assassins. berserkers. kate argent.
betrayal. jealousy. fear.
the pack is in for one hell of a semester.
book 3 in the carson rivera series
teen wolf season 4
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
_____________ c h a p t e r s e v e n t e e n
Carson, by Lydia's coercion, heads over to Stiles' house to help the duo figure out the cipher key for the last code.
"Okay, while I love puzzles, I'm like the least helpful person in this group. I'm useless," Carson sits on the desk next to the computer.
"You are extremely helpful, which is why you're here. Now start thinking," Stiles points to her. He didn't understand why she thought she wasn't any help. Every time they had something to figure out, she was right by his or Lydia's side, making some last minute realization to save them all.
"I guess," she mumbles, and he realizes why she felt that way.
It was his fault. He was the one who reminded her of all her faults the minute she came back. Making a mental note to make this collosal mistake right ASAP, he focuses back on the task at hand.
"Great," he nods, before looking back at the computer. "Try Maddy. It's got to be Maddy."
"Doesn't Maddy feel a little obvious as a cipher key?" Lydia retorts.
"It definitely does. It has to be something more hidden," Carson nods, putting her hair into a ponytail.
"I guarantee it's Maddy," he stresses.
She obliges, punching in the name, only for it to not work.
"Okay, your name. She left the code for you, right? So it's got to be your name."
Lydia doesn't work either, and Stiles just starts spewing ideas.
"Your mom's name?"
"Do you have any beloved family pets?"
"Prada! Did Lorraine know Prada?" Carson shouts.
"Carson, she died when I was like 9. Why would she know Prada?"
"Sorry for coming up with something. I don't see you spitting out any great ideas," she flares her hands out.
"Well if your ideas were great, we would have solved the damn thing!"
"Oh, you know what? You forced me here-"
"Oh my god, both of you are terrible guessers, we get it!" Stiles dramatically states, banging his head into the desk.
"Sorry," they both say.
Stiles then slides next to Carson, drumming his fingers on the desk.
"The ashes were left for you. The code was left for you. You're supposed to be able to figure this out."
"But no one else is," Carson sighs, while the printer starts beeping for some reason.
