Still ▸ Teen Wolf [Book Two]

nineteen ; person of interest

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NINETEEN;

PERSON OF INTEREST

Scott had been the first one outside of the hospital, his mind rushing with scenarios and possibilities as to what could have happened to Danny back inside apart from the obvious collapsed lung. The teenage boy shouldn't have been throwing up mistletoe. He was also concerned about the growing realization that his mother might have to handle all of those people, managing and taking care of them so that they would actually continue living.

It was too hectic.

He needed to take a step back, take a deep breath, and actually think about all that has happened to him in the past few days. There wasn't much he could remember though, all of it was whirled into a blur that mushed together. The night at the motel, the flares, the sacrifices, each and every small piece was scattered around in his head.

"I know you're not going to believe me, but I didn't do anything."

The werewolf's back arched at the voice and he glanced over to see that Ethan was coming out of the hospital, hands raised high as a sign of surrender. Scott couldn't help but think the twin was lying, only for the very reason that not a single true thing has come from his mouth so far. Or, at the very least, a humane one.

He didn't see why Ethan would change all of a sudden, why any of them would.

Scott frowned deeply, staring at the alpha. "All I know is that the minute that you got here, you went right for Danny and your brother went for Sage."

"We're not going to hurt them," Ethan denied, shaking his head once as if the thought of harming either was an absolute atrocity itself.

"Why should I believe you?"

Ethan didn't waste a second before answering, already plenty aware that what he was admitting could very well change all of the cards. His mouth should have stayed shut, he should have gone on with his night, but the words slipped easily.

"Because we knew one of them was going to be important to you, and now we know it's Sage."

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Sage Connelly was a walking bomb.

Sage Connelly also knew she was a walking bomb. Ever since she saw the hooded figure through the flames at the motel, she was putting pieces together here and there about what might be happening to her. She knew enough about mistletoe to know that it is most commonly used by druids, her mother being a prime example of that.

It didn't take long for her to reach the conclusion that whoever, or whatever, the Darach was wanted her dead. Not many people walked around claiming to be dark druids, sacrificing people left and right like it was no big deal. No, it definitely didn't take long for her to conclude that the Darach wanted Sage dead.

What did take a long time to conclude was how she felt about it.

A part of her, whatever small or large part that might be, didn't know how to feel about dying. It might have been better, she supposed, to die by someone else's hand rather than her own. Maybe it wouldn't hurt the surrounding victims as horrifically if she died differently. The conflict in her mind was enough to drive her insane, a resident evil evolving inside of her ever since Glen Capri.

The blonde lifted her head up, hands tightly gripping the sink in the bathroom of the loft. She didn't know how long she had been in there, possibly hours just splashing water on her face as if it would take away the tears and the blood stains. It could have been minutes, though, and she was exaggerating her thoughts just like always.