Even though we were being herded around the school by a murderous werewolf out for revenge, I still felt a little weird being in the boys' locker room. Empty and dark, it still seemed to hold the impression of all the jock guys I was friends with. It would have been comforting if I didn't feel like I was intruding, but I was outnumbered two to one by males, so we'd ducked into the boys' locker room instead of the girls'. I wrinkled my nose, willing myself to breathe through the mouth, lest I suffocate in the stench of sweat and overwhelming body spray.

"Call your dad," Scott instructed as we reached the center of the room.

"And tell him what?" Stiles asked, one of his hands still linked with mine.

"I don't know, anything! That there's a gas leak, a fire, whatever. If that thing sees the parking lot filled with cop cars, it'll take off."

"And what if it doesn't?" Stiles challenged. "What if it goes completely Terminator and kills every cop in sight? Including my dad?"

"They have guns!"

"Yeah, and Derek had to be shot with a wolfsbane-laced bullet to even slow him down! You remember that?"

I bit my lip, another terrible idea forming in my head. "We could call Allison…"

"What?!" Scott rounded on me in horror. "Are you joking?! No!"

"Look, if—if we tell Allison we're in trouble, she can talk to her dad," I reasoned, "and—and then her dad can come and kill the Alpha! I mean, Derek's gone, you look like a victim—"

"And what if she comes with him?!"

"He won't let her. The Argents are like, trained for this stuff, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Stiles said gravely, "and they're also like super suspicious and super, extremely lethal. What's Mr. Argent gonna think when he finds out we broke into the school for no reason and finds Derek's car in the parking lot? We'd pretty much be hanging a sign around Scott's neck that says, uh, 'Hey, look at me! I'm a suspect!'"

"We're not calling Allison," Scott said resolutely. "We just…we have to…we have to find a way out and just run for it."

But Stiles shot that down too. "There's nothing near the school for at least a mile."

"What about Derek's car?" Scott suggested.

"T-that could work," Stiles agreed, lighting up at the first not-terrible idea we'd had all day. "We go outside, we take the keys off his body—ugh—and then we take his car!"

"And Derek," I said resolutely.

"Fine," Stiles agreed in exasperation. "Whatever."

He turned our party around once more, leading us to the exit. He was reaching for the handle when Scott's hand shot out, grabbing him by the wrist. He was wearing the same sort of concentrated expression Derek had worn, right before the Alpha showed up. I checked behind us, just in case.

"What?" Stiles asked.

"I think I heard something," Scott whispered nervously.

"Like what?!

"Sh! Quiet!"

I felt Stiles's hand tighten around mine as we slowly edged away from the door. Scott turned the flashlight off, staring steadily at the exit. He must have heard something, because he turned to Stiles and me with wide eyes.

"Hide."

We didn't need to be told twice. We scrambled back down the row of lockers, frantically looking for shelter, but the locker room didn't offer a lot of hiding places. I was about to run to Finstock's office when Stiles yanked me back, opening a locker and trying to push me inside.

"Hey!" I protested, wrenching my hand away from him.

"Go!" he ordered. "I'll be right next to you!"

He promptly stuffed himself into the adjoining locker and closed the door. I turned to Scott for support, only to find that he too was squeezing himself into a locker. I turned back to mine, giving the inside a withering look.

"Gross," I moaned, before grudgingly stepping inside.

If I thought the smell in the open locker room was bad, the scent of the single locker I was occupying was like death. I shifted around uncomfortably, trying to stay away from the door and avoid touching the walls at the same time. I could only pray I hadn't been stuffed inside the locker of someone I knew. Danny's would probably smell better, but when the smirking face of Dylan Peters flashed through my mind, I actually gagged.

The door to the locker room opened and I clapped a hand over my mouth. I held my breath as a shadow swept past us. I almost relaxed, until I remembered that werewolves could hear heartbeats. I might be able to hold my breath, but I couldn't silence my pulse.

Someone screamed. I squeaked into my hand, flushed with terror until my brain caught up. It wasn't Scott or Stiles, and it certainly didn't sound like a werewolf. I hear the locker next to me open and fumbled to get out myself. When I finally tripped out onto the tile, I found Scott and Stiles trying to silence a very irate janitor, who looked about to have a heart attack.

"Quiet my ass!" he yelled, one hand clutching his chest and he glared between the three of us. "What the hell are you trying to do, kill me?! All of you, get out!"

"Just—just listen for half a second, okay?" Stiles pleaded.

"Not okay! Look, just take your girlfriend and get the hell out of here right now!"

Stiles looked over at me with wide eyes, which gave the janitor his opportunity to shove us out the door. We spilled into the hallway, crashing into one another.

"Please, sir," I babbled, "if you—please, just give us once chance to explain—if you—"

"Just shut up and go," the janitor demanded. Then suddenly, he wasn't there anymore.

