Shattered Bonds

The Disappearance

It had started like any other typical night in Beacon Hills.

The air was crisp with a hint of autumn, the trees surrounding the woods just outside of town now beginning to lose their leaves. The smell of earth and pine hung in the air, and the distant sound of crickets filled the otherwise silent evening. Stiles Stilinski, leaning against his battered Jeep, pulled his jacket tighter around his frame, his breath coming out in little white puffs in the cool air. He stood at the edge of the woods, watching as Scott and the rest of the pack finished preparing for the hunt.

"Alright, let's get this over with," Stiles muttered to no one in particular, shifting his weight from foot to foot. It wasn't that he didn't want to help, it was just that the whole situation was... complicated. He wasn't exactly the most graceful in a fight-certainly not compared to Scott or Derek. He didn't have the werewolf powers that made them so effective in a battle. He was just... human. But that didn't make him any less determined to help.

Scott looked up from the map he was studying. His brows furrowed, concern written across his face. "You alright, man?"

"Yeah," Stiles replied, forcing a grin, though his stomach churned in an unsettling way. "Just the usual. You know, hoping nothing weird happens tonight. Typical Tuesday in Beacon Hills."

The woods were dangerous these days. The pack had been tracking a rogue wolf for weeks-a wolf whose scent kept changing, confusing their efforts. And tonight, the situation was even more tense. Something was wrong, and none of them could figure out exactly what. The fact that they hadn't found any real clues yet made the whole thing feel like a giant trap waiting to spring.

"I'm not so sure about that." Derek's voice cut through the tension. His normally gruff demeanor was even more serious than usual tonight. The darkness of the woods seemed to suit him, but even he was uneasy.

Stiles tried to make light of it. "Well, if a creepy wolf man is out there trying to eat us, then yeah, I think it's fair to say we've all got good reason to worry."

"I'll be fine," Scott said, glancing over at him, his eyes heavy with the weight of responsibility. "We'll all be fine. We've got this. Right, Stiles?"

Stiles just nodded, forcing himself to swallow down the anxiety tightening his chest. He couldn't help it. The woods felt wrong tonight. But if he said that out loud, it would only make Scott more worried-and frankly, Stiles didn't think he could bear to see that look of guilt on his best friend's face. So, instead, he said nothing. They moved forward into the forest, every crunch of a leaf beneath their boots louder than usual.

The cold air clung to Stiles as he trudged through the dense trees of the Beacon Hills forest, just a few paces behind Scott. The night had fallen earlier than usual, and the darkness seemed to thicken around them like something tangible. It felt as though the world had gone silent, a stillness that was too heavy to ignore. It was unsettling.

"How can something so big just disappear?" Stiles muttered, trying to break the silence. His voice sounded unnaturally loud against the backdrop of the forest. "One minute we're tracking, and the next, nothing. No scent, no tracks, no sign of anything. It's like-poof, gone. Supernatural hide-and-seek."

Scott glanced over his shoulder, half-smiling but it didn't reach his eyes. "We're getting closer, Stiles. Don't get distracted."

Stiles shot his best friend a look of mock offense. "I'm not distracted! Just-something doesn't feel right, okay? This doesn't make sense."

He was right. Nothing about the situation made sense. The rogue werewolf they were tracking had been active for weeks, attacking innocent people and leaving behind only broken bodies and shredded pieces of clothing. But now? Nothing. Not a trace of him. No fresh footprints, no scent trail. It was like he had just disappeared into thin air.

As they pressed forward, Stiles' heart began to race. His instincts were telling him something was off, something was wrong, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. And the fact that Scott, usually calm and confident, wasn't giving him any reassurances only heightened his unease.

Suddenly, the sound of a twig snapping in the distance froze both of them. Scott tensed, his head snapping toward the noise.

"You hear that?" Stiles asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand instinctively went to the knife at his belt, despite knowing it wouldn't do much against whatever supernatural threat they were facing.

Scott's eyes narrowed, his enhanced hearing picking up the faint rustle of something moving through the trees. "Yeah. Stay close."

Before Stiles could respond, something fast and powerful shot out of the shadows. A rope wrapped around Stiles' neck, pulling him off his feet in an instant. His breath caught in his throat as the world around him tilted. He gasped, struggling to break free, but his body betrayed him-his arms were too weak, his vision blurred as he tried to fight back.

"Stiles!" Scott shouted, lunging forward, but before he could reach his friend, a heavy weight slammed into him from the side, sending him crashing to the ground.

Stiles' pulse raced as his world spun. He fought for air, for focus, but the darkness began to creep in around the edges of his vision. The last thing he saw before everything went black was Scott's frantic face, reaching out toward him, screaming his name.