Don't Make it Personal AA/TW

Williwaw

Authors note: Hola mi amigos. I hope you liked this chapter! It's a little short but I think it gets the job done.

CHAPTER 3 - WILLIWAW

—-Location: Beacon Hills, California—-Date: August 19th—Time: 0200hrs—

It took the pack a mere three hours to notice Scott's disappearance.

It was like a sudden violent wind igniting the scattered group into action. Malia had called them for an emergency pack meeting, launching into a tirade claiming that it didn't take 5 hours to get chicken.

Derek and Liam had gone to the grocery store to track Scott's sent. Finding his vehicle idly parked with its drivers side door wide open. The forgotten groceries tossed carelessly onto the dirty pavement.

"Were you able to track his scent?" Lydia shot up and asked as the two men slid open the lofts doors and wandered into the spacious room. She was chewing on her fingers like they were a four course meal.

They never did like the loft. Although it was Derek's home, it's connotations were of death and destruction. Too many ghosts lingered in its halls, manifesting a tense atmosphere of guilt. It had gotten a revamp over the past 10 years or so, Lydia helping make the space seem a little less dull and dreary by adding art and actual furniture to the space. Still, they never gathered here unless something was truly wrong, opting instead for Scott and Malia's house.

"Not really. It was like there was something blocking it." Liam replied, slumping down onto the the open couch. The pair could smell the presence of Scott and five other wolves, but as soon as they reached the end of the dimly lit parking lot, Scott's sent vanished. Leaving only the smell of freshly cut grass and gasoline.

"The Sheriff checked the cameras at the store and caught five wolfs pulling Scott into a van. He's running the licence plate as we speak." Derek huffed, his voice sounding both angry and anxious.

"That's good right? the plates should lead us right to them?" Malia added, pacing around the room as if she was trying to create rivets in the concrete flooring. "Unless they covered their tracks..."

"I didn't scream, so Scott must still be alive." Lydia bluntly stated. Trying to find any positive in the grim situation.

Derek could see right through Lydia's attempt to calm the group and it only seemed to anger him further. "You didn't scream for Stiles' either."

His words were met with electrified silence. Every head in the room whipping towards him like they had just been collectively slapped. He knew he shouldn't have said it. Even 10 years later Stiles' name was still a sore subject. A name that should only be brought up ceremoniously. They didn't like to remember Stiles like this.

Derek shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He's not going to apologize for his words. Hell, it needed to be said. Just because Lydia hadn't screamed for the young veterinarian doesn't mean that he's still alive. For all they know he could be dead in a ditch.

Before anyone made a move to break the silence, The hushed room was extirpated by the sound of Derek's phone. The ring piercing into the silence.

Pulling the device out of his pocket, Derek answered the call quickly to avoid talking about his outburst. "Hello?..You got the plate?...France?...Are you sure?...Ya ok...I'll let them know. "

The pack waited with bated breaths for any kind of answer to where their missing Alpha may be.

"Are you coming? Ok... See you soon." Derek finished, before hanging up the phone, placing the cell back into his stretched out pocket. He turned towards the group, hiding any trace of emotion on his face. "That was the Sheriff. He says the plates are registered as a rental car. Apparently the wolves are from France."

"France? What the hell are they doing in Beacon Hills?" Lydia questioned leaning on the edge of her seat. The whole pack reeked of curious anxiety.

"I'm not too sure. But Noah said they were scheduled on a private flight back to Europe."

.

It was funny. If someone would have told Derek 15 years ago that he would be good friends with the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, he would have laughed in their face. But times were different now.

Derek and Noah had grown closer over the years. Working together to try and solve Beacon Counties "mysteriously" large crime rate. Although the Sheriff had Parrish, it was nice to have a werewolf on the right side of the law.

After the loss of the Sheriff's only son. Derek started showing up every Friday night on the older man's door. First with cheap take out like chinese, then eventually with home cooked meals. It became a planned but unplanned ritual. Two lost souls relishing in each others forlorn company. They both lost family. Lost their genetic connections to the harsh reality of existence. So they ate together in silence. The grandfather clock in the other room ticking away, signalling the time passed. It was weird. Weird but nice.

.

"When does the flight leave? Maybe we can stop them?" Liam said, Jumping up from his crumpled position on the couch. He curled his fingers into his palms to make a fist.

"2 hours ago..." Derek breathed out in defeat. "It left 2 hours ago."

"What... Why would they even take Scott to France? What are they trying to accomplish?" Lydia frustratingly exclaimed.

The pack, completely immersed in their own line of thinking hadn't noticed a figure at the top of the loft, eerily standing in it's open doorway.

"We're not going to figure it out just standing around here, now are we?" The Sheriff stoically pronounced. He held his body in a powerful stance, fighting the urge to indulge his inner worry. "The next flight to Paris leaves at 0900 hours."

"Wait, you want us to fly halfway around the world, with no information other than where the flight landed, and that these wolves may or may not have taken Scott with them?" Lydia remarked. She felt like they at least needed something more concrete to work with. "What if this whole thing is a trap?"

"Do you have a better solution?" Malia huffed. Ready to board whatever plane she needed to in order to see her husband again.

What was left of the Beacon Hills pack looked around at each other, gauging their colleagues expressions. No one moved to object, or better yet offer any other route to solving their problem.

Tired of the lack of response Derek made the call. "Guess we better start packing."

Looks like the pack was heading to France. 

Like always please like and comment! It keeps me going :').

Williwaw: a sudden violent wind.