The world was a blur of motion and color. I didn't bother to distinguish any of it. What did it matter? What I thought—even what I knew was cold, hard fact—wouldn't change anything that was happening. It wouldn't stop people from walking down the hall or being late to class. It wouldn't stop Scott, Allison and Stiles from watching me like a time bomb ready to collapse. And it wouldn't stop Derek, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica from trying to kill my best friend.

"Sadie? Sadie, come on," Stiles's voice pleaded. "We're gonna do something. We're gonna stop them. Lydia will be okay."

I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the shapes around me. Stiles was standing in front of me, his thumbs rubbing small, soothing circles on my skin as he held me by the shoulders. Allison and Scott were piling into the room behind him, closing the door to Coach Finstock's office behind them. I hadn't even noticed how far we'd walked.

Stiles was trying to comfort me, but Scott knew there was no time to lose.

"Derek's outside waiting for Lydia," he said gravely.

I bit my lip to hold in a whimper. It was all too much. There was too much going on for Derek to be after Lydia too, not when the Argents were already curious, not when I was still trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

"Waiting to kill her?" Allison asked Scott feebly.

"If he thinks she's the kanima, then yes. Especially after what happened at the pool."

"Nothing happened at the pool!" I snapped. "Lydia wasn't there! She was in the car, and then Stiles called me about the kanima, and then I went inside! She was never alone! Nothing happened!"

"Sadie…" Scott gave me a pitying look, just like he had that night. "She didn't pass the test."

"I know. I know, but—she was sitting right next to me, Scott. I'm not saying nothing's wrong with her. I'm just saying she can't be the kanima. She can't be."

"It doesn't matter, because Derek thinks it's her," Allison interrupted tersely. "So either we can convince him that he's wrong, or we've got to figure out a way to protect her."

"Well, I really don't think he's gonna do anything here," said Scott, shaking his head. "Not at school."

"What about after school?"

There was a collective sigh as we thought to think of an alternative. No matter how we spun it, it was only a matter of time before Derek got to Lydia. If not Derek, it would be Isaac, or Erica, or Boyd. We were overpowered, outmanned, and running out of time.

"What if we can prove that Derek's wrong?" asked Allison.

Stiles scoffed. "By three o'clock?"

"There could be something in the bestiary."

"Oh, you mean the nine hundred page book written in archaic Latin that none of us can read? Good luck with that!"

"We could always—"

"No," Scott cut me off, his voice gentle, but firm. "Sadie, we cannot tell Lydia right now. If she even thinks that this is a joke—"

"She won't. Not if you show her."

"Then she runs because she's scared! And if she's not with any of us, she's not safe. You know that."

I huffed, turning my head away to eye the clock. I did know that. If Lydia got fed up with our explanation, if she thought we were joking or putting her in danger, she would proudly march off on her own, and that would give Derek's pack the perfect opportunity to capture her. Right now, the best way to ensure Lydia's safety was to make sure she was never alone, and to make sure she was never alone, we had to do everything we could to keep her in a good mood. Finding out a gang of werewolves wanted to kill her would probably not put Lydia in a good mood.

Allison lifted her head from her chest, her eyebrows furrowed. "Actually, I think I know someone else who might be able to translate it."

Everyone turned to look at me for a moment, as if I would shoot down the idea of anyone translating the bestiary besides Lydia. But I wasn't stupid.

"Do it," I agreed, resigned. "We need as much information as we can get."

"Uh, I can talk to Derek?" Scott offered. "Maybe convince him to give us a chance to prove it's not her."

"Good. I'm coming with you."

"What? No!" he objected, just as Stiles replied, "Ha! I don't think so."

"Guys, she's right," Allison argued. "Scott shouldn't go alone, and if Derek's going to listen to anyone, it's Sadie."

"And if anyone's gonna get hurt, it's Sadie!" Stiles snapped. "I don't know if you remember, but the dude has three, jacked-up teenagers on his side, one of whom is not in school! That means Boyd is outside with Derek, probably just waiting for one of us to try something stupid so they can maim us and brutalize us and get us out of the way! And as much as I love Scott, Sadie can't heal!"

"Which is why they won't try anything," I countered. "They can attack Scott because they know that he can heal. If I go, they have to be more careful. We get more time, and I can talk to Derek. I'm coming."

There were a few seconds of loaded silence before Scott gave in, and his shoulders sagged in defeat.

"Fine. But if anything happens, you let me handle it, okay? All of you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked with narrowed eyes.

"It's like you said: I can heal, you guys can't. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Allison looked almost annoyed by the insinuation. She stood up from the desk, unzipped her backpack, and a moment later was pulling out a black shaft. With a flick of her wrist, the sides sprung out and locked, forming into a miniature crossbow. She held it up in defiance.

