The Youngest (Teen Wolf) Rewritten

Prologue

Little three-year-old Kylie sat at the tiny table in her room, her fingers gripping a crayon as she scribbled colorful shapes across the paper. She had her mother's dark, wavy hair that tumbled down her back in soft curls, and wide, chocolate-brown eyes that sparkled with a mix of innocence and curiosity. Her small, heart-shaped face carried the same gentle expression as her mother's, with a hint of mischief that mirrored her older brother, Scott.

She wore soft, pastel-colored pajamas patterned with tiny stars and moons, cozy and slightly rumpled from play. Even at such a young age, there was a quiet determination in the way she concentrated on her drawing, her brows furrowing as if each line was part of an important mission.

"What are you drawing, Ky?" Scott asked as he stepped into her room, his smile playful, eyes bright with brotherly affection.

Kylie shrugged, her tiny shoulders lifting and falling as she continued to color. She didn't really know the answer herself.

"It's almost time for bed," Scott said, leaning against the doorframe with a mock-serious expression, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "You're not even supposed to still be up."

"I know," Kylie replied, her voice soft but with a hint of defiance as she glanced up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Then, a noise broke the quiet. Kylie's head lifted slowly, her wide eyes fixed on the wall as if she could see straight through it. She paused for a heartbeat before turning to Scott.

"There's someone out there," she said, a small frown creasing her brow.

Scott's playful demeanor shifted in an instant. Hisexpression hardened, and he pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. With practiced ease, he scooped his sister up, settling her securely on his hip before grabbing the baseball bat leaning by the door. Kylie remained unfazed, her curious eyes watching everything intently.

The teen moved down the stairs with careful steps, the floor creaking underfoot and the shadows stretching across the dimly lit hallway. The cool night air brushed against them as he pushed open the front door and stepped onto the porch. Without hesitation, he swung the bat and let out a battle cry.

"AAAAAAAAAH!" echoed back at him, but it came from an all-too-familiar voice.

"Stiles, what the hell are you doing?!" Scott shouted, the tension in his shoulders easing, a nervous laugh escaping as he lowered the bat. The night air, crisp and cool, surrounded them, rustling the trees in the yard. Kylie, perched securely on his hip, let out a bright giggle that seemed to break the tension.

"You didn't answer your phone!" Stiles replied, his hands still raised in mock surrender, his eyes wide and breathless from the scare.

Scott rolled his eyes, the adrenaline still buzzing in his veins. "Well, you scared Kylie," he said, shifting Kylie's weight as she squirmed slightly in his arms.

"Did not," Kylie interjected, her tone matter-of-fact.

Scott blinked, caught off guard by her boldness. He opened his mouth, then closed it, a frown creasing his brow. He glanced down at his sister, who was looking up at him with an expression that was almost amused. "Did too," he finally retorted, a hint of playful exasperation in his voice.

"Did not. You got scared," Kylie said, pointing an accusatory little finger at Scott.

"I—" Scott started, then stopped, narrowing his eyes at his sister. She met his gaze with an innocent grin, as if she had just won a secret game.

"Anyways, why do you have a bat?" Stiles asked, his eyes flicking to the worn handle of the bat still clutched in Scott's hand.

"I thought you were a predator," his friend said, raising an eyebrow, his tone laced with mock seriousness.