Becoming A True Alpha (Teen Wolf)

Chapter 7: A Missing Bullet

Chapter 7

"I don't care if she was hit by a god damn car. It doesn't make up for the fact that she's working with Deucalion now." Derek's voice stirs me from the thick haze of unconsciousness.

Scott sighs, preparing to make a rebuttal, "Derek, this is Lucy we are talking about. I couldn't just leave her passed out in some alley."

There comes a loud bang as someone slams their fist down on a wooden surface.

"That thing over there is not Lucy. It's a girl too far gone to be saved. A girl that let her demons get the best of her." Derek's voice continues to escalate.

I lay sprawled across a flat, but comfortable surface. My hair had been brushed to the side and the weight of a bandage bares down on the side of my head, covering the deep gash. Without opening my eyes, I run my fingers along the leather surface of what I presume is a couch.

"I knew- I just knew you would do this. Do you really think I wanted to bring her here with the others still recovering? I had no other choice. I couldn't risk my mom's safety and I wasn't about to hand her back over to her father."

Derek stays silent, considering Scott's side of the argument. Then he speaks, "What about Stiles?"

My ears perk up at the mention of his name.

"They didn't leave on the greatest terms. Besides, forgiveness isn't exactly in Stiles vocabulary when it comes to Lucy. He might never forgive her for what she did." Scott says and a pang of guilt washes over me.

"He doesn't have to forgive her. As long as she stays at his house and not mine, I could care less about who Stiles holds grudges against."

"Stiles wasn't home when I called. He's helping Lydia with something."

A feeling much too close to jealousy overpowers my brewing guilt.

The vague answer brings an uncomfortable silence to the room and Derek taps his foot nervously against the cement floor.

Cracking opening my eyes, I twist my head to get a better look at the surrounding area. The sudden movement causes a sharp pain to shoot down my temple and a groan bubbles up from my throat.

The sound draws the two boys attention towards me.

Witnessing Derek's piercing stare bore into me, I desperately want to squeeze my eyes shut and hope for unconsciousness to return. But with a throbbing pain in the side of my head and nowhere to run, I might as well be back in the alley.

I let out a small wince as I lift my head from the plush cushions. Back upright, I let my legs dangle over the edge of the couch. The sudden movement causes the nausea to rise from the pit of my stomach and Scott- seeing my features green with oncoming sickness- rushes to my side with a trash bin. I lurch forward and throw up the contents of my stomach until nothing but a hollow feeling is left.

When the nausea finally passes, I pull myself away from the bucket and wipe a bead of sweat from the surface of my clammy forehead.

"What is wrong with her?" Derek asks, dropping the bitter edge to his voice.

Scott maneuvers around the trash bin and plops himself down beside me on the couch. I am much too busy with my head in between my knees to see the expression on his face, but I fear the sympathy had worn off. Then a comforting hand rests on the small of my back and the guilt returns.

Whatever had attacked my immune system in the alley had not only weakened me, but brought back emotions I had been pushing away for weeks. I feel as if I'm reliving the night of my first full moon. Too many emotions flooding in at once and it is making me sick to my stomach. A churning rollercoaster ride that doesn't seem to be ending anytime soon.