HOSTAGE
[ BOOK TWO ] ✧
WARNING: SMUT
Harper Verum's sophomore year had not turned out at all how she expected it to. In fact, everything changed last year. From relationships to psychotic alpha werewolves, a Kanima, and a creepy stalker, this year h...
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' sweet revenge '
"Please, just listen, Lydia," Harper groaned as she and Stiles practically chased behind her throughout the school, "tell her, Sti."
"You know, there's a temple in Calcutta where they used to sacrifice a child every day?" Stiles hissed, "that's every day a dead baby, Lydia, every day! Hey, you wanna know what today is? It's dead baby day. Oh, no, wait, that's every day, cause every day is dead baby day, yay!"
Lydia shook her head, not even bothering to turn around as she waltzed forward, her notepad tucked under her arm, "why are you two telling me this?"
"You know those Alpha twins? Aiden and Ethan? Scott's dealing with them," Harper explained with a short sigh.
Finally, this struck the strawberry blonde's interest, causing her to turn around. She squinted at them.
"You didn't know they were Alpha's, did you?" The Empath raised an eyebrow.
Lydia played it off, "oh, yeah," she carried on walking, "I knew about them."
Harper looked at her sceptically, but hurried to catch up with Lydia's pace. Stiles didn't catch Lydia's uncertainty and nodded.
"Okay, okay, good. So, look, here's what Harper and I are thinking," Stiles spoke, "we're thinking that the murders may be coming in threes. Ancient people love things in threes, right? So maybe first it's three virgins, and then maybe, I don't know, maybe it's three people who own little dogs."
Lydia stopped again, "I own a little dog."
Harper sighed, biting her lip as she looked at her best friend pleadingly.
"I am not getting rid of my dog!" Lydia huffed, turning around again.
"Oh, come on, Lyds! Give Prada to Deaton or something until it's safe again!" Harper begged.
"No!" The strawberry blonde cried before pointing at Stiles, "oh, and by the way, you cannot discern a pattern by a single data point, so stop trying."
"Okay, so I'm just supposed to wait around for somebody else to die, then?" Stiles flung his arms out frustrated, "I'm just supposed to sit there and watch them die? Just wait for them to wither up and die right in front of me?"
"Wither?" Lydia raised an eyebrow.
"You know what I mean," Stiles groaned, "die, in just a hideously awful, strangulating, head-bashed in, throat-cutting kind of way."
There was a silence between the three before Lydia spoke up again, "maybe it's not your job. You said it yourself. They were strangled with a garrotte. That's a human thing to do, so maybe just leave the figuring it out to someone human."
"You mean someone like my dad?"
Lydia closed her eyes, "no. I mean your dad, the sheriff!" She snapped before walking away.
