Olivia McCall, every year she used to visit her cousin, Scott McCall in Beacon Hills.
But after a tragic accident, she hasn't went back in years. At 16 years old, she decides to live with him but her plans spiral upside down when Scott was bitten b...
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Someone shook me awake as I groaned in annoyance. I swatted my hand around, hoping to whack the person away. When I heard the sound of skin meeting skin and an audible snort, my eyes shot open and I sat up to see Derek glaring at me.
"Oops," I smiled sheepishly. Derek stalked away with a death glare and I got out of the jeep and walked to the back entrance of the animal clinic.
How was it that you were almost dying but still had the energy to glare at everything?
Stiles slid open the metal slider thing and flicked on the light switch. Derek collapsed onto a sack plastic bags and panted.
"Does Nordic blue monkshood mean anything to you?" Stiles asked, clutching his phone.
"It's a rare form of wolfsbane. He has to bring me the bullet?" Derek replied.
"Why?" I asked. I scanned Derek's face and took note of the sweat and bloodshot eyes. If I didn't know about the supernatural, I would've guessed he was on some crazy illegal drug.
"Because I'm gonna die without it." He answered.
I sucked in a breath and nodded quickly, I went to wrap an arm around Derek's waist and Stiles did the same. He slung his arms over our shoulders and we lead him inside.
"You know, that really doesn't look like some echinacea and some goods nights sleep wouldn't fix." Stiles commented.
"If the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me." Derek said and went to search the cupboards behind him.
"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?"
"Obviously, it's Derek freaking Hale we're talking about." I muttered. Clearly, I forgot that werewolves had super hearing and no one had intended to hear that.
Stiles did a little side smirk that had my knees weak for a second. God, if only he knew.
"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time, last resort..." Derek trailed off.
"Which is?" Stiles asked. The dying wolf opened one last draw and slowly turned around with a tiny saw thingy in his hand.
"You cut off my arm." Derek replied. I looked at Stiles who had his eyes wide open and I knew for a fact that he gets queasy around blood.
"I'm not sure how to feel about that." I eyed at the weapon warily, both males in the room looked at me and clearly wanted to say 'Leave the premises, you're not helpful whatsoever.'
Stiles picked it up and turned it on for a second before quickly switching it off, letting the saw hit the table. Derek had begun tying blue fabric around his arm where the veins disappeared from sight.
"Oh my God! What if you bleed to death?" Stiles asked nervously. To be honest, I wouldn't mind that happening but it was also make me a very terrible person.
