Stiles gasped, eyes flying open. His head was throbbing, but that quailed in comparison to the searing agony from his left arm. He surveyed his surroundings, heart beating furiously. He was in a small dusty room, most likely a cellar. There was a single flight of stairs leading to a metal door he was certain was locked. There was also a tiny window filtering on the moon; it was too high for him to reach. From the way the light came in he guessed they were northwest of his house, putting them in Jackson's general area. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, dread twisting his gut. He didn't know what the alphas could possibly want with him, but he had to get out of there.

He carefully climbed to his feet, swaying a little. He panted the exertion it placed on his body somewhat overwhelming. He tip toed to the staircase, waiting only a moment before ascending. He could hear voices on the other side of the door, laughter in some cases. He pressed his ear to the door, trying to decipher what they were saying. He picked out Phil's voice quickly, his hatred towards the man only intensifying. He'd played them all, including his father. Stiles would be worried, but he knew the sheriff was safe at the station. He returned his attention back to the conversations, carefully picking out individual voices. He counted silently in his head, trying to figure out exactly how many wolves were there. He choked, reaching sixteen total; his pack would be outnumbered two to one.

Breathing deeply, he descended the stairs retreating to the darkest corner of the room. With his good arm, he rummaged in his pockets, praying the alphas hadn't confiscated his phone. His fingers closed around the tiny silver object and he blew a sigh of relief. He flipped it open, the little blue light illuminating his face. He went straight to his contact list, scrolling through until he found the numbers he needed. His index finger pressed the call button, only to have the device snatched from his hand. Startled he cringed into the corner, angry red eyes scrutinizing him. The alpha snapped the phone in half, leering down at him.

"My mistress is anxious to meet you." He gripped his good arm and half dragged half marched him out of the cellar. The alphas stopped their chatter and turned a volley of glowing red- save Phil- eyes on him. He flushed under their weighted gaze. There were only two females in the room and they turned their noses up at him disdainfully. A few others were whispering to one another, sizing him up. He hoped they couldn't smell the fear rolling off of him like a pungent cloud. One stocky guy with a killer buzz cut stepped in front of him. He grabbed his throat sniffing roughly at his neck. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop his heart from leaping out of his chest. The man finally released him and snickering, rejoined his friends.

He half expected to be torn apart right then and there, but they simply watched him. His captor pushed him to his knees and melted in with the others. Stiles swallowed thickly, his eyes on the red head that appeared before him. Her arms were crossed over her petite frame, but she donned a wicked smirk accompanied by a malignant glint in her eyes. "My, my…so cute. I adore your eyes Stiles. They really suit you." He said nothing in response, so she continued. "My name is Isabella, alpha of the werewolves. I do apologize about your arm, but you brought that upon yourself." She shrugged, the smile never leaving her face. He hated her with a passion.

"Whatever you're planning, you won't get away with it. Derek is going to find you and rip your head off."

The grin wavered. "Your little boyfriend won't have to wait very long cutie. We were going to pay him a little visit tonight. I'm bored with this game, so it's time to put away my toys for good."

"What do you want from me then? I won't tell you anything, surely you know that." He cringed as she crouched, beside him. The red left her eyes and he was startled to see the brilliant blue cat eyes. She was breathtakingly beautiful, but young. She couldn't have been much older than he was. Her slender hands gently grasped his injured arm and neck. His eyes widened, but he didn't get to say anything before she jerked her wrists and his arm popped back into place. He yelped at the brief spasm of pain, but bit back a full scream. Satisfied she stood.

"Oh I'm well aware that you won't betray your friends…not willingly at least. We alphas have been…experimenting with new ways to make our play toys submissive. Phil concocted a special little something just for you. You'll want to kill whomever I send you after my little pet."

He scrambled back, but didn't get far before two sets of hands roughly pulled him to his feet. He struggled in their grasp. "I would never hurt them, never."

Leah cackled darkly. "Sweetheart, the madness will cloud over your pathetic feelings for that excuse of a pack. And you will help me whether you like it or not. Don't struggle, darling, I don't want this to hurt." She motioned to Phil and the man stepped forward, a syringe in his hand. It was filled with dark red liquid with a black substance floating around in it. He tugged against his captors, though rationally he knew it wouldn't do any good. Phil got in his face, leering at him.

"I'm going to enjoy watching this Stiles. If you survive, maybe I get to keep you." He chuckled and seized his right wrist exposing the crescent bite mark. He shook his head in horror.

"Phil stop! Stop, don't do this." He pleaded working harder than ever to detach his arm from the hybrid alpha. The man's sneer only widened as he jabbed the needle into his skin.

Acid shot into his veins. It corroded his tissue, leaving a fiery path in its wake. Stiles bellowed in excruciating agony, dropping to the floor and writhing. The poison filled his lungs, making it difficult to draw in sufficient air. He began foaming at the mouth, his heart pounding too fast to me normal. He curled into a fetal position, biting so hard on his bottom lip he tasted the metallic tang of blood. His vision was graying around the edges, the center tinged in red. He felt his fingernails extending, his teeth sharpening to lethal points. He howled, feeling the poison twist into his mind, strangling his memories, twisting and distorting them. He closed his eyes, trying to fight the madness, to fight the sudden bloodlust he was craving. He thought about Derek, about his touch, about everything they'd been through since they first met; all to no avail.

Stiles stopped twitching, just lay there, the venom finishing its job. He could feel the raging heat, the madness that Leah had spoken of. He wanted blood, he wanted to crush and maim the bodies around him. He snarled low in his chest, heaving off of the floor into a crouch. Leah looked absolutely amazed, like a child on Christmas morning. She dropped to her knees looking him over imploringly. She reached her hand out cautiously, feeling his muscles, stroking his face. He wanted nothing more than to snatch her head from her shoulders. Stiles gasped shaking his head, his vision returning to normal, but his body still controlled by the madness.

"I-I won't hurt them, not now, not ever. They'll figure out a way to cure this…and then I'm going to kick your ass."

The smile brightened. She clutched his chin, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Now, now my little pet. You must be nice to me. I want you to do something for me because I am your alpha." Her eyes darkened and he whined through his teeth. He wanted to resist her power, but he submitted, bowing his head. She rubbed his neck soothingly. "You won't be like this long Stiles. I like you human; this is just until your mission is complete. Does that sound nice?" she cooed.

No, it was horrible! He would not be her bitch. "Yes mistress."

"Good boy. We are going to destroy a pack of wolves do you understand? Your part is very important so you must do it right." She made sure she held his gaze. Stiles knew what was coming, wanted to defy her, fight back, anything, but whatever they did to him had him at her mercy; he couldn't say no. "I want you to kill Derek Hale."