I shrieked as the janitor's body was ripped back with a roar, the door to the locker room slamming shut. His screams echoed through the hall, and we could only watch the silhouette of his body as it was repeatedly smashed into the door, blood spattering against the frosted glass. Scott jumped forward to help just as I leapt back, bumping into Stiles's chest. Scott could rattle the handle all he wanted, but given the amount of blood that was dripping down the window, he was already as good as dead.

"Scott!"

Stiles grabbed my hand just as I grabbed Scott's, and together we managed to pry him away. There was a terrifying crash behind us, but none of us stopped to look back, literally running for our lives. We sped like a train, each of my hands holding one of the boys, until we reached the nearest exit. We slammed into the doors at full speed practically bounced back when they didn't budge. I grabbed my shoulder in pain, but Scott and Stiles were still pushing.

"What the hell?!" Scott gasped as he rattled the door.

I wound up for a kick, and Stiles yelped as my foot slamming into the metal an inch from his hand. The door barely rocked out, sending another shooting pain up my leg this time. Scott managed to swing the door open a few inches, enough to stick his face out and investigate the problem.

"It's a dumpster."

"A dumpster?!" I demanded, staggering back a few steps.

Stiles turned back to me with a dawning look of horror. "He pushed it in front of the door…to block us in…"

The realization only seemed to spur him on, and he slammed himself against the door with renewed vigor. I watched him smash himself repeatedly into the metal, wincing with every impact, my brain replaying the janitor's death at the same time.

"Stiles! Stiles, stop!" I pleaded, dragging him away from the door. "We've got to find another way. You're gonna hurt yourself."

Stiles was breathing heavily, his eyes unfocused. This time it was me who grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently as I eased him down the hall. I looked back to Scott and nodded, gesturing for him to lead the way.

"Come on," Scott urged, and forged a path back to the main office.

"I'm not dying here," Stiles chanted as we walked. "I'm not dying at school!"

"We're not going to die!"

"Then what is it doing?" I asked, peeking cautiously out the windows. "It could have killed us plenty of times, so what does it want?"

"Me!" Scott yelled in distressed. "Derek says it's stronger with a pack."

"Oh, great," Stiles said sarcastically. "A psychotic werewolf who's into teamwork. That's—that's beautiful."

My lips twitched into a fleeting smile. It was good to know at least one of us still had our humor.

Scott's arm flew out across my chest again, extinguishing the thought.

"What is it?" I asked urgently. I followed his eyes out the window again, spotting the dark shape on the roof opposite us, red eyes glowing against the night sky. "Oh you've gotta be—okay, go! Go, go, go!"

I shoved the boys back the way we'd come, ushering them away from the window and then outstripping both of them as I broke into a sprint. I heard the window smash behind us, the deep growl and the snapping jaws, but I just kept running, the pounding feet behind me assuring me that Scott and Stiles were still on my tail. Making a snap decision, I burst through a door on my right, speeding down a set of stairs and jumping over the second half of the flight completely. I held the door open, letting Stiles and Scott fly past me before running through myself.

We were now in the lowest level of the school, a place I'd never seen before. Judging by the broken lights and abandoned equipment, I was pretty sure we were never supposed to see it either.

"Come on," Stiles urged, taking the lead and running to the right.

Scott and I tore after him into an even darker, dirtier storage room, filled with rows of rusting lockers. I sighed internally. As if the night needed to be any creepier.

Stiles ran left and disappeared behind the last row of lockers. Scott disappeared after him, grabbing me when I made it to the end and passing me to Stiles, who pushed me into the lockers to his left. I sagged back against the metal, trying to regain my breath as quietly as I possibly could.

Scott peered around the edge of the lockers and quickly jerked his head back. He and Stiles mouthed mutely to each other for a few seconds, until Stiles batted my shoulder, gesturing for me to lead the way farther down the row. I only made it a few steps until there was another growl, and Stiles yanked me right back. I spun on the spot, one hand on my head as I wracked my brains for some kind of escape.

"Alright, we have to do something," Stiles gasped, eyeing the closest door in fear.

"Like what?" Scott hissed, dragging us both even further from the noises.

"I don't know! Kill it, hurt it, inflict mental anguish on it, something!"

A crash ahead of us made me jump back, and I knocked into an open door. I glanced inside, only to find and even smaller, more cramped room. Not especially helpful. Of course, cornering ourselves in the basement didn't leave us with a lot of options.

I did a double take, looking back into the room as a risky plan formed in my mind.

"Okay," I breathed, more to myself than anyone else.

As the sounds grew closer, I pushed the boys back, forcing them into the small, dead end hallway and hiding behind the door. I held a finger over my lips, which earned me a truly exasperated look from Stiles—as if he was going to make any noise—and a nod from Scott. I took a deep breath, clamped my hand over Stiles's mouth, and then backed him into the closest wall.