"I can take care of myself."

Stiles tilted his head in ascent, then looked warily at me. "You didn't bring your gun to school, right? 'Cause that's a whole other set of problems I'm not ready to deal with today."

"No, Stiles, I did not bring my gun to school," I said, rolling my eyes. "Well, I brought my taser gun, but that's nothing new."

"Marginally less alarming, and better than nothing. Smart."

We turned back to Scott and Allison, only to find them holding hand and conversing in low voices. They were completely oblivious to the outside world, just as they always were together. The sight made me smirk, but Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Aaand they're having a couple moment. Just great."

"You know, you don't have to be bitter about couple moments anymore, right?" I asked, stepping in front of him. "We're a couple. We could have a couple moment."

"Huh. I guess we could…" Just like at the bowling alley, Stiles glanced over my shoulder for instructions. "How?"

"Apparently, you tell me to be careful, and I tell you not to worry."

"Psh, why would I have to worry about my kickass, taser-wielding girlfriend? You're plenty capable of taking care of yourself."

I grinned and briefly let my eyes flutter shut. I knew that it was a load of crap. Stiles would worry about me just like he would worry about Scott or Allison or his dad. Just like I would worry about him. But it was nice to hear a lie every now and then: You're capable. You're competent. I trust you.

"Well then, we could always do this…"

I leaned forward, catching his lips with mine and leaning him against the filing cabinet. It was reassuring, soft, even as Stiles kissed me back. When he did pull back, he rested his forehead on mine, his eyelashes nearly brushing mine as he looked at me.

"Be careful, okay?"

"Don't worry. I will be."

"I thought we were the gross couple," Scott cut in with a grin.

Stiles flipped him off and I rolled my eyes, turning around and heading for the locker room door. "Just keep an eye on Lydia. We'll be back as soon as we can."

"Woah, woah, hang on," Stiles called, waving his hands. "If you're out there with Scott and Allison's translating the bestiary, how am I supposed to contain Lydia? Not to be a pessimist or anything, but she's never particularly liked me. I don't think she's revving to hang out."

"You're Sadie's boyfriend," Scott supplied, nonplussed. "Isn't that enough?"

Everyone in the room looked at him incredulously.

"Just figure something out," Allison said, turning back to Stiles. "Pretend you need her help planning a date or something."

"Ha! Are—seriously? Allison, that's gonna buy me all of three seconds before to tells me to pull my own weight and take responsibility for my actions."

"Well you need to do something!"

"I know I need to do something! That's why I'm asking what something I should do! Because I can't think of something to do!"

My eyes sank to the floor as they bickered. We needed to put Lydia in a good mood, and Stiles wasn't going to do that. What we needed was someone Lydia liked, someone she trusted and wanted to be around, someone who would knew the situation and wouldn't ask questions. As much as I absolutely despised it, I knew that only left us with one option.

"I'm gonna call Jackson."

"I'm sorry, you're gonna do what?" Stiles demanded. "What happened to awful, terrible, jackass Jackson?"

"He knows what's going on and, as much as he doesn't want to admit it, he doesn't want her to get hurt. I'll ask him to keep an eye on her while you're not around. Then at the end of the day, you meet up, and you get her out. She'll go with him."

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Sadie?" Allison asked, wringing her hands.

"No," I admitted, "but it's the only one we've got. We need to stop them, which means keeping Lydia occupied. If anyone can do that, it's that shithead."

Everyone traded solemn looks. We were all trying to gauge each other; if just one of us looked confident that this would work, it would be a little easier for everyone else. Instead, all I saw were faces filled with poorly concealed worry, anxiety that dripped out of them until it seemed to be pooling on the floor at our feet, inescapable if we stood still for much longer.

"We'll see you guys later," said Scott, with as much conviction as he could muster. "If we're not back before the last bell, take Lydia to my house. Mom's got a shift, so the house should be empty."

Allison nodded obediently, looking more resolved with each bob of her head. I folded my arms over my chest, hoping to hold all my doubt inside. Scott drew himself up even taller.

"We can do this. Lydia's gonna be fine."

He jerked his head to me and I followed him toward the door. I gave Allison a feeble smile, but only made it two steps before Scott whirled around again and yanked me to the side. I shrieked, stumbling, but it was over before I could even comprehend what was happening. I blinked and Scott's hand was in front of his face, holding the small arrow that had been less than a second from burrowing itself in his skull.

Allison, Scott, and I turned in unison—annoyed, horrified, and exasperated respectively. Stiles stood with his jaw hanging slack. He looked down at the crossbow in his hands, then up at each of us in turn. When Allison held out her hand, he immediately surrendered the weapon to her.

