Rekindle The Flame || Stilinski || Book Four || WATTY's 2022

Thirty-Three

IN ORDER TO SOLVE CRIME, STILES HAD A METHOD.

To some, it made logical sense. Displaying all the information on one board instead of keeping all thoughts buried. Others claimed having multiple theories, papers taped on top of each other looked insane and disorganized.

However, using a crime board is something Stiles learned to do from watching his father at the police station and implemented the idea every time another supernatural force attacked Beacon Hills. Having the ghost riders show up didn't make a difference.

Stiles simply pulled out his basket of yarn and colored tape, and got to work. In one corner, he began with the Wild Hunt. The original myths compared to what his friends fought connected to who they had attacked already--including the kids from the bunker.

After that was done, he moved to the center for the most important information. Everything he knew about Sierra. He tore out the dreams he had recorded in his journal and taped them beside the photos Lydia gave him. One with Sierra and one without. He also added his suspicions about Michael and Claudia with a red marker, drawing multiple question marks.

Then, off to the side, he added the history of empaths and how their powers worked in connecting to people. At that point, his tape ran out so he turned to his basket of multi-colored string. Since the case was unsolved, he went to grab the red.

However, the second he touched the string, Stiles quickly jerked his hand back. It felt like an electric burst, sparking a quick energy through his fingers and dissipating in seconds.

He stared at the string, bewildered, before slowly reaching towards it again. This time, nothing happened. A sigh of relief escaped him and he picked it up to get back to work.

"It signifies the string of fate."

Stiles froze, his arm raised halfway towards his crime board. His head turned to the left, hearing the familiar female voice echo through his ears just above a whisper.

"Some people believe that two people can be connected by a red string that can twist and tangle, but never break. Kind of like an emotional tether, I guess."

His whiskey eyes fell to the string in his hands, his brows furrowing together. "The string of fate," he mumbled, fumbling with the yarn. "Connections." Stiles then took a breath and entwined pins of string from the empath research back to the paper covered in the word to create Sierra's name.

His room fell silent, the voice he always heard fading. Stiles swallowed hard and continued to write out his theories about what happened with the ghost riders. He wondered if Sierra used to help him, maybe offer points he never noticed himself. He didn't want to admit how sad he became at this, a frown tugging his lips down.

The depressing thoughts just made him work harder. His hand even began to cramp, causing him to take his watch off and set it on his dresser. But before he turned back to the crime board, he paused.

There was some kind of material stuck up through the top drawer. Stiles opened it, pressing the pairs of socks down to fix it. His head tilted when his hand brushed over some sort of paper. He pulled it out, unfolding the crinkles.

A receipt.

"A jewelry store?" he muttered, seeing the name of a shop downtown. He opened his drawer further and pushed his socks aside to see if there was anything with the receipt. A small box revealed itself, tucked in the corner.

Stiles grabbed it without hesitation and opened the velvet lid. He noticed the chain first, lifting it up to show a ring. The metal was decorated with intricate flowers and in place of a diamond, there was one cursive letter carved instead.