The Sicilian Defence [Derek Hale]

Chapter Forty-Seven

Ignoring the empty numbness which seemed to fill my stomach, I pushed myself up the stairs of the Stilinski household. It was midnight, and everything felt alone and cold. Making it to the top, a hiss fell from my lips as my toe hit a book. I really was a terrible werewolf. Something was wrong.

Peering inside Stiles room I checked everything: laptop, computer, the case board, string everywhere, messy bed, shoes, clothes. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that screamed something had happened or was wrong.

No Stiles.

There was no Stiles.

A tunnel invaded my mind making him the only one I could think about. He should be here. He had to be here. Grabbing onto my phone I quickly dialled his number pressing it to my ear. Pacing back and forth, I couldn't help but mutter out the same plea for him to pick up over and over again. Ring. Ring. Ring. It was the most frustrating noise in the world. Where are you, Stiles? Trying again, the bile lodged its way into my throat making it impossible to think about anything. Where had he gone? Where could he have possibly gone?

This was useless. Throwing my phone back into my pocket I quickly left. I needed to find him.

Rushing up the stairs of the loft, I didn't bother knocking as I burst in. I couldn't have gone up the elevator. To sit around and do nothing, I couldn't do that. "Derek? Derek?!" I called out, trying to find him. The waiting was horrible, why was there so much waiting?

Grabbing onto the jewel on my earring I began to twist it and fiddle with it trying to ignore the anxiety that crawled through my veins. What if he was dead? What if he was lying on the forest floor, dead. He couldn't be... he...no... he could be in pain and suffering and alone and cold and... he could be terrified...

"Grace?" Derek's sluggish voice called out. He was clumsily walking down the mental staircase waking up from his sleep. Some sort of relief flooded through me upon seeing him, but it was nothing that could deter me away from the panic.

"W-we have to go. Now. Like right now," I rambled gesturing to the door. He was so slow. Stop being so slow.

"What?" He asked, stopping in his actions. No, don't stop we're in a rush here.

"Stiles is missing now come on. We have to go. You have to... we need to go and find him...he's missing....he...he could be dead, alone, scared...cold...he could be dying," I trailed off my eyes burning at the thought of it and I didn't even notice him walking over to me until his hands were on my arms.

"Grace, calm down." He urged, "we'll find him, don't worry."

"He's all alone," I repeated my voice barely louder than a whisper.

"It's alright, we'll find him." His assurance meant nothing, "now come on," he urged and we both went into the elevator. I couldn't stand still. Scanning the ceiling I tried to find something that was distracting but nothing was. What if he was dying? It was freezing. His coat was still in his room.

"H-he's going to be cold," I cut in, "his coat was still on the floor so he... he's going to be out there with no coat."

"Hey, hey," Derek cut in,"Grace, we'll find him. He can have my coat. It's going to be okay, alright?" He added on, and I nodded slightly turning away from him. Why had I come to him first, again?

Derek's phone rang out and I immediately look to him, "what is it? Is it him?"

"No, it's Scott. They found his jeep at the hospital," he said, and I nodded slightly. What was he doing in the hospital?