"Ah…I, uh…I was just gonna…hand that off to…you. Sorry…sensitive trigger on that…"

I shook my head as Scott handed the arrow to Allison with a trembling hand. It was awful to laugh, since Scott might've just died in front of my face. Hell, I might've died if he hadn't pulled me out of the way—that would've been awkward, after all of Stiles's ranting about how I couldn't heal—but absurd as it was, I couldn't keep the small smile off of my face.

"Just keep an eye on Lydia and try not to kill anyone," I advised. "Including yourself."

Stiles threw up a salute, and I nudged Scott out of the office and into the hall.

As we walked, I pulled my phone out from my bag, scrolling through my contacts to find Jackson's number. I'd gone to delete it a hundred times over the last few months, but could never quite commit. Much as I hated seeing his name in my phone, I knew that one of these days, I was going to need his number for something—something exactly like this.

Jackson answered his phone with all the heartwarming kindness I'd expected of him.

"What do you want?"

"Lydia alive," I answered bitterly. "And I know that somewhere in that hollow cavity you call a chest, you want that too."

"Stop being so fucking dramatic, Sadie. She's fine."

"She didn't pass Derek's test. You know what that means."

There was complete silence on the other end of the line, the kind that almost makes you check that you haven't accidentally hung up or dropped the call. The only indication that Jackson was still there was the shallow, nervous breathing that gave him away before he could compose his callous shell. He cleared his throat.

"If she failed the test, then it's her. Sounds like she's done enough damage to deserve it."

I stopped walking. Scott skidded to a halt beside me, looking back to see what was wrong, but I was too angry to even notice.

"Can you pretend for just two fucking seconds that you have the capacity to be a normal human being, Jackson? I know that as much of an asshole as you are, you don't want Lydia dead. She's not the kanima, and we can prove it. We just need time."

"And what the hell am I supposed to do about that?"

"I just need you to watch her. Keep her away from Isaac and Erica. And at the end of the day, you go with her to Scott's house until we talk Derek down."

"Wow, that really does sound like fun, but being part of a supernatural defense force wasn't really on my schedule today. Thanks, though."

"Jackson, I'm being serious! I…I know that you still care about her. And if nothing else, I know she still cares about you. I'm just trying to keep her safe, and I need your help to do it. Please."

There was a relapse of silence on the other end; it stretched on for ages. My stomach clawed at the walls of my chest, climbing up into my throat, thriving on the nerves until Jackson sighed.

"Fine. I'll watch her."

"Oh, thank God. Thank—" But before I could get the rest of the sentence out, he'd hung up on me. I glared down at the phone, restraining myself from crushing it to pieces. "Jackass."

"Hey, you did it," Scott reminded me, patting me on the back. "You did good. He'll watch Lydia for now. Let's go find Derek."

He grabbed my arm and tugged me back into motion down the hall.

It took a bit of searching outside, but just like when anything else went wrong, it wasn't long before I was reluctantly walking onto the lacrosse field. I didn't mind it so much when the stadium was full of people, players sprinting across the grass and spectators cheering from the sidelines. Empty, it was a different story. I followed Scott across the field, heading for the lone figure on the other side. Even though I knew it was Boyd, not Peter, I couldn't quite beat down the uneasy feeling in my stomach. I was out on the empty lacrosse field while Lydia had a death sentence hanging over her, again. I hated it.

"Sadie, go back inside," Boyd called as we approached. "You don't want to do this."

"I'm not going anywhere. Not until you back down."

"You know I can't do that."

"We want to talk to Derek," Scott demanded, but Boyd only smirked.

"Talk to me."

He ambled forward as we closed the distance, meeting us in the middle of the field. Just like Isaac and Erica, he looked good—taller than I ever would have guessed he was, confident in his movements. He dwarfed Scott and I as we drew level, but Scott was sure to keep me two steps behind him.

"I don't want to fight," he said to Boyd.

"Good. Cause I'm twice the size of you."

"True…really, really true." Scott gulped, but admirably buried any of his uncertain. "But you know what I think? I'm twice as fast."

In the blink of an eye, they were fighting. Scott had pounced before Boyd knew what hit him, catching him around the middle and tackling him to the ground. Boyd threw him off in the next instant and slammed him into the dirt. He leapt to his feet in one bound, ready to make the next move—

"Hey! No!" I jumped into the fray, planting myself between both boys. "You wanna fight? You punch me!"

Boyd paused, brows knitting together in confusion. "What?"

"Punch me, Vernon! Come on!"

I shoved his chest and he actually stumbled back. This was not what he'd expected. No one thought the human girl was going to fight back—and I was tired of not fighting. I was tired of doing nothing while my friends were in danger. I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I wasn't going to sit back and watch people get hurt either.

"Boyd!"

