The Best Friend (Teen Wolf)

Chapter Five

"Hey," Lydia smiles, leaning against the locker next to mine. I nod and tap the edge of rust lining my locker.

"Hi," my lips twitch into a smile. I take out my Civics textbook and switch it out for my Biotech notebook. I shut my locker and turn to Lydia. "What's up?"

"We found another coyote. We think she might be like you," she glances down the hall and lowers her voice, "her name is Malia Tate and Scott will want you to talk to her."

"What?" My eyebrows furrow and I throw my backpack over my shoulder. "Lydia, you do realize that I just found out that I'm... you know. I am not at the stage where I can--"

"Hey," Scott sighs. He's practically panting behind me.

I immediately tense, tightening my grip on my backpack strap. I hear the soft tearing of cloth, but I don't look down.

"What do you want, Scott?" I grit out through clenched teeth.

"Can I talk to you, Emma?" He lowers his voice as if Lydia would give a rat's a**. Relax. I shake my head and throw my backpack higher up my shoulder.

"I'm not doing it, Scott," I snarl, sending him a vicious glare. I storm off to first period before I could do anything irrational.

It takes less than a minute to reach English and thankfully it's still empty. I slowly release my grip on my backpack and look down to see half of the cloth hanging from the strap. A large claw mark tears across the material.

I flex my hand and focus on controlling the coyote.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

The pack ambushes me at the door.

I planned on racing to my next class without confronting any of them, but apparently I took a moment too long shoving my crap into my backpack.

After they blocked my exit, they forced me to follow them outside.

"Why won't you help us?" Scott asks, tilting his head to the side and staring at me. I feel my anger rising so I quickly press my fingernails into the palms of my hands.

"Because I don't want to," I reply, glaring at the brunet. Stiles steps forward and looks like he's going to put a hand on my shoulder. I send him a warning look and he quickly pulls back. My fingernails grow into claws and blood starts pooling around my fingers.

"Emma, you're a werecoyote. Malia's a werecoyote. If you could try just communicating with her so--" Stiles starts, already making dramatic hand gestures.

"God shut up!" I snarl, releasing my hands and wiping the blood off on my jeans. "You want to know why, Stilinski?!"

He hesitates, taking a step back into Scott.

I bring my hands up to my head and dig my fingers into my scalp. I feel my eyes flash blue. "When I was a coyote I felt like killing everyone. I wanted to rip apart someone's jugular and lap up their warm blood. I wanted to dig my claws into someone's stomach and break every bone in their body as I ate their flesh. And the only reason why I didn't was because I was facing someone who could knock me out. What happens if I'm a coyote around you or Lydia?!"

"I'll be there to stop you before that happens," Scott interjects.

"I was a monster when I was a coyote, oh-great-Alpha. Even if you managed to control me, who's to say that Malia doesn't feel the same way I did?"

I slam my fist into the nearest wall and, as the debris crumbles onto the ground, sprint towards the woods.

Heat ripples through me and soon the familiar ache of my bones reconfiguring surges through my body.

Within seconds, I am on four paws and dodging the trees and underbrush. I ignore my thoughts  and let my coyote side take control. 

I feel my muscles relax and I breathe in the heady scent of pine, rust, and... dew? The scent is fresh, like the morning air after a rainstorm, but also suppressed, like my nose is stuck inside a building.  

I veer right and chase the smell, even as my paws start to ache and a heavy drowsiness starts to push me down. 

About fifteen feet away from the scent, a pair of metallic jaws snap into my leg and and send me tumbling into the dirt. 

I whine as I struggle to escape from the trap, jerking my leg away from the metal and wincing as a fresh wave of blood rushes down my leg. I look down and notice a puddle of blood soaking into the dirt. Breathe.

I jump forward -- well, as far as I can get with the bear trap digging into my leg -- and make it maybe one or two feet from my original spot. But as soon as I land, white hot pain flares up my side and I have to squeeze my eyes shut and clench my jaw shut to suppress a cry. 

After a few moments of agony, I finally peel my eyes open and look down at where the pain is the greatest. 

Attached to my trembling side is another set of metal jaws. Whenever I shift to the side or even so much as twitch, the metal teeth dig deeper into my body and set off a flash of intense pain. 

With what little energy I have, I open my jaw and howl into the warm air until my throat is sore. 

I collapse onto the ground and feel a new heaviness weigh on me. Black spots start filling my vision and my body weakens, but right before I fall unconscious, I notice a pair of glowing blue eyes looking back at me.