Right Beside You | Stiles Stilinski | Two

35 - Hostage Negotiation

"Fuck you, Matt."

Matt grinned as he strode forward, patting me down for a moment until he found my phone where I'd tucked it into my bra. He slipped it out, flipping it in his hand and winking at me. "I think I'll take this, thanks."

"You could at least buy me dinner first, asshole."

"God, you're just so unoriginal, Scarlett. If you're not gonna be funny, the least you can do is be respectful. After all, your life is—it's literally in my hands."

He laughed, a strangled, desperate sound that made the blood rush to his face. His gun trained on Stiles's chest, he raised his free hand until it was level with my throat. He crushed the air between his fingers, and in perfect time, I felt Jackson's tail constricting my windpipe. I tried desperately not to sputter, but the air squeaked out of me as my head began to pound. Stiles was yelling again, but Matt simply chucked and dropped his hand. In an instant, I was crashing to the floor, released but still gasping.

"What?" Matt asked innocently. "I'm the only one who can't make Star Wars jokes?"

"This is the one controlling him?" Derek growled from his position on the floor. "This kid?"

"Well, Derek, not everyone's lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf."

Matt crouched over him, staring into his face with a dangerous, manic look.

"Oh yeah, that's—that's right. I've learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, kanimas. It's like a freaking Halloween party every full moon. Except for you two, I guess," he corrected, waving the gun between me and Stiles. "I mean, Blake I understand. You can't morph into much worse than that, but what about you Stiles? What do you turn into?"

I could see the tick in Stiles's jaw before he opened his mouth, but luckily, he kept his voice even. "Abominable Snowman. But, uh, it's more of a wintertime thing? You know, seasonal."

Matt didn't like that answer. He jerked his head, and a moment later, Stiles was toppling to the ground on top of Derek. I scrambled to my feet, but Jackson's claws were already at my neck, stopping me from moving more than an inch.

"Nice try, Scarlett. Now get up and go stand by McCall."

I hesitated, but Jackson didn't seem in danger of slitting my throat just yet. Still cautious, I stood up, glared at Matt, and walked over to stand at Scott's side.

"Not exactly what I had in mind when you said you were gonna convince Stiles's dad," I grumbled, and he nodded.

"Yeah, me either."

"If the two of you don't stop talking, I'm gonna blow Stiles's brain in. One shot."

"Get him off me," Derek grunted from the floor, but Matt didn't seem perturbed.

"I don't know, Derek. I think you make a pretty good pair. And for Stiles—I mean, it'd be a favor, right? Anything's gotta be an upgrade from the Prissiest Bitch in Beacon Hills."

Derek released a low growl that would have had most people trembling in fear. "Say that again."

"Or what?" Matt snorted. "I don't know if you've noticed, man, but there's not much you can do right now. It must kinda suck, to have all that power taken away from you with just a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you're not used to feeling this helpless."

"Still got some teeth. Why don't you get down here a little closer, huh? Then we'll see who's helpless."

"Yeah, bitch," Stiles whimpered supportively.

Before Matt could retaliate, another car pulled into the parking lot, killing its engine just outside the front door. Matt readjusted his grip on the gun.