His head snapped up at the command and he quickly backed down, glad to have an order to follow. That was well enough. I was already rounding on his Alpha with all the rage I'd been bottling up.

"You! Derek! Call them off! Call them off right now! It's not her!"

"I can't do that," said Derek, strolling casually up to our group.

"Yes, you can!" I spat at him. "Now!"

"I'm sorry, Sadie."

I could hear the tension in his voice, the tightness that came with saying something you didn't really want to say. I didn't know if that was because he was sorry he was hurting me, or because he wasn't sorry at all. I was too angry to care.

I ran up to him and shoved him just as hard as I'd shoved Boyd, punching him even thought I knew whatever twinge of pan he might feel would vanish immediately.

"She's innocent! It's not Lydia! It's not! And you're gonna kill her! You're gonna kill and innocent girl, and my best friend will be dead, and it's going to be all your fault! How can you fucking live with yourself?!"

Scott leapt forward to grab me. He dragged me back to what he considered to be a safe distance, but Derek hadn't retaliated. He'd stood there and let me punch him, stepping back occasionally to soften the blow of my punches. His face was utterly blank, calm and serene in a way I couldn't understand of someone who was about to murder a teenage girl.

"She didn't pass the test."

"Which doesn't prove anything," Scott said adamantly. "Lydia's different."

"I know," Derek said lightly. "At night, she turns into a homicidal, walking snake."

I growled, making to pounce again, but Scott tightened his grip around me, gluing me to his torso.

"We're not going to let you kill her."

"Who said I was gonna do it?"

The realization that came with that statement was enough that Scott's arms went slack around me. It didn't matter now. I was too horrified to move from my place on the grass. I just stared at Derek, disbelieving. How could this be Derek Hale? The same Derek Hale who I'd shared burgers with? Who'd teased me about my boyfriend with a fond smile and protective growl? Who'd helped fight away my demons and hold onto some fraction of my sanity? And now he stood in front of me, plotting to kill my best friend, and turning teenagers into murderers to do it.

"You are disgusting."

For a moment, it was all I managed to get out. Derek turned to me, his face still just as blank. It was so carefully composed. All I wanted to do was smash it. I wanted an apology that meant something. I wanted trust. I wanted him to show, at least for a second, that this wasn't something he wanted to do.

"You want to kill her, you do it yourself," I continued, my voice trembling from the effort of restraining myself. "Don't use a hoard of teenagers to do your dirty work."

"They're doing it because they understand what's at stake," Derek replied. "She has to die, Sadie. She's killed people, and she'll kill more. Next time, it's gonna be one of us. I'm not gonna let that happen."

"Then you're a fucking hypocrite. You're about to kill a teenage girl without any proof, and you're gonna use some teenagers on a power trip to do it. You're telling them to kill her to prove themselves, so they feel powerful. You know who else did that, Derek? Kate."

If I'd blinked, I wouldn't have seen his face move. His thick eyebrows twitch just a fraction upward, but that was enough—enough to know that the word had hit him like a slap to the face, harder than any punch I could have thrown with my hands. It wasn't the reaction I wanted, but it satisfied me for now.

I tried to capitalize on his moment of shame.

"Derek," I pleaded, "just listen, okay? That night at the pool, when you were interrogating Stiles? I was sitting in the car with Lydia the entire time. She was crying her eyes out because she has no idea what's going on in this town, and none of us will tell her. I sat with her for the entire game, and I didn't leave until Stiles called me—called me because you two had been attacked. Okay? So it can't be her. It's not."

He stared down at me for almost a minute, his green eyes flicking over my desperate face. I didn't dare blink. I needed to use every second to beg, to implore him to see reason. If I could get him to admit just that, maybe we could talk to Lydia together. If Derek could explain what was going on, Lydia could help all of us. She could be the missing piece if we just calmed down and let her in…but the heavy feeling in my gut said otherwise.

Derek's jaw clenched, and he said the four words I'd known were coming, but still wasn't ready to hear.

"I don't believe you."

"Derek, please—"

"You don't want to lose your friend, I get that, but you don't have any more proof than I do. People are dying and you can't explain what she is. I'm not risking your life on that chance."

I let out a strangled noise, lunging for him again. This time, it was Boyd who stopped me. He grabbed my waist and flung me to the side before I could so much as lay a finger on Derek. It was meant to be a gentle toss, and I landed on my feet, but the momentum from Boyd's newfound strength sent me tumbling to the ground and skidding through the grass. Derek growled at his beta, and Scott leapt my defense, but Boyd knocked him into the dirt too. It didn't stop Scott from fighting back.

"What if you're wrong?" he coughed up at Derek.

"She was bitten by an Alpha. It's her."

"You saw that thing up close. You know it's not like us."

