a curse, he began to beat against the top and the sides of the box, calling for the Hunters to let him out. This was overkill. There was no need to--to--
A small crack formed under Stiles’ fist when he hit the top of the box, and made him splutter as a small trickle of dirt fell in and hit him in the face. Dirt. Dirt?! Dirt!
“No,” he moaned, feeling the confines of his prison again. “No, no, no, no.” He again beat against the wood of the box. This time, he noticed how his sounds were muted, how his voice stayed within the box, as if trapped in by a solid mass around him. Almost as if--
Stiles screamed, both in fury and terror. His body gave way to panic, flailing desperately in the too-small box. He yelled, begged, for someone to let him out, but he knew no one would be able to hear him. How could they? He doubted even werewolf hearing would be able to help him now.
Tears burned the scrapes and cuts on his face as he slowly forced himself to relax. He bit his lip, screaming in frustration, as he fought off even more panic attacks. He couldn’t lose his head, not now.
He had to give his pack time to find him. It wouldn’t do no good to waste what precious hours he had by panicking.
After all, he only had a few hours of oxygen left.
Derek, Isaac, and Scott had been running for an hour before an important clue was found. It turns out that all three routes they had were tainted with Stiles’ scent. If Derek was one to guess, drops of his blood and shreds of his clothing would be over every square mile of the Preserve. Fake trails were left in every direction, which is why they wasted an hour already.
It was finally Isaac that called Derek when his fake trail led to Stiles’ jacket, hung high in a tree.
“Anything on the jacket that can tell you where he is?” Derek asked. He heard the thick cotton of Stiles’ signature red hoodie rustle over the phone and Isaac sniffing the fabric.
“A lot of blood. Mostly Stiles’, but it seems like he got a few hits in.” There was a pause as Derek heard Isaac inhale again. “Not much else of the Hunters. There’s wolfsbane, though. Right around where he was shot.”
Derek fought to stay silent, but the woods around him blurred as his eyes stung.
“There’s something here. Something else.” Isaac paused to sniff again. “It’s familiar but I don’t know--ow!” He cut himself off as he swore.
“Isaac,” Derek called over the phone, heart rate picking up. “Isaac, are you okay?”
There was shuffling on the other end before Isaac came back, “Yeah, just dropped the phone. There was a splinter on Stiles’ jacket.” Then there was a pause.
When Isaac continued speaking, his voice changed, becoming more fearful and cautious. “Derek?”
“What? What is it?” Derek could feel his wolf become stronger inside of him as his anxiety grew.
“This splinter, it’s lighter than anything out here. Almost like lumber.”
Derek nodded, walking further through the trees, catching the same fake trails of Stiles’ scent. He followed them anyway. Maybe somewhere along the way, there was another clue. “There was lumber in the video.”
“Explains the weird smell. It’s been treated.” Isaac took another inhale. Derek guessed he was smelling the splinter. He listened quietly on the phone as he leapt over an outcropping of rocks, glaring at the carefully dripped spot of Stiles’ blood dead center of the rock face. Stiles wouldn’t have dripped on the rocks. He would have slipped in his haste to climb it and blood would stain the jagged edges that ran along it.
Then both Derek’s ears and the chilly air of night rang with Isaac’s mournful howl. Derek stood frozen, shocked and unsure what to do, until Scott’s answering howl echoed through the Preserve. He hung up his phone, stowing it in his pocket, before taking off toward Isaac’s location. Soon he could hear Scott falling into step beside him, their inhuman speed making the forest fade into a blur of color and sound.
They found Isaac curled up about a mile in from the cemetery against a tree, staring blankly at the ground. His jaw was clenched tight and his grip on Stiles’ jacket was deathly.
“It’s pine.” He said hollowly, his voice thick with fear. “The smell I recognized on his jacket. I couldn’t place it because I wasn’t around it after I was bitten. The splinter on Stiles’ jacket is treated pine wood.”
Dread chilled Derek to the core. His wolf whined in misery and he felt the urge to do the same. After Isaac was bitten, there was one place Derek told him not to go. The smell of death was hard for a wolf to deal with, especially that of a newly bitten wolf. He was working on how Isaac could keep his job, but then his father was killed, so it wasn’t a concern.
“The lumber where Stiles’ was kept,” Isaac said again. “It was treated pine. There’s splinters and sawdust all over his jacket!”
“What does this mean?” Scott asked, voice on edge. Then again, they all were.
Derek didn’t want to say it. Isaac couldn’t bring himself to say it. Derek had no idea how to deal with this. He turned and looked back into the tree line of the Preserve. Now knowing where Stiles was, well, the danger he was in, the woods he grew up in and loved suddenly seemed never-ending and impossible. His chest grew tight and finally a low whine escaped his chest.
“Alpha,” he whispered, eyes scanning the millions and millions of trees closing in on them. “My Alpha, where are you? Please. I need you.”
“Derek?” Scott asked, worried. Only this time when Derek met his gaze, the concern was for him. “What does the pine wood mean? You’re scaring me.”
“Good. You should be scared. We have to search harder.” He walked over to Isaac, holding out a hand to lift him up. Despite rising to his feet, the young wolf still remained curled in on himself, clutching Stiles’ hoodie like a blanket. “Ignore the scent trails. Focus on the ground instead. Investigate any patch of disturbed earth.” He paused to point a finger in Scott’s face, conveying with his red eyes how well he wants the beta to listen, to obey. “Call us if you find anything, anything, that hints at humans.”
“Why?” Scott spat, almost panicked. “What did they do to Stiles? Where is he?”
“He’s trapped.” Isaac whimpered, hands shaking. “Small space. So dark. Can’t get out.”
“Isaac,” Derek called softly, using his grip on the boy’s arm to give him a grounding squeeze. “Stay with us. Stiles needs your help.”
Isaac nodded after a moment, before taking a deep inhale of his jacket. “I should be able to pick up the wood if we get close enough.”
“Where is he?!” Scott snapped, voice echoing off the trees. So many, many trees.
“He’s underground, Scott!” Derek answered him, fighting the urge to go feral, to just give in.
Find our mate!
“The treated pine is used to make coffins, Scott! That’s how Isaac recognized the smell. They sent us to the Preserve because they knew we wouldn’t--would have never thought--” He took a deep breath. He didn’t want to say it, but he had to. He had to say it so that Scott could finally understand what was at stake. “Stiles has been buried alive. We have until sunrise to not only find him, but dig him up. Stiles is dying.”
Despite the desire, the all-consuming need, to howl his grief, he bit it back. Now was not the time. Derek needed to find Stiles.
Derek Hale needed his Alpha, and he needed him now.