PLAYER | DEREK HALE

Co-Captain

I instructed Stiles to drive straight to the school. When we arrived, the place was eerily empty. Stiles suggested we split up to find Scott.

As I made my way towards the boys' locker room, Scott's scent hit me. Moving silently, I heard Scott's frantic voice.

"Thank God! Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea what's been going on?"

"Scott?" I called out.

I stepped inside and saw Scott wrapped in a towel, with Derek standing nearby, tension radiating between them.

"What's going on?" I asked. Before I could get an answer, Peter emerged from the shadows, and I froze.

"I really don't get lacrosse," Peter said nonchalantly. "When I was in high school, we played basketball... That's a real sport."

Scott and I exchanged worried glances, then turned to Derek.

"Still," Peter continued, "I read somewhere that lacrosse comes from Native American tribes and that they played it to resolve conflict. Do I have that right?" He smirked. "I have a little conflict of my own to resolve, Scott! But I need both of your help to do it."

Excuse me, I'm not helping him.

"We're not helping you kill people," Scott declared.

"Well, I don't want to kill all of them," Peter said, almost casually. "Just the responsible ones, and that doesn't have to include..." He looked to Derek for support.

"Allison," Derek said flatly.

I stared at Derek, shocked. "Are you serious? You're on his side?" I shouted.

"Are you forgetting the part where he killed your sister?" Scott yelled.

"It was a mistake," Derek said quietly.

"What?" Scott and I both exclaimed.

"It happens," Derek replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Scott, Jailee... I think you're getting the wrong impression of us," Peter interjected.

"No, just you," I snapped, then glared at Derek. "And maybe a little bit of Derek now!"

"We really just want to help you reach your full potential," Peter said, turning his gaze to me. "And Jailee, I don't think you have a choice."

"By killing my friends?" Scott retorted.

"Sometimes the people closest to you are the ones holding you back the most."

"They're holding me back from becoming a psychotic nut job like you," Scott shot back. "I'm okay with that."

Peter began to advance on Scott, his claws extending. "Maybe you could try and see things..." he said, his voice darkening, "from my perspective."

He grabbed Scott by the neck, his claws digging into the back of Scott's neck. Scott crumpled to the floor, and Peter walked away.

I rushed to Scott's side. "Scott! Breathe, just breathe," I urged, then turned a hateful gaze on Derek, who simply walked away.

What an ass! How could he trust Peter?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

We were cruising through the industrial district, Stiles behind the wheel and Scott in the backseat, scanning for Jackson. The twilight shadows made the area look even more desolate and foreboding.

"There he is," Scott said, pointing towards a conversation happening between Jackson and Mr. Argent.

"Yo," Scott called out.