Twenty one

649 43 2
                                    

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.




-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-



Derek's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, frowning as he saw Scott's name flash across the screen.

He answered immediately. "Scott?"

"Derek, it's Stiles—he's missing."

Derek's stomach dropped. "What do you mean, missing?"

Scott's voice was tight with worry on the other end of the line. "He called me earlier. He sounded... wrong, like he wasn't in control. I think it's the Nogitsune. We're already searching, but I need your help."

Derek clenched his jaw. "Where was he last seen?"

"I don't know. He mentioned some kind of industrial place—he could hear pipes, dripping water, and wind. That's all I've got."

Derek nodded, already heading for the elevator. "I'll search the hospital."

☾☆☽

Derek moved silently through the hospital, his senses tuned to every faint sound and movement. Stiles had been here—that much he could tell. The faintest trace of his scent lingered in the halls, mingled with something sharper, darker.

He turned a corner and froze, inhaling deeply. The scent was strongest here, near the stairwell.

Scott and Isaac's voices carried faintly from down the hall as they approached.

"Derek," Scott called. "Anything?"

Derek straightened, his jaw tightening. "He's not here. Not anymore."

Scott frowned, glancing around. "You mean, the whole building?"

"Gone," Derek confirmed.

Isaac sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll go tell Stilinski."

Scott nodded. "And see if you can find Allison—she's not answering her phone."

As Isaac left, Derek turned to Scott. "Notice how strong the scent is up here?"

Scott tilted his head, inhaling deeply. "Yeah, but what does that mean?"

"Ever hear of chemo-signals?" Derek asked, his voice steady but quiet.

Scott shook his head.

"Chemical signals that communicate emotion. Just our sweat can give off anger, fear, or disgust. Take a deep breath and tell me what you feel."

Scott hesitated, focusing. "...Stress."

"And anxiety," Derek added. He stepped closer to the edge of the roof, scanning the space. "What was he doing up here?"

Scott shook his head again. "I don't know. But if he was stressed and anxious, it means—"

"There was some kind of struggle," Derek interrupted.

The Girl In The Coffin // D.HWhere stories live. Discover now