RUNAWAY
[ BOOK THREE ] ✧
Evil never seemed to rest in Beacon Hills, so as soon as the Nogitsune issue had been dealt with, it was onto the next one; perhaps a deadlier one. Harper Verum and her supernatural friends find themselves on a hit list, lea...
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Harper sat in the passenger seat of the jeep, her teeth absentmindedly gritted behind her pursed lips. Other than the pat she had placed on Stiles' hand when she climbed back into the car, no exchanges had been made between the couple.
Silence hung in the air— and then smoke.
The brunette began to cough, noticing that it was coming up from by her legs in white wisps. It was outside the car too, obviously starting from the hood.
Stiles heaved coughs, slamming his hand down on the steering wheel as the smoke blocked their vision. He pulled up to the side of the road, both teenagers clambering out and coughing.
Stiles slammed the door shut behind him, his hand moving into a fist as he went straight to the back of the jeep, pulling out his kit for emergencies like this. Harper wiped her mouth from where she stood on the pavement, feeling sick from the fumes that had been suffocating them.
She watched as Stiles threw the kit onto the wet road and tossed the hood of the vehicle up, waving excess smoke away before picking the box back up and practically chucking it against his car. He opened it up, staring at whatever was inside for a few moments. In a sudden spur of rage, he flipped, grabbing the box and throwing it across the road.
Harper gulped. Her eyes softened, yet she still felt mad. Mad at Theo for lying. Mad at Scott for not believing them.
Stiles chucked the hood back down and went to the back of the car, pulling out the bloodied wrench that he had struck Donavon with. Before Harper could say anything, he went to throw it with the others- only to halt.
"Stiles?" She murmured, holding her arms in the cold.
He didn't reply. He stared down at the wrench for a moment longer and then threw it straight at the jeep. Harper gasped, her hands dropping from her sides as she watched the windshield smash, tiny shards of glass spraying everywhere.
"Stiles," the teenage girl repeated, this time firmer as she moved over to him, grabbing him gently by the arms and guiding him to the floor beside the jeep.
Stiles was panting, his hazel eyes no longer filled with tears but something worse. He didn't know what to think- his mind was a complete blur. Harper felt the same, although she couldn't imagine how much greater Stiles' scale was compared to hers.
His best friend thought he was a cold-blooded murderer.
She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, letting him lay his head on top of hers. She stroked the soaked material of his jumper, listening as he sniffled a little. Both had no idea how they were going to fix this, or if it could even be fixed.
As they sat there, drowning in silence, it began to grow tense. Stiles slowly lifted his head off of hers and she could feel the anger starting to pulse through his veins once again. Pursing her lips, she stared at him with soft eyes and reached her hand out, ready to push some relaxing energy into him.
