Here's 6, if you're this far I hope you're enjoying the story! Review/like/subscribe. Thanks x

P.s. pretty nasty violence in this chapter, swear words etc, you've been warned

Chapter 6

Inside the safety of the gas station, Stiles headed straight for the payphone at the back of the store. She heard the two men enter the store shortly after her, so she tried to act casual and look as if she was browsing the magazine stand next to the phone. She glanced at the register, and her heart dropped when she saw it was vacant. The cashier wasn't there. Fuck, she trembled. Where was he? Bathroom break? Please be back soon. The two men were talking amongst themselves; they appeared relatively harmless thus far.

When she was sure they were not looking her way, she quickly stepped over to the payphone and picked up the handset. There was no dial tone. That was when she noticed a note over the coin slot that said 'OUT OF ORDER'.

Fuck fuck.

She didn't know what to do. Would it be weird if she just walk out now? Should she risk walking back to the Jeep? She could wait around for the cashier to come back… surely he wouldn't leave the store unattended for too long, seeing as his window got busted up only a week ago. A voice spoke from behind her.

"Phone not working?" she stifled a scream that threatened to escape her mouth, and spun around to face one of the men standing behind her. He had shoulder length raggedy blond hair that had almost formed into dreadlocks and bright blue eyes. She tried to compose herself and laughed it off.

"Yeah," she said, slowly edging away from the man. "I left my phone in my car."

"You can borrow mine, if you like," he said, moving closer to her. He had an ugly grin on his face.

"No thanks, I'll just go back to my car. My… boyfriend… is waiting for me," she lied, and picked up her pace towards the door. Just as she was reaching for the handle, the other man stepped in front of her, blocking the way. This man had tan skin and dark hair, and was fairly short for someone his age. He was about level with Stiles.

"Excuse me," she said quietly, doing her best not to absolutely freak out. The man brown haired man smiled at her.

"You're boyfriend?" the blond one said from behind her. She turned around to face him, stuck between the two of them.

"Yes," she swallowed. Blondie stepped closer to her, so close she could feel his breath on her face. Gross.

"You're boyfriend… the werewolf," her whispered. Stiles felt her mouth drop.

"What? No," she stammered. "What? There's no such things as werewolves."

He reached out a dirty hand and gently stroked a loose lock of hair beside her face. Stiles froze when she saw his claws were out. Derek was right, unfortunately. They were wolves.

"I can smell him on you," Blondie told her, pulling her head forward by the lock of hair and inhaling a big whiff of it. Stiles was beyond panicking.

"Okay, ha-ha, very funny," she did her best fake-laugh. "Werewolves, good one. I need to go, it was nice meeting you. Lay off the drugs maybe?"

She tried to pull away from the blond one but he tightened his grip of her hair and yanked her forward. Ouch. The brown haired one grabbed her forearm, his claws digging into her fragile human skin.

"You're hurting me!" she yelled, trying to twist out of his grip. He responded by digging his claws in more, puncturing the skin, and blood began to trickle down Stiles' arm. She yelped in pain and struggled even harder to break fee, but that just made it worse.

"Now we're hurting you," Blondie laughed.

"Hey!" a voice called from not far away. Stiles whipped her head around to see the cashier had returned. About time. He stared at the two men and recognition swept over his face.

"Help!" Stiles pleaded, blood beginning to drip steadily from her arm onto the ground.

"Let her go! Or I'll call the police!" the cashier yelled, his mobile phone in hand. Blondie huffed and moved his hand to grip Stiles' throat.

"Go ahead, call them. We're leaving anyway," he said. A simple nod to the brown haired man and they began dragging Stiles outside. The last she saw of the cashier he was dialling a number on the phone. She was relieved that the police would be on their way, but scared at the same time. She didn't want any of them to get hurt. She hoped Parrish was on duty. As a Phoenix, he was the only match for two Omegas. They stopped moving when they were around the corner from the gas station.

"Why are you taking me?" she asked, her voice strained due to the intense amount of pain she was in. If he squeezed her arm any tighter the bone would break.

"We're not taking you. You're free to go as soon as you're Alpha friend comes," they told her.

"He doesn't know I'm here!" she breathed. "I wasn't with him. I was with another wolf."

They looked at each other for a moment, as if they had not been expecting this, then Blondie simply shrugged.

"We'll just have to make your location known to him," he said. He nodded at the brown haired one, who then dug his claws even deeper into Stiles arm – he had to be touching the bone now, she thought. The worst part came next. With his claws buried as far into the flesh as he could go, he proceeded to drag his claws across her arm, resulting in deep, open lines from which blood began to flow.

Stiles screamed. No, she howled. She may not have been a werewolf, but that sounds that came out of her mouth were inhuman. Her arm was on fire. She jerked and twisted and tried to escape the pain, yet Blondie's firm grasp on her neck prevented her from doing so. Finally, the man lifted his claws from Stiles arm and let go. She couldn't bring herself to look at the wound; she already knew it was bad. She could feel the blood pouring out; her arm was wet with it.

The brown haired one stepped away from his handiwork and grinned something evil.

"Who are you?" Stiles asked, choking on her own pain. Even in her worst moment she was still Daddy's little detective.

"Oh, did we forget to introduce ourselves? How rude," Blondie said. "My name is Maximilian, and this is Diego."

"What do you want?" she continued weakly. How much blood had she lost? Was she dying?

"We want your Alpha," he explained. "To kill a True Alpha, well that's an opportunity that only comes along once every hundred years. We're ready to ascend."

"You won't be a True Alpha," Stiles spat. If she was going to die she was going out with her usual humour and wit. "You'll just be murderers, like the others."

Maximilian brought her face close to his so she had nowhere to look but right into his eyes. He showed her his real eyes, his werewolf eyes. They were blue. The colour of those who had taken a life.

"We're already murderers, sweetie," he said menacingly.

This is it, Stiles thought, I'm going to die at the hands of a man with dreadlocks. Of all the ways she thought she would die, this was not one of them. She tensed her body, ready for the end. She had done this a few times before. When she and Derek almost drowned in the school pool, when Gerard Argent beat her, when the Nogistune ruined her body, when the chemist who infected their school had a gun to her head. Stiles had a routine. Squeeze her eyes tight shut, think of Scott's face, of her father's, and finally, she pictures her mother. She envisions her Mom opening up her arms and welcoming her in.

Stiles didn't know what to expect next. Would they kill her here and now? Wait for Scott to arrive? Let her go. Whatever happened, she was ready for the worst-case scenario.

But what she wasn't ready for was him. She heard his howl before she saw him; his black glossy coat, glowing blue eyes. The most beautiful wolf she had ever seen. It could only be Derek Hale.