Void (The Youngest, Book 3.B.)

Chapter 二十 (B)

Peter circled the couch where Stiles sat gagged, a calculating grin playing on his lips as he eyed the boy. Kylie was on the floor, crouched protectively beside Stiles with her small teddy bear in her hands. Her eyes darted between Stiles and Peter, a faint, distrustful rumble emanating from her, almost like a growl.

"He doesn't look like he'd survive a slap across the face, much less the bite of a werewolf." Peter's words were dismissive, but his gaze was sharp as he studied Stiles. He knelt, looking into Stiles' dark, unblinking eyes. Kylie's small hand gripped Stiles' knee, her golden eyes narrowing on Peter with suspicion. "And the girl—she's a wildcard," Peter said, sparing Kylie a glance. "Unpredictable, and fiercely loyal."

Scott stood nearby, his anxiety plain to see. "You don't think it'll work?" he asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

Peter sighed, straightening up, his eyes now flickering to Kylie. "What's happening to Stiles isn't just about his physical body. This is a battle of the mind. There are different methods to give him back his mind."

Deaton's interest piqued, and he stepped closer. "What kind of methods?"

Peter then reached out for Scott's hand and forced him to unsheathe his claws. "We're going to get inside his head. But first off-" Without hesitation, he moved swiftly, swiping the back of Kylie's neck. The little girl let out a yelp, her eyes widening in shock before they rolled back, and she crumpled onto Stiles' lap, unconscious.

"Peter!" Scott shouted, horror etched across his features. He yanked his hand away, staring between his sister and Peter. "What did you do?!"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Relax. The little one's just asleep," he said, his tone dismissive. "She's safer this way—out of the fight."

Scott wasted no time in scooping Kylie into his arms. He gently placed her on an armchair, his hand brushing through her hair, whispering reassurances she wouldn't hear. He gave her a kiss on the forehead, his expression a mix of fear and sadness before he turned his attention back to the chaos.

Peter, meanwhile, had dragged Lydia to the corner of the room, speaking in hushed, urgent tones.

Lydia's gaze flicked over to Scott, who was still fussing over Kylie. "I said I'd do it, alright? But only if you help us," she replied, her voice firm.

Peter smiled—a sly, calculating smile—and nodded before turning his attention back to the room.

"So, do we have a plan?" Deaton asked as Peter and Lydia re-entered the room.

Scott frowned. "What do you mean?"

Peter gestured towards Lydia. "Someone has to go with you—someone who knows Stiles and has a bond strong enough to reach him."

Lydia inhaled sharply, her determination clear as she moved to sit beside Stiles. She reached out, brushing a hand against his cheek. Scott took his place behind them, his hands hovering over both their necks.

"Okay, what exactly do I have to do?" Scott asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Peter grabbed Scott's hands, guiding them to the spots on Stiles' and Lydia's necks. "You're going to pull Stiles back from whatever abyss he's fallen into. Help him take back his body and mind."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Could you be any more vague, Peter?" she muttered. "How exactly do we do that?"

Peter merely shrugged. "Improvise."