I tried to ignore the way his eyebrows shot up when his back hit the concrete, the way his eyes bulged as I stepped closer, the way he attempted to gasp under my palm as I slipped my right hand into his right pants pocket. Ever so carefully, both to avoid detection and making the situation any more awkward than it needed to be, I pulled the Jeep keys from his pocket. They jingled slightly as I moved to the door, making me freeze and wince. Somewhere behind me, Scott was pleading under his breath, grabbing at my sweatshirt and trying to tug me back. With one more deep breath, I chucked the keys around the door and into the enclosed space.

The effect was immediate. I ducked behind the door, and a fraction of a second later, a roar shook the entire floor. I heard the Alpha's paws and claws pounding on the ground, pouncing into the room where he thought we were hiding. I slammed my shoulder against the door, slamming it shut with the beast still inside.

"Move the desk!" I ordered in a shrill voice, pressing my back to the door. "Move the desk!"

Scott sprang into action, leaping behind the spare desk in the corner and shoving it toward me. In a matter of seconds, we rotated, slammed one end against the door, and jumped back, praying it would be enough. The Alpha slammed against the door, and I watched in terror as the desk jolted back, ramming into the opposite wall. I panted, turning to Scott with a trembling but victorious smile.

"He can't…" Scott stared at the door, then back at me, completely in shock. "You—you did it!"

"Yeah," I breathed. My whole body was shaking, but for now, the door seemed to be staying shut, even as the creature bounced off the walls inside.

"Hey, Stiles?" Scott panted.

I looked across the desk to find Stiles, still pressed against the wall where I'd left him, blinking furiously with his mouth agape.

"Gah?" he asked, still in a trance.

Scott grinned. "Thanks for telling Sadie about werewolves."

"Wh—Sadie?" Stiles looked around, spotting me on the other side of the desk, then looking down and up to the rattling door, bloodthirsty werewolf behind it. "Yeah…werewolves…Sadie…you're welcome…"

I let out another breathy laugh, glancing at the door. "Okay, that's not gonna hold it forever. We gotta get out of here. Climb across."

"What?!" Scott asked in a panic.

I waved him over agitatedly, and he glanced back at the door. He passed the flashlight to Stiles and took a deep breath before launching himself over the desk. I steadied him when he tripped on my side, and then waved to Stiles.

"Come on, move! We gotta go!"

But Stiles wasn't in as much of a hurry to leave as Scott and me. He eyed the door with curiosity, climbing up onto the desk and perching himself there, where he could stare through the window at the creature on the other side.

"Stiles!"

"What are you doing?" Scott whispered harshly.

"I just wanna look at it!"

"Are you crazy?!" I hissed.

"Look, it's trapped, okay?" Stiles reasoned. "It's not gonna get out."

"It is gonna get out, and when it does, I'm gonna let it eat you!"

Stiles was ignoring me. He directed the beam of the flashlight through the grate, carefully peering inside. And as if that weren't bad enough, then he had to open his damn mouth.

"Yeah, that's right," he taunted softly. "We got you…"

"Will you shut up?!" Scott begged next to me.

"I'm not scared of this thing!"

At that moment, the Alpha slammed into the door, shaking the table violently and sending Stiles tumbling to the floor. Thankfully, it was on our side of the desk, where I could snatch his arm and roughly drag him to his feet. I was ready to drag him out by his ear if I had to, but Stiles pushed me off, glancing back at me with a smile.

"I'm not scared of you!" he called, even as the werewolf dragged its claw across the grate. "Right? Cause you're in there, and we're out here. You're not going any—"

A crash in the tiny room ended his sentence. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, taking a shaky breath before I lifted my gaze up to the ceiling. A creaking noise echoed through the room as the surface above us began to buckle, ceiling tiles popping out under the weight of something enormous.

"Oh, I fucking hate you," I growled at Stiles, before we all turned on our heels and sprinted out the way we'd come. I repeated the phrase like a mantra as the boys led the way through the basement, around dark corners and down dark halls. "I fucking hate you, I fucking hate you, I fucking hate you, I—"

"Sh, stop, stop, wait," Scott ordered, pulling me to a stop again. "Do you guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Stiles asked nervously.

"It sounds like a phone ringing."

"What?!"

Scott's head whipped back and forth in confusion, his werewolf senses obviously picking up on something Stiles and I couldn't hear.

"I know that ring," he gasped suddenly. "That's Allison's phone!"

"Allison?" I repeated in alarm, just as Scott rounded on me.

"I told you not to call her!"

"I didn't call her! When would I have called her? We've been running the whole time!"

"Scott, calm down," Stiles insisted, grabbing Scott's shoulder. "It's not like she's the only person in the world who has that ringtone."

"Gimme your phone," Scott demanded, still bearing down on me.

"What? Why?"

"Gimme it!"

"Scott—"

"I have to make sure!"