"But it is! We're all shapeshifters. You don't know what you're dealing with. It happens rarely, and it happens for a reason."

"What reason?"

Derek hesitated, his eyes flitting over to me before he replied.

"Sometimes the shape you take reflects the person that you are."

He stepped forward, holding a hand out to Scott to help him to his feet. He moved to help me next, but I was already clambering up on my own, brushing dirt off my skirt and glowering at him in warning. Derek pursed his lips and took a step back.

"Even Stiles calls her cold-blooded," he reasoned.

"She's not." I was trying to sustain my rage, but my voice broke in desperation. "She's not, Derek. I know that she can be vain, and she can be mean and selfish and shallow, but she's not that. She's a good person, and it's not her."

Derek shook his head, ready to argue again when Scott spoke over him.

"What if she's immune? What if she's got something inside of her that makes her immune to the bite, w-which is why she didn't get paralyzed?"

"No one's immune," Derek argued. "I've never seen it or heard of it! It's n—it's never happened!"

"What about Jackson?"

"Jackson?" I frowned, anger momentarily forgotten. "What does this have to do with Jackson?"

"They tested him," Scott explained, his eyes never leaving Derek's. "Which means they thought he might be the kanima."

"Okay, but…"

I trailed off, finally catching up to Scott's train of thought. Derek thought Lydia was the kanima because she'd been bitten by an Alpha and never made the transformation. If he'd tested Jackson too, tested Jackson first…

"That's why you tested him, isn't it?" Scott pressed, taking a step closer to Derek. "Because you gave him what he wanted, didn't you?"

"Scott—"

"Peter said the bite either turns you or kills you. You were probably hoping that he would die! But nothing happened, right? And you have no idea why, do you?"

Scott was half laughing, grinning into Derek's livid face. His jaw was clenched tight with rage, his lips pressed into a thin line, unwilling to admit his ignorance. But even Boyd was looking at him now, eyebrows raised in unabashed interest. There wasn't much else Derek could do.

"No."

I laughed, more outraged than anything else. Sometimes, I took it for granted how stupid Derek could be. Stiles and Scott tested my patience from time to time, but this had to take the cake. If there had been a dumber way to handle the Jackson problem, I couldn't think of it. If Derek had bitten Jackson with the aspiration of building a pack, then he was stupid to think Jackson would ever stoop so low as to follow someone else's orders; the only Alpha Jackson would ever recognize was himself. If Derek had bitten him on the off chance it might kill him…well, there were better ways to commit manslaughter. All Derek had managed to do was create a bigger, messier problem.

If nothing else, it explained why Jackson had been even more of a douchebag as of late. He wasn't just an entitled asshole; he was an entitled asshole who felt he'd been cheated. And judging by the way he'd been terrorizing Lydia for the last few weeks, it was obvious who he blamed for his losses.

"Well I have a theory," said Scott, still looking determinedly at Derek. "Lydia's immune and, somehow, she passed it onto Jackson. You know I'm right!"

"No!" Derek barked back.

"You cannot do this!"

"Look, I can't let her live! You should have known that!"

"Scott," I interrupted softly.

Everyone stopped, turning to me and then following my gaze off the field. People were pouring out of the building, piling into the parking lot in a mad dash to escape the school. Even now, the crowd seemed to be thinning out. People were rushing home, and as far as I was concerned, that only meant one thing: Lydia was out of time.

I took a shaky breath, saying a silent prayer that the others had gotten her to the car in time. When Scott turned back to Derek, he sounded far more confident than I felt.

"We were hoping we could convince you," he said, a smile playing on his lips, "but we weren't counting on it."

Derek squinted at him in confusion, but it only took him a minute to catch on. The frown melted away into a disbelieving smile. He looked almost as amused by our stupidity as we had been by his.

"Stiles and Allison," he chuckled. "You honestly think two human teenagers are enough to stop me from getting to Lydia?"

"Yes." I ground my teeth together, taking a calculated step forward to get in his face. "You're not going to touch her. Just. Try me."

We glowered at each other for a few seconds. Scott and Boyd hung back uncertainly, waiting for one of us to actually attack; neither of us would. I could jump at Derek, but I knew I wasn't going to do any damage or make him change his mind. Derek could hurt me, but he didn't want to—not any more than he already had.

"Sadie, come on. We should go."

Scott slipped his hand into mine and gently tugged me toward the building. We moved slowly, like you would if you were backing away from some rabid animal. Then again, in a way, that's exactly what we were doing. Derek and Boyd made no move to stop us. They just watched, chins jutted out in defiance and eyes narrowed, until Scott and I disappeared into the school.

