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𝗦𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 chapter eighteen
The group moves in tense silence as they approach the ruined remains of the Hale House, its charred wood and rotted beams casting an ominous shadow beneath the night sky. Yellow police tape flutters faintly in the breeze, stretched across the broken windows and door like a ghostly warning. Celeste, Scott, Allison, and Stiles stop short, taking in the skeletal structure that still holds remnants of what once was.
Stiles breaks the silence, his voice laced with unease. "She came here? You're sure?"
Scott nods, his brow furrowing as he sniffs the air. "This is where her scent leads."
"But... has Lydia ever even been here?" Stiles asks, doubt and worry flickering across his face.
Allison shakes her head. "Not with me," she says softly, glancing at Celeste, who gives a small nod.
"Not with me either."
Celeste watches Scott, her curiosity growing as she senses something primal about Lydia's supposed presence here. "Maybe she was drawn here on instinct," Allison suggests. "Like she's looking for Derek."
Scott looks thoughtful, though there's a touch of wariness in his eyes. "Or an Alpha," he murmurs. "Wolves... they need a pack."
Allison looks back at him, intrigued. "Would she be drawn to an Alpha? Is that an instinct, to join a pack?"
Scott sighs, hesitating before he nods. "We're stronger in a pack. Faster, better... literally in every way."
Stiles rolls his eyes. "So... you're basically the wolf version of the Avengers."
But before they can go further, Stiles freezes, squinting down at the ground. "Hey, look at this. You see that?" He points to a thin wire stretched between two trees.
Stiles squats, gingerly pulling on the wire, triggering the mechanism with a hesitant pull. Suddenly, there's a loud whirring sound as something sharp slices through the air. Celeste barely manages to duck, the blade missing her by inches. Behind her, Scott is suddenly yanked off his feet, suspended in midair with a surprised yelp.
Scott glares at Stiles, trying not to look entirely annoyed. "Next time you see a tripwire? Don't trip it."
"Noted," Stiles mutters sheepishly, moving to help him down when Scott suddenly tenses, his senses on high alert.
