[BOOK THREE]
Sierra Page struggled with moving on. The events from earlier that winter were permanently engraved in her head and with the loss of Allison, she knew she wasn't the same girl she used to be. But that was okay. Because she still had Sti...
Stiles huffed, more than aggravated as he walked through the hospital. His hand kept his phone pressed against his ear, while he kept an eye out for his dad. The mechanic had called him with news regarding the jeep, but it isn't what Stiles wanted to hear. Whoever the man was, he was quickly growing on Stiles's last nerve.
"If the gas tank didn't rupture and nothing electrical was burned, how the hell did the fire start?" Stiles demanded. "Spontaneously combusted?" he echoed the response given, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. "Really, that's your answer?"
Stiles looked up just as Noah appeared fully in uniform. He snatched his son's phone and ended the call, questioning, "What're you doing here?"
"Dad, you gotta leave the body," Stiles immediately forgot about the jeep and grew serious. "Okay? Leave it and let whoever wants to take it, just take it. Trust me."
"I'm doing my job, Stiles," Noah replied, handing the cell back over and turning on his heel to go down a hallway.
The stubbornness in Stiles's genes made him follow his father without hesitation. "Yeah, you've been real busy," he remarked. "Arresting people you know are innocent."
Noah sighed, but didn't stop heading to the elevator. He had already gotten an earful from Jemma and Melissa. He didn't need it from his kid too. "Go home," he ordered. "Now."
Yet as the elevator doors opened and Noah stepped inside, Stiles remained by his side. His eyebrows raised expectantly, daring his dad to try and force him out.
Noah narrowed his eyes. "This isn't up for debate."
"Well, then I'm not leaving."
Noah caught sight of a nurse's badge as the doors closed, reminding him of a conversation from the earlier morning. He glanced at Stiles before casually saying, "You know, Clark mentioned something about, uh, key cards for the library."
Stiles shot him a confused look but didn't interrupt.
"Do you guys have after-hours access?" Noah asked.
A look of understanding washed over Stiles's face. "Yeah," he breathed out with a nod. "We do. I'd show you mine but I lost it a few weeks ago."
Noah studied him, but Stiles stared forward and remained outwardly calm. Inwardly, he couldn't help but curse at how easy it was to lie to his dad; from the year before Noah discovered the supernatural, Stiles had gotten a ton of practice. Now it was supposed to be different--there wasn't supposed to be any secrets between them. But there wasn't anything else Stiles could do.
Even more than Scott, Noah could not find out about Donovan.
When the doors opened again, it seemed Noah bought the lie. Since he knew Stiles wouldn't leave, he told his son to at least stay on the upper floors. Deputies covered every doorway that led to the morgue and if something went wrong, Noah didn't want Stiles in the crossfire.
Stiles forced a smile of assurance and then headed back upstairs. Only then did he freak out.
He felt his library card burning a hole in his pocket with every step he took. Guilt ate at his insides and he felt like he was minutes away from throwing up. He tried to sit, to calm his nerves, yet it didn't work.
His palms rubbed against his jeans. He couldn't take it anymore.
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