The moment we were inside, we took off running like lunatics, weaving in and out of stragglers in an effort to get to the parking lot. Derek and Boyd were probably already on their way to meet up with Isaac and Erica. It might take them a while to find her, but there were only so many places we could be using as a safe house. They'd divide and conquer, then converge, probably in the time it took Scott and I to get back to his house. It was a terrible plan, but our only option—which, of course, is why things had to get worse.

"McCall! Get over here!"

Scott and I skidded to a halt, glancing back down the hall to find Coach Finstock storming out of his office. Scott hesitated, his body practically twitching as his instincts pulled him in two different directions.

"Go," he ordered me. "Take my bike and go."

"What? No! We have to—"

"I'll run and meet you there. The code for my lock is one-two-three-four. Just take my bike and go!"

"Seriously?" I stopped short, squinting at him. "Your code is one-two-three-four?"

"Sadie, just go!"

"McCall! Hurry it up!"

I stayed for one more second, bouncing pleadingly on my toes, but Scott was already turning back. I swallowed my noise of frustration and continued in the opposite direction, sprinting even harder than I had before.

I really, really, really needed to get my own car. Or get a spare set of keys for Lydia's Beetle. Her life was on the line, I had to get to her as fast as possible, and I had to leave her perfectly good car behind in favor of Scott's bike. My legs felt like they were on fire, my knuckles stinging from my death grip on the handlebars. Until I got a car, I probably needed to start working out.

Every inch I coaxed the bike forward seemed to push the sun lower in the sky. I watched with apprehension as the horizon changed from blue to gold, then dulled to the grey of dusk. The cars on the roads were beginning to turn their headlights on. They outstripped me with such ease, I wanted to scream. I might've if I wasn't already so out of breath.

The loud trill of my ringtone split through the air, and I nearly lost control of the bike in my haste to grab it. I skidded to the side of the road and fished it out of my bag in a panic.

"Please tell me everyone is okay!"

"We're fine, but I don't know how much longer," Stiles sighed. "Where the hell are you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm—just a couple streets away," I panted. "I had to take—Scott's bike—fuck, I'm out of shape. I'll be there in like two—"

"Wait, wait, wait! Don't come here!"

"What? What do you mean 'don't—"

"No, I mean—don't pull in front. They're already here."

"Fuck…" I slumped forward over the handlebars, smacking the front wheel a few times for good measure as I tried to regroup. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do now?"

"You're gonna have to come around back. Take the back roads, park on the next street over, you can hop the fence, and I'll let you in. Just text me when you get here."

I bit back a groan, but agreed and ended the call. Skirts were not optimal for jumping fences—or riding bikes, for that matter—but at least I'd worn boots instead of heels.

It took me a few minutes to navigate the back streets, trying to find the house that was behind the McCalls'. Then there was the matter of actually hopping the fence. Chain-link was easy enough to do, but it took me three times to hoist myself up and over the wooden fence that led to Scott's backyard. I tried to land as quietly as I could, but still managed to tumble into the grass next to my purse. I grumbled as I climbed back to my feet, inspecting the new tear in my stockings.

"Smooth."

I yelped, spinning on the spot to find Isaac watching me with a smirk. His arms were folded over his chest as he leaned back on the fence. Some part of my brain reminded me that I should have been scared—he was here to kill, after all—but it was hard to be anything more than annoyed with Isaac. I narrowed my eyes at him as I picked up my purse and brushed the dead grass off the back of my skirt.

"What are you doing, Isaac?"

"Waiting for you," he answered casually. "I thought you guys were supposed to be good at this—sneaking around, keeping secrets. Stiles talking about how he's gonna sneak you in the back while there's four werewolves outside listening in? Not exactly the most airtight plan."

"Well, I see being a werewolf has really enhanced your sense of humor." I rolled my eyes and opened my purse, digging around inside. "What exactly do you think is gonna happen here, Isaac? I'm not letting you inside."

"No, but I'm thinking Stiles will when he sees we've got you captured."

"Captured?" I snorted, glancing up from my bag. "Now that's funny. Derek's not gonna hurt me, and if one of you does, I'm pretty sure he's gonna hurt you."

"Fair enough." Isaac chuckled as he pushed himself off the fence and ambled toward me. "I don't want to hurt you, Sadie, but just a heads up? I don't think that's gonna stop Erica from trying. I mean, she really doesn't like you."

"Ha, tell me something I don't know."

I headed for the back door, still rummaging in my purse. I kept my pace calm and casual, even as Isaac shadowed me with every step. When I stopped, he stopped too. I pursed my lips and turned around to glare at him in irritation.

"You're not getting past me, Isaac."

"Really?" He grinned and raised a hand full of claws. "Because I don't see how you're gonna stop me."

"I'm warning you. Don't."

"That sounds like a challenge, Bennet."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Have it your way."

