Yours (Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter Thirty Two

"Guys, wake up!" I felt blankets being pulled off of me, and I groaned. My headed pounded with pain. I opened my eyes, putting a hand up to the sun, and I almost hit Stiles in the face. I was laying with one leg over his legs, and my arm holding a pillow under my head. We were pretzeled together. Scott stood in front of us with a panicked expression, and I sat up.

"What? What is it?" I yawned. He looked at Stiles and I for a moment before shaking his head.

"It's Matt. You were right. And... and Allison's mom... She's dead," Scott said. My eyes widened, and my brain flashed back to the night of the rave when her Mom had tried to kill my brother. I was determined at that point to not let her mother ruin our relationship. I remember Scott telling me that Derek had bit her, but I kinda thought nothing would happen since she was a hunter. I covered my mouth with a hand.

"Jesus. Did she— did she?" I couldn't finish the question. I had assumed that if the hunters became something that they hunted, well. They would either die at the hands of one of their own, or by their own blade. Scott nodded, and I looked over at Stiles who was now very awake.

"Oh shit," was all Stiles said. We all looked at each other for a moment, and then we got up. This was not good.

—

"So, this kid's the real killer?" Mr. Stilinski said

"Yeah," Stiles said. Scott made breakfast today. I felt bad that we hadn't been at home to see Mom in a couple of nights, but after finding this out, we needed to work quickly.

"No," Mr. Stilinski said, shaking his head.

"Yes!"

"No."

"Dad, come on! Everybody knows that the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder, okay? So, all he had to do is, like, look through their transcripts and figure out which class they all had in common," Stiles said.

"Yeah, except for the fact that the rave promoter, Kara, wasn't in Harris' class," Mr. Stilinski said.

"All right. Okay, you're right. Sorry. Then, I guess they dropped the charges against him?"

"No, you know what? They're not dropping the charges. But, that doesn't prove anything—"

"Alright, you guys. Enough arguing. The only way we get through this is together, and you guys are worsening my headache," I groaned, drinking a cup of coffee. Mr. Stilinski raised an eyebrow at me.

"You shouldn't have been drunk, Y/n," he said with concern. I rolled my eyes.

"If we hadn't been— y'know what, nevermind. Look, it's really hard to explain how we know this, but you just gotta trust us," I said, locking eyes with Mr. Stilinski. Scott put a hand on my shoulder in support.

"We know it's Matt," he said.

"Yeah, he took Harris' car, okay? Look, he knew that if a cop found tire tracks at one of the murders, and that if enough of the victims were in Harris' class, that they'd arrest him," Stiles said. I nodded.

"All right, fine. I'll allow the remote possibility. But give me a motive. I mean, why would this kid want most of the 2006 swim team and its coach dead?" Mr. Stilinski asked.

"Isn't it obvious? Our swim team sucks! They haven't won in, like, six years!" Stiles said, and then sighed, shaking his head. "Okay, we don't have a motive yet. I mean, come on, does Harris?" He countered. I rolled my eyes.

"I think something happened. Last night, he freaked out about being dropped in Lydia's pool. Like, freaked out. I've never seen that kind of rage in a kid before, but Matt had it. Then the whole stalker thing with Allison... Mr. Stilinski, this kid is messed up," I explained.