I shrank back, fumbling to fish my phone out of my pocket. I practically threw it at Scott, who seized it with growing fury. I looked to Stiles, completely at a loss.

"I didn't—"

"I know," he assured me. "Scott, man—"

Scott was already dialing Allison's phone number. He bounced anxiously as he waited for her to pick up, and froze when she finally answered.

"No, it's me," he said immediately. "Where are you? Where are you right now? …Where?! Where are you exactly?!"

He exchanged a nervous look with Stiles and me, confirming that Allison was in fact at the school. I groaned and wiped my hands down my sweaty face. Because we didn't have enough lives on the line.

"Go to the lobby," Scott instructed. "Go now!"

"So?" I asked as he thrust his phone back at me.

"She's at the swimming pool."

Without another word, he took off, leaving Stiles and I to sprint after him. Maybe it was because of his werewolf speed, or maybe he was just that worried about Allison, but it was nearly impossible to keep up with him. I was wheezing by the time we made it to the lobby, bursting through the doors just a second after Scott.

"Why did you come?" he asked, already meeting Allison in the middle of the room. "Why—what are you doing here? Did Sadie call you?"

"What? No," Allison replied. "You did."

"I did?"

Allison pulled out her phone, holding it up so that Scott could see the screen. I shared another nervous look with Stiles as Scott froze stock still.

"Okay," Allison said, her voice shaking slightly. "Why do I get the feeling you didn't send this message?"

"Because I didn't," Scott answered darkly.

I stormed over to Scott's side and snatched the phone from Allison's hand. She'd pulled up a text from a few hours earlier. There was no number displayed, only the message.

"Meet me at the school. URGENT -Scott"

"Alright, did you drive here?" Stiles interrupted, stepping up on my other side.

"Jackson did," Allison said in a high voice, making me groan.

"Jackson's here too?!" Scott demanded.

"And Lydia," she answered. "What's going on? Who sent this message?!"

Allison's phone started to go off in my hand. She reached for it, but the moment I saw the caller ID, I picked it up myself.

"Lydia, where are you?"

"Sadie?" Lydia's shrill voice asked.

A moment later, the doors on the other side of the lobby flew open, revealing a very irate Lydia and Jackson.

"Sadie, what are you doing here?" she demanded, hanging up her phone and shoving it back in her purse.

"I…uh…"

"You know what? It can wait. Can we go now?"

"Yes," I said immediately. "Let's do that. Let's go now. Like right now."

Before any of us could take a step, a familiar creaking filled the lobby. I winced, looking up at the ceiling as the creaks quickly turned to bangs and snaps, something getting closer, working its way toward us—

"Run!"

Scott grabbed Allison and darted for the stairs. I seized Lydia's arm and dragged her with me, rocketing down the hall just as the Alpha crashed to the floor behind us. We scrambled down the hallway, six hearts racing as the monster chased after us. I nearly tripped glancing behind me, trying to make sure that Lydia was still attached to the arm I was holding, that Jackson was still with us. Stiles grabbed my other hand, tugging me faster down the passage.

We burst thought the double doors to the cafeteria, Stiles and I at the head of the group. Our momentum carried us almost all the way to the opposite wall, while Scott slammed the door behind us and began fiddling with the locks. I wheeled around, trying to do a head count to make sure we hadn't lost anyone. Allison and Lydia were both hyperventilating next to the vending machines, Scott and Jackson trying to move furniture in front of the door to secure it. Stiles was standing next to me, hand still wrapped around mine, and as far as I could tell, I was still alive too. I heaved a sigh of relief.

"Help me get this in front of the door!" Scott was shouting, but Stiles shook his head.

"Scott, wait, not here!"

"What was that?" Allison asked in a panic, her hands shaking in front of her. "Scott, what was that?!"

"What came through the ceiling?!" Lydia cried, her voice wavering dangerously.

I pulled away from Stiles, running to her and pulling her to my chest. Lydia gripped my arm tightly, just as she had when she woke up from her nightmare. I took a shaky breath, praying that she hadn't seen anything, that she wouldn't relapse into that catatonic state she'd been in at the video store. Scared Lydia I could handle. If she shut down, it would be a lot harder to keep her moving.

"Will you just help me?!" Scott yelled. "Chairs! Stack the chairs!"

Allison nodded reluctantly, jumping for the nearest pile and trying to add it to the growing barricade in front of the door. Lydia weaseled out of my arms so she could do the same.

"Guys?" Stiles called again. "Can we just wait a second? You guys, listen to me! Wait!"

"Stiles, come on," I coaxed, but he shook his head.

"No, Sadie! Windows!"

"Yeah? What about—"

The sentence died in my throat as I looked at the opposite wall, covered nearly floor to ceiling in glass. We were barricading ourselves in a room with one exit and a wall full of windows that didn't open. So while the Alpha could smash his way in, we'd never be able to make our way out.

