𝑾𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 ➸𝑨𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝑨𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕 ꟾ𝟏ꟾ

Ticking Time Bomb

[Majorly Edited]—5/22/21

I

My head leans against the front window of the Jeep, watching as an officer escorts a handcuffed Derek to his grey police cruiser a few hours after dawn. I begin to feel a headache growing, noticing his piercing gaze at Scott as he's placed in the backseat.

Scott pushes himself off of the grill of the Jeep and twists his head in my direction, though his eyes widen as his line of sight moves past me. I glance through the rear windshield to see Stiles strolling towards the cruiser. I pull the door handle down and hop out, crunching leaves with each step I make towards Scott.

"What the hell is he doing?"

He halts in front of the passenger door and glances at us, Scott shakes his head at him but he doesn't listen as he quickly ducks before lifting the car door and crawling inside.

"Oh, god." Scott spins around, leaning his left arm on the hood.

I rub my eyes. "That's it, we're dead."

"I can't watch."

My lips pinch into a firm line as I cross my arms, keeping my eyes adhered to the cruiser, however, I quickly avert my gaze as I catch Noah staring at me. He edges closer before stopping, noticing Stiles sitting in the car. He grits his teeth and yanks the door open, pulling Stiles out by the arm and dragging him a few feet away.

There's a lot of pointing and yelling before Stiles begins trudging towards us with a bowed head. "Let's go."

II

"I can't find anything about Wolfsbane being used for burial." Scott says, scrolling through the web as I lean on the window in the backseat, staring at the abundance of blurry trees passing us by.

"Well, keep looking. Maybe it's like a ritual or something. Like, they bury you as a wolf. Or maybe it's like a special skill, you know, like something you have to learn."

"I'll put it on my to-do list, right underneath figuring out how the hell I'm playing this game tonight."

"We're gonna help you as much as we can, Scott."

"Maybe it's different for girl werewolves—" Stiles blurts.

"Okay, Stiles, stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop saying werewolves. Stop enjoying this so much!"

I lean forward, grabbing on the back of Scott's seat. "Are you okay?"

He rubs his eyes as I notice the excessive amount of sweat building on his forehead. He starts blinking furiously. "No, I'm not. I'm so far from being okay!"

"You're going to have to accept this, Scott." Stiles says. "Sooner or later."

"I can't—"

"Well, you're gonna have to."

"No! I can't breathe. Ahh!" He lurches up suddenly as if a knife had just stabbed right into his spine and lifts his right arm, pushing it against the roof.

"Stiles. Stiles, pull over!" I shout, my head sticking out between their seats.

"Why? What's happening?"

He doubles over and grips Stiles' backpack, yanking it open. Inside is the Wolfsbane twine.

"You kept it?!" Scott seethes.

"What was I supposed to do with it?"

Scott scowls at Stiles with burning yellow orbs, causing me to flinch back. "Stop the car!"