Sage ▸ Stiles Stilinski [Book One]

15.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN; 15

        Scott was the one to bring the lacrosse team to state, and because of that, all of the praise was landed on him. People were screaming in his face about the victory, relieved that there was finally another player that knew how to play the sport that didn't have the last name Whittemore; Danny was accepting his apology, the boy having a bright heart that was rare in people these days; Allison was talking to him after the high school incident. Everything seemed as if it were good for once in his life since he was bitten. That is, of course, as long as you subtract a missing Stiles, Sage, and Derek— a small part of Scott believed they were all eaten by the Alpha — and the fact that Jackson Whittemore now wanted to become part canine, things were good. 

        Scott sighed and rubbed his eyes, starting to lift his deodorant up when the lights flickered off in the empty locker room. Immediately, out of the pure instinct that he had knowing darkness never meant security, his back arched in alertness. The werewolf's head whipped around, hair flying into his eyes when he heard a small bang as a lacrosse ball rolled on the floor, stopping when it hit one of the lockers.

        Cautiously, Scott took light footsteps over to where the showers were, his exhale getting caught in his throat as he realized there was anxiety building up in his chest at the very idea of something being there and jumping out at him. When the werewolf saw a familiar shaped figure standing in the darkness across from him, he was able to release the breath he was holding. Unlike the possibility of it being an actual murderer, it was only an alledged one. 

        "Where have you been? Do you have any idea what's been going on?" Scott shouted in Derek's face, his rage getting the better of him as he realized he had a lot of irritation towards the man for disappearing on him. 

        Derek didn't reply, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as his gaze moved past Scott's eyes to something hidden behind him. The attention behind directed around his shoulder was enough to turn him around, his body turning stiff when he saw a familiar blonde being held tightly in a man's arms. Sage looked absolutely horrific, like she'd just walked a mile after being hit by a car.  Her blonde hair was tangled and frizzy, clothes torn in certain areas while dark liquid stained the hoodie Scott realized belonged to Stiles. 

        Peter glanced down at the lacrosse stick he was holding in one arm, his lips curling in thought. "I never understood lacrosse."

        Sage didn't even bother moving, just tried to keep her stinging eyes on Scott instead of on the man behind him, knowing very well that if she even took a second glance at Derek then that betrayal would never be forgotten. The teenage girl had also been strictly warned by Peter that if she spoke he would, not so kindly, rip out her throat while Scott watched. Any thought of the man once caring about the blonde was discentagrated, and she was left exposed to everything.

        Scott swallowed the lump in his throat, realizing that all of the pieces in the playing field were beginning to fit together, and knew immediately why Peter Hale had become so important.  "It's you."

        "When I was in school we used to play basketball. There's a real sport," Peter explained, grinning as he looked down at the lacrosse stick. Sage was tempted to spit out that basketball got old in Beacon Hills when Luke tried out for lacrosse and stunned everyone into loving the sport, but she bit back the words. "Still, I read somewhere the lacrosse comes from Native American tribes and they played it to resolve conflict, if I read that right. I have a little conflict of my own, Scott, but I need your help to do it."