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𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗 chapter sixteen
As Lydia wandered past the parking lot and toward the nearly pitch-black lacrosse field, a chill crept over her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She squinted into the darkness, her heart racing when she spotted a shadowy FIGURE moving in the distance. "Jackson?" she called out, urgency lacing her voice as she hurried forward. But as she drew closer, the figure slipped further into the inky blackness, leaving her feeling isolated and vulnerable.
Stumbling in her heels, Lydia found herself standing in the middle of the lacrosse field, gazing out into the abyss that surrounded her. "Jackson? Is that you?" Her voice trembled, but the only reply was silence.
Just as she began to feel the weight of her solitude, she sensed movement behind her. Someone was walking toward her, stepping out of the darkness with an eerie calmness that sent shivers down her spine. "Jackson?" Lydia whispered again, her heart pounding in her chest as the figure came into view. However, as he drew closer, dread washed over her—this was not Jackson.
Before she could react, a familiar voice rang out in the night. "Lydia!" Stiles was racing toward her, his face a mask of panic. "Run! Lydia, run!" His breathless urgency snapped her from her daze, but instead of fleeing, she turned back to face the approaching stranger, her eyes widening as she recognized Peter Hale. He advanced slowly, deliberately, and Lydia felt a magnetic pull toward him, despite the terror rising within her.
Then, in a horrifying instant, Peter's mouth stretched open unnaturally wide, monstrous fangs glistening as they emerged between his lips. Lydia's instincts kicked in too late; she screamed, the sound echoing across the empty field as she dropped to the grass, unconscious, her dress marred by streaks of blood. Stiles reached her side just as Peter lunged forward, his claws outstretched like a predator claiming its prey.
Stiles was frozen in shock, his heart racing as he stared at the blood dripping from Peter's jaws. "Don't kill her. Please," he pleaded, desperation lacing his voice.
"Of course," Peter said, his tone chillingly calm. "Just tell me how to find Derek."
"What?" Stiles stammered, confusion morphing into fear.
"Tell me how to find Derek Hale," Peter demanded, his eyes narrowing with predatory focus.
"I—I don't know that. How would I know?" Stiles' voice quivered, his mind racing to grasp the situation.
