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IX. YOU THINK I'M BADASS?
"Could you buzz us in?"
After many hours of holding Jackson captive in the back of a- stolen -police van, the kanima had escaped. Which was very, very bad news for the teens. A blend of annoyance and unbearable trepidation churned in Peyton's gut.
"I can't believe we're in this situation just because scotty dog couldn't keep his dick his pants." Peyton uttered angrily under her breathe, the boy giving her a short glare in response. He was definitely not grateful for the lack of optimism she had about the whole situation. But, then again, Peyton Greene had never been a beacon of optimism.
And after a night of chasing Jackson as a kanima and ending in gay bar; finding the kanima on a hunt for yet another suspect; many guys being paralysed from the neck down including danny; Derek cutting the kanima's throat; finding Jackson lying limp on the floor; Noah Stilinski finding the trio at the crime scene; Stiles failing to have a fake coming out to his father; taking Jackson capative for days before his inevitable escape as a kanima, it was safe to say she had a reason to not be so positive.
Stiles opened the door, hesitating before he ventured further, fearing the need to explain the impossible. The supernatural was something no one was ready to accept, Peyton could still hardly believe what her last year had turned into. Her normal teenage years were now tainted by unwanted fear and merciless creatures.
Trying to tell a sheriff wasn't going to be easy, even with Scott as proof, they would simply label it as some sort of unhysterical trick.
Scott gave him an encouraging nod whilst Peyton couldn't muster any sort of persuasion that it was going to be okay. Because she didn't believe it was, a lurking suspicion of unease festered in her turmoil of a mind.
A shaky breathe left her parted lips when she spotted Jackson and his dad sat in Sheriff Stilinksi's office. The inevitable hit her like a truck going a thousand miles an hour. She closed her eyes as she toke a long breathe in. They were so, so stupid.
"Scott, Peyton, Stiles... Perfect timing." His voice coated in evident annoyance at the trio, "Have you met Jackson's father, Mr. David Whittemore, Esquire?" Sheriff Stilinski stared the three down, a frown forming on Peyton's face unable to hide her emotions.
"That means lawyer." Jackson leaned forward smugly.
Stiles glanced back to his two best friends, knowing they were royally fucked.
A burning surged through Peyton's fingers as she picked at the skin around her nails. The pain being some sort of a distraction to the way Logan's eyes burned into her skull.