"Damnit…"

"Yeah, exactly," Stiles snapped, turning back to the others. "Can we wait a second? Guys? Stiles talking? Can we hang on one second—"

"STOP!"

My scream stopped everyone in their tracks. Everyone by the door turned around and I silently jabbed a finger at the wall behind me. Stiles cleared his throat, making a similar gesture in an attempt to showcase the problem. One by one, I saw each face fall. Allison broke first.

"Can somebody please explain to me what's going on? Because I am freaking out here, and I would like to know why!"

Everyone turned to Scott for direction, even me and Stiles, but Scott couldn't answer. He screwed up his face, at a complete loss for what to say, void of any viable excuse.

"Scott?" Allison prompted desperately.

He huffed and pushed past her so he could sit on top of the cafeteria table, head in his hands. With Scott down, the three confused people across from us turned to the person they knew best—me.

"Sadie, what the hell is going on?" Jackson asked, throwing his arms out to the side.

I bit my lip, looking between their frantic faces. Allison kept shooting confused, hurt looks to Scott, and Lydia was practically cowering behind Jackson's shoulder, whimpering. I opened my mouth with a real response that I knew I couldn't give. I sighed and edged closer to the Stiles. Our arms brushed, and he looked down at my hand for a moment before addressing the group.

"Somebody killed the janitor."

"What?" Lydia asked hysterically.

"Yeah," I confirmed. I couldn't believe how much energy it was taking me just to echo Stiles's words. "The janitor's dead."

"What are you talking about?" Allison asked, half-laughing. "Is this a joke?!"

"Allison, why would I be joking about this?" I snapped, and she recoiled.

"Wha—who killed him?" Jackson asked.

Again, I struggled to swallow the real answer.

"I—I don't know," I choked out, shaking my head. "We don't know who it was. We just saw—we saw the janitor, and he was yelling and then—"

"Wait, you…you saw him die?"

Jackson's voice was softer this time, and I was horrified to feel tears springing in my eyes. When we'd been running it was one thing, but now that we'd stopped…that hadn't even been a lie. We didn't know who the Alpha was, and we did watch the janitor die. I'd seen it. I'd stood there and watched as an actual person was killed in front of me.

I bit down on my lip to stop it from trembling. No one else asked me to clarify.

"No, no, no, no, no," Lydia muttered under her breath. "This—this was supposed to be over! The mountain lion killed—"

"No, don't you get it?!" Jackson snapped at her. His eyes drifted back to me, full of vindication. "There wasn't a mountain lion."

"Who was it?!" Allison begged. She ran a worried hand through her hair, still addressing Scott. "What does he want?! What's happening…? Scott!"

"I—I—I don't know!" Scott was still shaking, picking at his chin as he tried to pick the right words. "I…I just—if we go out there, he's gonna kill us."

"Us?" Lydia squeaked, grabbing Jackson's arm like a lifeline. "He's gonna kill us?!"

"Who?" Allison demanded again, looking from Scott to Stiles to me again. "Who is it?! Sadie!"

"Allison, I told you, I don't know who it is! None of us do! We didn't see—"

"It's Derek," Scott said suddenly, standing up to his full height. "It's Derek Hale."

"What?!"

Stiles grabbed my arm before I could go off, stepping in front of me and blocking his best friend from my view. That was lucky for Scott, because I was completely prepared to go off on him, secrets be damned. Thankfully, everyone else in the room seemed to take my outburst as one of surprise.

"Derek killed the janitor?" Jackson repeated in confusion.

"A-are you sure?" Allison asked.

"I saw him," Scott replied adamantly.

"The mountain lion—" Lydia protested weakly, but Scott cut her off.

"No! Derek killed them!"

"All of them?" Allison pressed.

"Yeah. Starting with his own sister."

"And the bus driver…?"

"And the guy in the video store! It's been Derek the whole time! He's in here with us…and if we don't get out now…he's going to kill us too."

Lydia started to whimper again, and my concern superseded my anger. I hurried to her side, trying to ignore Jackson's probing eyes. It was like I could feel the doubt rolling off of him in waves. Sure, he knew that we'd never been attacked by a mountain lion, but he wasn't stupid enough to think it's just been a human. He had the claw marks on the back of his neck to prove it.

My mind flipped through a thousand different excuses to back Scott up, but my mouth never moved. It stayed still, my lips pressed together as I turned to stare at Scott in disdain. He knew that there was a good chance Derek was still alive. And he'd still thrown him to the wolves.

"Call the cops," Jackson ordered, looking around the room.

"No," Stiles answered immediately.

Jackson did a double take. "W-what do you mean 'no?'"

"I mean no," Stiles repeated, turning to face Jackson head on. "You wanna hear it in Spanish? ¡No!"

"Look," I cut in, before Jackson could really start fighting back. "If it really is—if—whoever it is, they've already killed three people, and they made it look like a convincing animal attack. We have no idea what they're armed with."

