The Hellhound's Mate

Angie's Return - Part 5

When Angie turned up at the bank, her claws were already out. She'd been suspicious of Aiden's text, but came anyway, knowing that whatever awaited her inside wouldn't be able to stand against her, because even as she stood outside, she could already sense that Aiden wasn't there. She was surprised, however, when she approached the vault and saw Stiles standing before it, calm, eerily still as he waited.

"You set me up," she snarled, her voice low. "Aiden set me up."

"Unfortunately, Ange, you'll be thanking him for this. You won't make it out of here to act on your anger," he replied firmly. "Not this time. Because when you leave...you're going to be my sister again."

Angie roared at him, something vicious and cruel, her fangs bared and eyes red. "I don't have time for this. To waste on a human –"

"You won't leave," Stiles interrupted, stepping backward, back over the lip of the vault. "Because I know you. You're just like me—you're curious. You're the reason I'm like this. And I know you're going to follow that curiosity. You always do."

And he disappeared into the dark vault.

For a long, agonising moment, she stared at him, every instinct screaming to attack, to bolt, to distrust. Then, slowly, like a puzzle snapping into place, she moved forward, and into the bank vault.

Stiles waited, breathing slow, counting the seconds like a man holding his own heart in his hands. A few minutes stretched into eternity. Then she was fully inside. She was inside. She had believed him. Now he was going to make her mad.

He crouched, spilling the black power from his hand and completing the circle of mountain ash that lined the room.

Angie's eyes widened, fury rising, as the barrier sealed them inside. She lashed out, slamming her claws against the invisible wall, trying to tear through it.

"You can't keep me here!" she snarled, voice echoing against the vault walls.

"Not forever, but just for a while," Stiles said calmly, holding his ground.

Her rage snapped toward him, full and uncontrolled. "Then I'll kill you!"

"That's not going to happen either," Stiles replied, voice steady, almost affectionate, even as his chest pounded.

Chains shot out from the shadows, wrapping around her arms with precision. Scott and Derek appeared, their faces grim as they secured the restraints, holding her in place as she fought and thrashed. The sound of her rage—snarls, claws scraping, the hiss of frustration—filled the vault.

"Hold her!" Derek snapped.

"I'm not an alpha! I'm trying!" he snapped back.

Even as the boys tried to pull her arms back, Angie set her feet, her red eyes fixed on Stiles as her core burned and began pulling back.

"She's stronger than before!" Derek yelled, putting all his strength into it, and he was still struggling.

"Stiles, back-up plan!" Scott called urgently, and Angie watched as Stiles aimed a gun at her.

Her eyes widened in surprise before a surge of strength had Angie knocking both wolves off their feet, the chains slipping from her arms and clattering onto the ground. She took a step closer to him. "You're going to kill me?" she taunted, not believing it in the slightest.

"No," Stiles muttered, his voice shaky. "But I am going to shoot you."

And he pulled the trigger. Angie recoiled as the bullet pierced her shoulder and a purple mist flowed from the wound. "Wolfsbane," she murmured.