Chapter 4 - Sympathy from the Devil

A howl echoed in the night and Stiles felt a shudder up his spine. He leaned as far out his window as he could. The Alpha was out; it was running, searching—probably- for Scott. He tucked his phone into the pocket of his red hoodie and went out the door. Time to deal with the Big Bad Alpha Wolf.

Stiles was in his car, following the howl. The Alpha was calling out to its kind, seeking pack. Stiles' hackles rose. Damned Alpha should get the hell out of his town. He had enough problems taking care of with Scott being a dumb ass and Derek being a Sourwolf. Stiles needed to care for them, protect them from themselves.
The night stretched out, Stiles found himself in the car park. Stiles ears played tricks on him. He could hear his own heavy breathing and thought it was the Alpha's. He turned every direction, fingering the blade he kept on him in his pocket. He pulled it up with his uninjured hand. Right as he got a hold he was thrown from his feet, his body thrown into the side of the nearest car. Which was… his poor jeep.

He turned fast as he could, his eyes locking of the Alpha as it transformed. The huge black beast melted into a middle aged man with glowing eyes. And the man tilted his head, smirking like Stiles was a puzzle to be taken apart.

"Boy who runs with wolves. You know those kinds of stories never turn out well for the human right, Stiles? It is Stiles, isn't it? Your friend Scott mewls it when frustrated often enough. Not very bright that one. Good thing he has a friend like you to help him," Peter Hale began to circle Stiles.

Stiles gulped once, his mind going frantic, looking everywhere he could to try to find an exit.

"Listen to that. Lub-dub, lub-dub," Peter tapped his hand over his own heart in imitation of Stiles speeding pulse. "You sound like a rabbit. Delicious."

Stiles scattered backward, his back slamming into the nearest car. Fuck! He needed to focus, stop panicking. He had to get his scent on the Alpha and now that Stiles knew what he looked like he'd be able to help find him. In a blink he was gasping as Peter's clawed hand dug into his throat. Well looks like he didn't need to worry about how his blood would be spilled.

"It's a wonder you've stayed alive so long Stiles. You smell like prey. You are so frightened, aren't you? And you are desperate to call out to anyone. I could open your phone, dial your little friend Scott and you wouldn't even be able to shout for help. It's horrible isn't it? To be helpless?"

Peter released Stiles' neck, watching with a concerned tilt of his head as the boy coughed violently and covered his throat with his hand. Stiles body slid down against the car, his feet unable to hold him. Peter crouched down right in front of him, his smile deceptively caring. "I know your pain, you know. Being trapped in a fault shell of a body that refuses to obey you. That refuses to do what you plead and demand it to do. I was trapped like that for so many years. Listening to the mewling of my nephew. Trying to break free. You want to break free of your disability don't you? I could give you that, Stiles. The Bite. Bring you into my fold. It will be transformative,"

This dude was a fucking psychopath. Stiles stared; shocked the dude was even able to come up with these things. What in the mind of this crazy ass dude told him that offering to make someone you attacked into a strong opponent was a good idea? Seriously! Stiles rolled his eyes at the speech.

"Shut up,"

Peter's mouth snapped shut.