𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 ━━ LYDIA MARTIN

24

THE TWINS THREW Scott and Isaac on the ground and hovered over them. Just as they were about to attack, Reid rushed towards them, sending a punch in their stomach which was now one since they merged.

"Oh thank fuck," he smiled when they crashed into the wall behind them, "I've been waiting for this."

The twins growled loudly and stood up before charging at him. Reid, however was quicker as jumped on them which resulted in them falling on the ground while he straddled them, his fists making contact with their face over and over again as he hit them, taking out all his anger on them.

He was angry— mostly at Aiden who was trying to get with Lydia. For some reason, the thought of seeing the strawberry blonde with someone else made his blood boil.

The twins could barely do anything, it was common knowledge that Reid was strong. There was a reason why Deucalion wanted him in his pack. Scott and Isaac watched with wide eyes as Reid kept on beating them, his knuckles getting bloodied, mixing with their blood and his own as well.

"Reid, I believe that's enough." A familiar voice made his actions faltered. He looked up as did Scott and Isaac, their eyes falling on Deucalion who walked towards them.

"The smell of blood—" Deucalion began, his nose scrunching up in disgust, "— I told them not to engage. They got the lesson, leave them."

"Since when do I listen to you?" Reid questioned, tilting his head to the side even though Deucalion couldn't see him, "I'm not part of your little pack."

"You will be," Deucalion smiled as Reid pulled himself off the twins, standing up, "you're going to wish you had join me sooner when you realise that these new friends you've made are only going to weaken you."

"And you're gonna wish you didn't know me when I kill all your so called powerful alphas."

"We'll see about that." Deucalion spoke just as the twins separated themselves and stood in front of their alpha who scratched their cheeks with his cane then walked away while Reid watched them, clenching his jaw at the man.

"Why didn't you kill him?" Isaac questioned, standing back up along with Scott. They both looked at Reid, not knowing how powerful he truly was until a few seconds ago.

"Who, Deucalion?" He turned to them and Isaac nodded, "yeah. You could've taken him. You took the twins—"

"— It's not the same with Deucalion, okay?" He interrupted him, glancing down at his bloodied hands, "I can't kill him."

"You can't or you won't?" Scott frowned at his words, narrowing his eyes at the expression on Reid's face. Although he was against the idea of killing anyone, he wanted to know, "I don't understand. What's going on?"

"Nothing," he shook his head, "I'm gonna go wash my hands. I have something to do." With that, he was off, leaving two very confused werewolves behind.

After Reid was done getting rid of the blood coating his hands, he went to Mr Harris's class and saw Lydia, Deaton and Stiles already there.

"So was he the one taken?" He questioned, making his way inside.

"Apparently," Stiles responded, letting out a sigh, "this is bad."

"You don't say," Reid approached the table, looking down at the papers with Stiles, "look at these names, Tim got an R— wait, R?"

He showed the paper to Stiles who took it, frowning, "why's this graded R?"

"This one's an H," Lydia spoke, showing them another paper. Reid furrowed his brows as Deaton came to take a look himself.

He began looking at all the papers on by one, a frown tugging at his lips as he attempted to rearrange them. The teenagers behind him watched in anticipation as he finally rearranged the papers in the correct order— a clue Mr Harris left for them as if he knew he was about to get taken.

When Deaton finally did it, his eyes widened at the words and his breath hitched while the others had looks of indifference on their faces, unsure of what to make of it.

"Stiles, you remember I told you "Druid" is the Gaelic word for wise oak?" Deaton asked Stiles who nodded, "yeah."

"If a Druid went down the wrong path, the "wise oak" was sometimes said to have become a "dark oak." There's a Gaelic word for that, as well—" he paused, looking at the others, "— Darach."