Isaac only took two steps forward before I pulled my hand out of my purse, taser gun at the ready. I saw his eyes blow wide in surprise, but he'd already raised his arms to strike, spreading his leather jacket and giving me a clear shot at his chest. Before he could correct his mistake, I squeezed the trigger and shot him with a couple hundred volts of electricity.

Isaac's body shot ramrod straight and fell backward, twitching violently. I grappled blindly with the handle to the backdoor, my finger still on the trigger, but I knew I didn't have a lot of time. If I didn't hold the trigger long enough, Isaac would get right back up. If I didn't let go, Erica and Boyd were bound to come round the back to investigate the commotion.

I whined in frustration, released the cartridge, and bolted inside.

The moment I stepped through the door, I yelped and jumped back.

"Ah! God! It's me! It's just me!"

"Sadie!" Allison sighed and lowered her crossbow from my face. "God, where have you been?! We—"

"No time! Go, go, go!"

I slammed the door behind me, but Isaac was already getting to his feet. He ripped the wires from his chest and set his glare on the house, fangs bared. His golden eyes were glowing in the dim evening light, all traces of casualness long gone. Now, he looked pissed.

"Allison?"

"I got it." She repositioned herself in front of the door, crossbow leveled once more. "Do you think he—"

"Allison?!" There was a loud crash at the front of the house, and Stiles yelped in fear. "A little help?!"

"Go," Allison ordered me. "I'll hold him off."

My instinct was to argue, but I knew I had to trust her. Allison had years of training and a crossbow; she could handle one werewolf. Stiles was unarmed, and he was up against three.

I sprinted around the perimeter of the house, moving through the kitchen as fast as I could. Without pausing in my stride, I grabbed a large knife out of the butcher block and continued into the front hall.

It was easy to identify the problem: Stiles had his back up against the front door, frantically pushing it shut while Erica tried to force her way in. Pieces of wood were scattered on the floor around him, the remnants of a chair that had probably been barricading the door. Erica was giggling as she pushed on the door, and with her newfound strength, she was able to push Stiles slowly across the floor.

I didn't pause to think.

"Move!"

I pushed Stiles out of the way, and the door slammed open to its fullest extent. Erica was momentarily surprised, and I used that moment to swipe at her with the knife, kick her in the chest, and slam the door closed once more. It was so fast, I wasn't even sure if I'd caught her with the knife until I heard her cry out.

"Agh! The bitch fucking cut me!"

I leaned against the door just in time. Erica kicked the wood, and the whole wall seemed to swell in from the force of it. Stiles fell on the door next to me, trying in vain to keep it closed.

"Are you out of your mind?! A knife?!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I hissed. "I used my taser on Isaac and I was out of options!"

"So you decided to become a Final Girl?!"

"You're welcome!"

There was another bang, this time from two directions simultaneously. I felt the door bend behind me as Erica tried again to kick it in, and by the sound of it, Isaac had done the same to the back door.

"Allison?!" I called.

The only response was a series of grunts, impossible to identify with any level of certainty.

Stiles patted my arm and, without warning, went running out of the room. I wanted to yell at him again, but Erica was slamming her entire body against the door, and it was a lot harder to hold it closed on my own. I flipped the knife in my hand, closing my eyes so I wouldn't see the thin streak of blood along the edge. Erica would heal. If she got inside, Lydia wouldn't. If she pushed her arm inside, I could swing back and try to slice her again. Or I could time it, wait for her to charge and then turn around, and if I held the knife at just the right—

Someone grabbed my wrist and squeezed so hard that I screamed. The knife clattered to the floor and my back slammed into the door, Isaac's hand firmly around my throat. His grip wasn't tight enough to cut off my air, but it did end my scream, and ensure that there was nowhere else for me to go.

"I told you, Sadie," he said lowly, his nose nearly brushing mine. "I don't want to hurt you."

"That's too bad."

There was a deafening crack as Isaac's head was whipped from my line of vision. I screamed again and pressed my body further into the door as his body crumpled in front of me. Stiles was standing behind him, holding tight to a baseball bat.

"Because I really wanna hurt you," he finished, glaring down at Isaac's prone form before looking to me. "You okay?"

I didn't have the strength to say anything. I just nodded feebly as Allison came running into the room. Her crossbow, I realized, was missing. She skidded to stop before she could trip over Isaac and stared down at him in awe.

"What the hell happened?"

"It doesn't matter," Stiles dismissed, waving us up the stairs. "Go get Lydia! Hide, both of you! Go!"

Allison nodded and took the steps two at a time. Stiles had to grab my wrist and coax me into motion, helping me step over Isaac's legs and then shoving me up the stairs.

It didn't take long to find Lydia. She was standing in the hall upstairs, pressed to the wall and looking near tears. It looked like she'd heard the fighting and wanted to investigate, but couldn't will her legs to move any farther forward than halfway down the hall. She was positively terrified, and jumped when Allison and I came barreling around the corner.

