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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
─── LIFETIME OF NIGHTMARES!
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IT WAS NEARLY FOUR O'CLOCK, THE SHADES IN THE SKY BECOMING DARKER AS THE SUN SLOWLY PREPARED TO SET. The day's shadows stretched across the town as Stiles took a left turn, nearing the Beacon Hills preserve. He'd been driving around aimlessly since departing the school parking lot without a clue where they could take Derek. The only place that seemed logical was the old Hale house, charred in the woods. Orion sat behind him, keeping her distance from Derek's potentially bloodied body and focusing her attention on her phone, awaiting a response from Scott. She had asked him if he was anywhere close to finding the magicbullet, considering they'd left him almost an hour ago and had yet to respond to any of her texts. The youngest werewolf had one job, one that he was seemingly already failing at.
Orion's phone let out a ding, catching the attention of Stiles, who looked at her eagerly through the rearview mirror. Orion picked up her phone, sighing softly to her herself as she looked at Scott's message. No,need more time, was all he said after almost an hour of silence. She glanced up at Stiles through the mirror, seeing his hopeful expression. She didn't want to diminish it, but she had no choice. "He said he needs more time," she muttered, offering him an apologetic look.
Stiles let out a groan, shaking his head in exasperation as he murmured a string of swear words under his breath. From the corner of his eye, he could see Derek struggle to take off his leather jacket as the sweat continued pouring off of him. "Hey, try not to bleed out on my seats, okay? We're almost there," Stiles huffed out, his tone callous. Orion furrowed her brows at his words.
"Almost where?" Derek asked before Orion got the chance, wanting to know where the boy was taking him.
Stiles sighed. "Your house," he responded, almost as if it should've been obvious to the werewolf. While Orion was okay with his answer, Derek had a few issues with it.
