The Youngest (Teen Wolf) Rewritten

Chapter Five

3rd P.O.V

Kylie sat nestled in Stiles' arms as he slid into the front seat of the Sheriff's car, the creak of the door and the faint scent of worn leather filling the small space. The low murmur of police chatter crackled through the radio, adding to the tense atmosphere.

"Okay, just to let you know, I'm not afraid of you," Stiles said, the attempt at bravado faltering as his voice wavered slightly.

"Liar," Kylie chimed in, her small voice cutting through the tension with an innocent bluntness.

Derek, seated stiffly with his wrists cuffed, turned his head to glare at Stiles. A shadow of a smirk played on his lips, his eyes narrowing with a hint of amusement. He caught Kylie's gaze and gave a subtle wink, which made her giggle, a soft sound that felt oddly out of place in the suffocating silence.

"Okay, maybe I am," Stiles admitted, shifting uncomfortably as he glanced out the window at the swirling red and blue lights casting long, flickering shadows across the dim street. "Doesn't matter. I just wanna know something." He leaned forward, the leather seat creaking beneath him. "The girl you killed—she was a Werewolf, wasn't she? But different, right? She could turn herself into an actual wolf. I know Scott can't do that. Is that why you killed her?" His voice carried a mix of fear and desperation, each word sharper than the last.

Derek's expression darkened, his eyes glinting with a fierce intensity as he leaned closer, the space between them shrinking. The low hum of tension thrummed through the air like an electric current. "Why are you so afraid of me when it's your friend who's the real problem?" he countered, his voice deep and steady, each word precise and cutting. "When he shifts on the field, what do you think they're gonna do? Huh? Keep cheering him on? And if he shifts and Kylie's near him, she'll shift too." His gaze flickered to Kylie, softening briefly before hardening again as he turned back to Stiles. "I can't stop him from playing, but you can. And trust me, you'll want to."

The silence in the car was thick, punctuated only by the low rumble of distant voices and the rustle of leaves outside. Stiles's jaw tightened as the Sheriff yanked open the car door, breaking the tension like glass shattering. The cool night air rushed in, and Stiles felt a chill crawl up his spine as his father's firm grip pulled him out.

Kylie shifted to look at Derek one last time. A small, playful grin spread across her face, and she gave him a wave. Derek's stern expression cracked for a split second, his eyes softening as he chuckled under his breath. The moment passed quickly, and the dark intensity returned as the door slammed shut.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow," Stiles muttered as the Sheriff's hand tightened on his shoulder.

The Sheriff halted, his eyes narrowing into a sharp, questioning glare. "There, stand," he ordered, his voice deep and steady, carrying the kind of authority that left no room for argument. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Stiles shifted uncomfortably, adjusting Kylie in his arms. The little girl's wide eyes darted between the two, sensing the tension but remaining silent.

"I'm just trying to help," Stiles said, exasperation cracking through his words. His gaze met his father's, a mixture of determination and worry flickering there.

The Sheriff's frown deepened, lines creasing his forehead as he studied his son. Then his eyes fell to Kylie, her small hands gripping Stiles's jacket with a quiet sort of trust. He exhaled slowly, a sigh that spoke of long nights and unanswered questions.

"Give her to me," he said, his tone gentler but firm.

Stiles hesitated for a split second before carefully handing Kylie over. She settled easily in the Sheriff's arms, her small head resting against his shoulder. The weight of her tiny body seemed to ground him, tempering the sharp edges of his frustration.