Neriah Hale lost her family at the age of ten, leaving her in the town of Beacon Hills with no one but two boys and a secret that she'd spent her whole life hiding. But when one of the two boys gets bitten, she has to reveal her true self to help sa...
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"DID you get the picture?" Scott asked me over the phone, which I had on speaker while sitting in the backseat of Stiles's Jeep.
"Yeah, we did, and it looks just like the drawing," I told him, glancing back down at the paper in my hand.
Grabbing my hand, Derek pulled the phone closer to him. "Hey, is there something on the back of it?" he asked. "There's gotta be something. An inscription, an opening, something."
"No, no, the thing's flat," Scott informed us. "And, no, it doesn't open. There's nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing. And where are you?" he asked Stiles. "You're supposed to be here. You're first line."
"Exactly what I said," I grumbled, sending Derek a glare as I pulled my hand away and heard Coach in the background of the call asking for Bilinski. "He can't even get your name right?" I deadpanned to Stiles, who shrugged his shoulders.
"Man, you're not gonna play if you're not here to start," Scott warned into the phone, and I handed it to Stiles.
"I know," Stiles mumbled, hitting the steering wheel in disappointment. "Look, if you see my dad, can you tell him...Tell him I'll be there, I'll just be a little bit late, okay?"
Even without having to look at Stiles, I knew he was upset about not being at the game tonight. He was excited all day and so was his dad, and his dad's happiness was the main thing Stiles cared about.
"You're not gonna make it," Derek warned when Stiles hung up the phone.
"I know," Stiles said in disappointment.
"And you didn't tell him about his mom, either."
I slapped Derek on the back of the head. "Thank you, Mr. Obvious," I mumbled, leaning forward between the two seats and throwing up my hand in front of his face when he started glaring at me. "We aren't telling his mom until we find out the truth."
"By the way, one more thing," Derek said and I dropped my hand.
Stiles looked at him. "Yeah?"
Reaching across, Derek grabbed the back of Stiles's head, slamming it into the steering wheel as my eyes widened.
"Oh, God!" Stiles groaned in pain, holding his face. "What the hell was—"
Derek pointed a finger at him with a pissed-off expression. "You know what that was for."
Shaking my head at Derek in disappointment, I then grabbed the back of his head, slamming it into the dashboard before he could stop me. "That was for Stiles," I snarked with a sharp tone as he groaned, flashing his blue eyes at me. "Stiles, we should go," I quickly said, pushing Stiles to get out of the Jeep. "Go!"
Throwing the door open, Stiles stumbled out of the Jeep as I scrambled over the seat and jumped out next to him before Derek could slam my head next.
"Stupid werewolf," I muttered, slamming the Jeep door shut before grabbing Stiles and walking us toward the same care facility my dad lived in.