"His dad is armed with an entire sheriff's department!" Jackson argued. "Call him!"

"I'm calling," Lydia announced, pulling out her phone and walking away.

"Lydia, no," I argued. "Stop, just—"

I made a move to grab the phone, only for Jackson to pull me back. I smacked his hand away and, a moment later, he'd grabbed my arm, yanking me back with enough force to make me grab my bad shoulder.

"Ow! Jackson, get—don't touch me!"

"Hey!"

Stiles jumped to my aid, shoving Jackson and prying me out of his grasp. Scott rushed over to help avoid a conflict and the three boys glared at each other, until Lydia's voice rang through the empty cafeteria.

"Yes, we're at Beacon Hills High School. We're trapped and we need you to—but—" Her body went rigid, and she pulled the phone away to stare at it in betrayal. "She hung up on me."

"The police hung up on you?" Allison echoed, and Lydia nodded.

"She said they got a tip warning them that there are gonna be prank calls about a break in at the high school. She said if I called again that they're gonna trace it and have me arrested."

"Lydia, you're not getting arrested," I sighed.

"Okay, then call them again!" Allison shouted.

"No, they won't trace a cell," Stiles explained, shaking his head. "And they'll send a car to your house before they send anyone here."

The news seemed to push Allison right over the edge.

"What the—what—what is this?" she stammered, pushing her hair back in desperation. "Why does Derek want to kill is?! Why is he killing anyone?!"

She turned desperately to Scott once more, causing everyone else to do the same. Scott looked wildly between us.

"Why's everyone looking at me?"

"Is he the one that sent her that text?" Lydia asked him.

"No! I—I mean, I don't know!"

"Did he call the police?" Jackson demanded.

"I don't know!"

"Is this why he drove me home from the party?" Allison asked. "Why—why he went to see Sadie at the library?"

"Wait, he came to see you?" Jackson asked, rounding on me now instead.

"He knows where you work?" Lydia asked, clearly terrified. "Where we live?"

"I don't—I didn't think—no, he—"

"Alright," Stiles said stepping in front of me. "Why don't we ease back on the throttle here, yeah?"

He pulled me a few steps back, grabbing one of the few chairs that hadn't been drafted for the barricade and forcing me to sit down. He patted my shoulder awkwardly, then scurried off to confer with Scott. In his wake, Allison, Lydia, and Jackson crowded around me.

"I'm sorry," Allison said in a strangled voice. "I didn't mean to—"

"I know," I said. I kept my eyes on the ground, swallowing thickly. "I just—I don't know what to say. I don't know—I don't know why he was at the library, or if he was there to see me, or if—if it has anything to do with any of this, and the janitor…"

I trailed off again, fighting a very real battle with my emotions. The janitor was dead. Derek could be dead. He'd pushed me out of the way, he'd bought me enough time to escape, and now Scott and Stiles were getting their stories straight on how to frame him for the murder of three different people. Just a few hours ago, I'd been sitting in the dining room with Lydia and her mom and my mom, arguing over chocolate cake. None of this felt real.

Lydia's hand was on my shoulder, Jackson and Allison talking over my head.

"Do you think he knew?" Jackson asked lowly.

"About Derek?" Allison asked. "No, I—I don't know…"

"Well, if he did know, that's ridiculous," Lydia seethed. "He was at my house. You'd think if someone was suspected of murder, that might come up in conversation."

"Maybe he didn't know," said Allison, trying to convince herself as much as anyone. "Maybe he just found out tonight."

"And he just miraculously pieced it all together?" Jackson shot doubtfully. "Your genius boyfriend and the sheriff's kid? Yeah right. There's been something wrong with them all semester."

"Well, maybe this isn't it."

"You think there's something else? Besides the actual serial killer? Shit, Allison, how many conspiracy theories do you think can fit in a town this fucking small?"

"Jackson—"

"Okay, asshats!" he yelled, storming toward Scott and Stiles once more. "New plan: Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and decent aim. Are we good with that?"

"Jackson, enough with the insults," I snapped. Something in me had finally broke, and I jumped up from my chair to advance on him. "You call someone useless one more time, and I'm gonna make you useless. It's his dad, okay? It's his father, and he doesn't want him to storm into a life or death situation and get hurt. So for two fucking seconds can you get your head out of your ass and show some goddamn sympathy?!"

"He's right." Scott's voice cut off the end of the my tirade, before the last word had even finished in my mouth. I glared at him, but Scott pressed on, turning to Stiles. "Tell him the truth if you have to, just—just call him!"

Stiles looked just as angry as I felt. Whatever he muttered to Scott, I couldn't hear, but it was enough to make Scott's face fall. Stiles walked away from all of us, hands on his hips in protest.

Jackson snapped.

"Alright, gimme the phone!" he yelled, pushing past me to chase down Stiles.

