the vanishing of Stiles Stilinski

the beginning

After the Beacon Hills High School graduation ceremony, the lacrosse team gathers for one final game, a tradition among the senior players. Still buzzing with the excitement of the day, they don their caps and gowns, though most quickly toss them aside for the familiarity of their street clothes. Despite the casual atmosphere, there's a strange tension in the air that no one can quite place.

Stiles Stilinski, known for his sharp wit and unorthodox style, surprises everyone by making the last score of the game, something he rarely did during the season. Just as the ball hits the net, the stadium lights suddenly flicker and go out, plunging the field into darkness. Shouts of confusion echo through the stands, and for a few seconds, the only sounds are the rustling of bodies and the distant hum of generators kicking in.

When the lights return, the field is illuminated once again—but Stiles is gone.

Panic sets in as the pack quickly realizes that this isn't just a prank. Scott McCall, usually the rock of the group, feels a cold dread settle in his chest, his wolf instincts screaming that something is very wrong. Derek Hale, who had been quietly planning to confess his feelings to Stiles the next day, is struck by a wave of fear and guilt. He had waited, thinking he had time—but now Stiles is missing, and he might never get the chance to tell him how he truly feels.

As the pack regroups, they start searching for any clues, their fears growing as they come up empty-handed. Every lead turns into a dead end, and the realization dawns on them that whatever took Stiles was something powerful, something that wanted him specifically.

The clock is ticking, and with every passing moment, the hope of finding Stiles fades a little more. But Derek refuses to give up. Fueled by his unresolved feelings and the bond he shares with Stiles, he vows to bring him back, no matter what it takes.

The question that haunts them all: Where is Stiles, and what could possibly want him badly enough to take him from under their noses?

Derek Hale pushed the door of the small grocery store open, his thoughts preoccupied with the endless search for Stiles. Scott McCall walked beside him, silent but equally burdened by the weight of their missing friend. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the nearly deserted parking lot. Derek's heightened senses were on high alert, as they had been ever since that night, but he had grown accustomed to the constant unease.

As they stepped into the cool evening air, Derek suddenly froze mid-step. A familiar scent wafted through the breeze, faint but unmistakable. His heart skipped a beat. It was a scent he knew better than his own—a mixture of pine, old books, and something uniquely Stiles.

Derek's eyes widened, and he turned to Scott, his voice tight with urgency. "Scott, do you smell that?"

Scott's nose twitched, and his eyes darkened with recognition. "Stiles..." he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of hope and confusion. The scent was faint, but it was definitely Stiles. But why would he be here? And why wouldn't he make himself known?

Before either of them could react further, a man stepped out of the shadows between the parked cars. He was tall, his face obscured by a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. The man's movements were deliberate, his posture exuding an eerie confidence as he approached them. Derek immediately tensed, sensing danger.

The man stopped a few feet away and slowly lifted a handgun, pointing it directly at Derek's chest. His voice was cold and unfeeling as he spoke, "Are you Derek Hale?"

Derek's mind raced, his instincts screaming at him to move, to fight, but the scent of Stiles lingered in the air, clouding his judgment. The world seemed to slow down, and in that moment, Derek's thoughts were consumed by one thing: Stiles.