"Jackson—"

It happened in the blink of an eye. No sooner had Jackson grabbed Stiles's shoulder, than Stiles whirled around and punched him square in the jaw. Jackson staggered, holding his face and stumbling over to the windows. Allison ran after him in concern while I rushed to Stiles. I gently pushed him back as he continued to glower at Jackson over my shoulder.

"Hey, it's okay," I whispered, laying a hand on his chest. "Seriously, Stiles, I get it. We'll figure something out."

Stiles stared down at me for a moment, his eyes cloaked in shadow but his lashes still distractingly long. He glanced over at Lydia, now standing alone behind me, looking nervously back and forth between the two competing parties. She hadn't even moved to see if Jackson was okay. Stiles's eyes stayed glued to her as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

"Stiles…"

He shrugged me off, forcing me to take a few steps back as he held the phone up to his ear. I could only look on in despair.

"Dad, hey, it's me," he sighed into the phone. "And it's your voicemail. Look, I need you to call me back now. Like, right now."

The message was interrupted by a slam at the cafeteria doors. Lydia jumped about a foot in the air, scrambling away from the doors as they pounded repeatedly against our makeshift barricade. She rushed toward Allison and Jackson as he got to his feet, and together they backed toward the opposite wall.

"We're at the school," Stiles said urgently, wrapping up the call. "Dad? We're at the school."

The banging sped up. I watched the doors rattling on the hinges, the screws coming loose…

"Oh God," I heard Lydia whimper behind me. "Oh my God!"

A hand grabbed the hood of my sweatshirt, and Stiles pulled me back into back into the group.

"The kitchen," he instructed, keeping his eyes on the door. "The door out of the kitchen leads to the stairwell."

"Which only goes up!" Scott argued, Allison tucked into his side.

"Up is better than here."

Stiles waved everyone back as the door finally came loose. Then we were running once more, sprinting through the kitchen and up the stairwell. We flew through a corridor on the second floor, the six of us splitting off to try every door in sight, but the janitor had done his final job; almost all the classrooms were locked. Finally, Lydia managed to open the door to a chemistry lab, and the rest of us poured in after her.

We pressed ourselves to the walls as Scott jammed a stool under the handle. Then we all froze, trying not to breathe, trying not to blink, like we were in the middle of a last-minute lockdown drill. I listened intently, trying to decide—not whether or not it would find us, but just how long it would take.

A low growl rumbled in the hallway, and I grabbed Stiles's sleeve as he grabbed Scott. Lydia clapped a hand over her mouth. We all watched in terror as a shadow slid over the glass panel of the door. A moment later, it disappeared.

"Jackson," Scott whispered when he'd deemed the coast was clear, "how many people can you fit in your car?"

"S-six, if someone squeezes in someone's lap."

"Six?" Allison hissed. "I barely fit in the back!"

"Fine!" I snapped. "Then everyone sits in someone else's lap and we shove someone in the trunk! We have to get out!"

"It doesn't matter," Stiles dismissed. "There's no getting out without drawing attention."

Scott turned to look at him, but instead, his eyes slid past us to the far wall. "What about this?"

I followed his eyes to a second door. It was tucked between the windows and the chalkboard, the sturdy metal panel adorned with various warning signs. I followed him and Stiles over to inspect it.

"This leads to the roof," Scott explained. "We can go down the fire escape to the parking lot in like seconds!"

"That's a deadbolt," Stiles pointed out, the plan crashing around our ears once more.

"The janitor has a key," Scott suggested.

"The janitor's body has a key, Scott," I hissed, folding my arms over my chest. But Scott wasn't deterred.

"I can get it," he said confidently, lowering his voice even further. "I can find him by scent, by blood."

"Well, gee, that sounds like an incredibly terrible idea," Stiles replied testily. "What else you got?"

"Scott," I pleaded, "you know this could be exactly what he wants, right? He walked right by us. It's not like he doesn't know we're in here. He's probably counting on the fact that you'll go out on his own. You could be playing right into his hands."

"Right into his claws," Stiles added emphatically.

Scott shook his head, determined. "I'm getting the key."

He pushed between the two of us, trying to get to the door before anyone could stop him, but Allison stepped up.

"Are you serious?"

"Well, it's the best plan," he offered. "Someone has to get the key if we wanna get out of here."

"You can't go out there unarmed!" she protested.

Scott looked around the room before snatching the teacher's flimsy board pointer, complete with plastic hand on the end. All five of us stared at him, unimpressed.

"Well it's better than nothing!"

I snatched the plastic from him and swatted him with it. "Don't be a dumbass!"

"There's gotta be something else," Stiles groaned.

"There is," Lydia piped up. She jerked her head toward the chemical closet, and I beamed.

"Lydia, you're a genius."

"I know," she agreed, still shaking, but sporting a smile.

Stiles looked between us incredulously. "What are we gonna do, throw acid on him?!"

"No, like a fire bomb," Lydia explained, eyeing the cabinet carefully. "In there is everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail."

"Self-igniting…"

"Molotov. Cocktail." Almost everyone in the room was staring at her in complete and utter surprise, tainted by a reasonable amount of fear. "What? I read it somewhere!"

"We don't have a key for that either," Stiles sighed, and I rolled my eyes.

"Please. We're already in a solid 602 infraction so, might was well bold the break in breaking and entering. Jackson?"

Jackson pursed his lips together for a moment before ramming his leather-clad elbow through the glass.

"Oh, wow, okay!" Stiles exclaimed, and Allison jumped back.

Lydia pushed her way past Jackson, reaching into the cabinet to retrieve the correct components. "Sadie, a little help, please?"

I ushered Scott and Allison away from the desk and promptly shoved everything off the tabletop. Pens, papers, and models scattered to the floor I as I cleared a space for Lydia to work and rushed to help her with the bottles.

"Okay," she instructed, wiping her hands on my sweatshirt. "I need an Erlenmeyer flask. A big one."

"On it."

I skirted around the desk, darting to the nearest lab station and ducking down to rummage in the supply cupboard. I sifted through the glassware, pushing test tubes and beakers aside so I could pull out the 1000 mL flask standing unused in the back. I turned on the sink, rinsing it as thoroughly as I could before carrying it back to Lydia.

"Uh, dry that," I ordered, pushing it into Jackson's hands. "And give her whatever she asks for."

"Yeah, I know," Jackson said, rolling his eyes. "Lydia gets what Lydia wants."

"Oh, shut up," I snapped before running back to the lab station. I wrenched the drawers open, sorting through stirrers, tongs, and crucibles until I found what I was looking for. I snatched the funnel and ran back to slam it on the desk. "And one plastic funnel."

Lydia walked around, pulling her hair over one shoulder before she started to work. "Great, uh, see if you can find a cork to top it."

"Is that really necessary?!" Scott asked, glancing at the clock on the wall.

Lydia and I both glared at him in unison.

"We need to keep the fumes from evaporating and dispersing," she snapped.

"And if we're putting our lives in your hands, Scott, I'd prefer they weren't suffering from chemical burns," I added, resting a hand on Lydia's shoulder. "I'll look for a cork."

I had to scour each and every desk before I found one that would work. The student labs were chock full of test-tube-sized corks, several of which I'd hurled at the wall in frustration, but none big enough for Lydia's science project. I'd nearly up-ended the PPE closet in the corner before I found one large cork tucked away at the bottom.

Lydia was nearly done by then, inspecting her flask of acidic green liquid. I dusted off the old cork, blew on it a few times, and passed it over so Lydia could tap it into place. She passed it to Scott, who cradled it carefully in both hands, looking like it was about to go off in his face. If anyone other than Lydia had built it, I might've been worried it would.

"No," Allison said, halting in her rhythmic pacing before the door. "No, this is insane. You can't do this. You cannot go out there!"

Scott leaned over the desk, pleading with her. "We can't just sit here waiting for Stiles's dad to check his messages."

"You could die! Don't you get that?! He's killed three people!"

"And we're next!" Scott reminded her, which did nothing to calm her nerves. "Somebody has to do something."

"Scott, just stop!"

He moved to the door, resolute, but Allison blocked his path again.

"Do you…do you remember when you told me you knew whether or not I was lying? That I had a tell?" Scott nodded, and Allison's voice broke as she started to cry. "So do you…y-you're a horrible liar, and you've been lying all night. Just…just please—please don't go. Please don't leave us. Please."

I couldn't stand watching her cry. I averted my eyes down to the black desktop, tracing my fingers along the scratches. I didn't want Scott to go either, but I knew more than Allison. I knew that of all of us, Scott was our best hope—even if he was a liar, even if it was a trap, even if we were all doomed anyway.

There was silence for a moment before Scott replied.

"Lock it behind me."

In a last-ditch attempt, Allison pulled him into a kiss. She clutched at his face, desperately trying to tell him everything she couldn't say in words. Scott pulled away with a look of anguish. He might've been frustrated that she was fighting him, wasting so much time arguing when he was trying to save her life. Or maybe that was another werewolf power. Maybe he could tell exactly how hurt she was going to be when he walked out the door. If he did, it didn't stop him.

Allison watched him go, frozen for a moment, staring at the door. I walked over and, gently as I could, pulled her into a hug. Her chest jolted against me as she tried to quiet her sobs. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders and she burying her face into my sweatshirt. I rubbed her back soothingly, and caught Stiles's eye before nodding to the door. He hesitated, but complied, moving the stool back in place as a makeshift lock.

"It's okay, Ally," I whispered into her hair. "He's gonna be okay."

And as my friend sobbed into my shoulder, I could only hope I was telling the truth.