"Get back," Allison ordered, warding Lydia back with her hands. "Someone's trying to break in, okay? Go. Lydia, go!"

Lydia nodded hurriedly and scurried through the door to Scott's room. I made to follow her, but doubled back when Allison moved back for the stairs.

"Wait! Ally, where—"

"I need my crossbow. If Isaac's down, then Erica's next, and then Boyd. I'll try and hold them off. Go stay with Lydia."

She was running back downstairs before I could argue. I hovered in the hallway, torn. I wanted to stay and fight, but once again, I was unarmed. I wanted to protect Lydia, but I didn't want to leave her alone. For now, I'd have to make myself the last line of defense.

I ran after her, slamming Scott's door closed behind me. I half expected Lydia to be hiding under the bed, but she was just standing in the middle of the room. She stared at the open window, her head tilted to the side in curiosity.

"Jackson…?"

"Jackson?" I repeated, baffled. "You were in here with Jackson?"

I'd almost forgotten I'd spoken to him earlier. Stiles hadn't mentioned him on the phone, and I hadn't seen any sign of him downstairs. I'd just assumed the jackass had decided not to come, like protecting Lydia wasn't worth his time. But for some reason, learning that he had come, that he'd been alone with Lydia, upstairs in Scott's bedroom, made me almost as mad as the idea that he'd abandoned us.

Another crash downstairs forced my mind back to the present.

"Never mind, just hide. Bathroom! Go!"

Lydia ducked through the door to Scott's bathroom, fumbling with her cell phone. I could hear her on the phone with the police, but I lingered in the bedroom, scanning the area for anything useful. No taser, no knife, no baseball bat, but I wasn't going to be left defenseless. I needed to do something.

At a loss, I grabbed the red and white guitar that was leaning against the window. It was an awkward weapon, and probably an expensive one, but it was heavy enough to cause a little bit of damage. I'd never even heard Scott talk about playing guitar before. If he was that upset about losing it, I would buy him a replacement…assuming we all made it through the semester alive.

I was about to join Lydia in the bathroom when something caught my eye: the window was wide open. I'd noticed before when Lydia had looked at it, but it hadn't really registered until now. If Lydia had been in here with Jackson, and Jackson wasn't here anymore, then where the hell had he gone? Had he seriously been so shallow as to book it the moment trouble had started? Was he so desperate to save his own skin that he'd climb out a window, escape from the roof, and leave Lydia for dead?

The realization should have made my blood boil, but it barely brought it to a simmer. An anxious feeling in my stomach was holding the rage at bay. I bent down to get a closer look at the windowsill, shining in the fading light of the day. The ledge was slick with a clear, syrupy liquid. Kanima poison.

I sprinted into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and fumbling with the lock. My fingers wouldn't cooperate. All my blood was rushing to my head as my mind raced a mile a minute.

Jackson had gotten the bite from Derek. Jackson wasn't a werewolf. Jackson had been here with Lydia. Jackson was gone. The kanima was here.

"Sadie?" Lydia grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the corner with her. "Sadie, what's happening? Please! Please tell me what's going on!"

But my mouth wouldn't cooperate either. It couldn't be Jackson. If it were Jackson, how could he have passed Derek's test? He was supposed to be immune, like Lydia. It couldn't be Jackson. Someone would have known if it were Jackson. Wouldn't Jackson have known if it were Jackson?

"Sadie!"

"What were you and Jackson doing?"

Lydia stopped short, her face a contorted mask of confusion and rage. "What?"

"You were in here with Jackson. What were you doing?"

"Sadie, you cannot be serious right now! Someone is trying to break—"

"Lydia! What were you doing?!"

"Talking!"

"Okay, talking about what?"

Lydia sighed, shaking her head. It couldn't have been more than a minute or two ago, but she already seemed to have trouble recalling the details. There was too much going on, too much adrenaline flooding her brain.

"He—he asked for his key back. And then—then he was yelling at me for tampering with some stupid video. For taking his moment or something."

"His moment? What the hell does that mean?"

"I don't know, Sadie! He—he was spewing all that full moon crap again and—"

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, my voice shaking with growing alarm. "He was accusing you of editing a video he took of himself on the full moon?"

"I told you, Sadie," she snapped. "I have no idea what he was talking about."

My mind picked up where it had left off. So Jackson had recorded himself on the full moon; that wasn't surprising. He'd gotten the bite from Derek and wanted to see what had happened to him in the night, to have proof for himself—conceited jerk—but apparently, he hadn't gotten what he wanted. From the sound of it, Jackson's tape was missing the one thing he wanted to see.

Jackson had gotten the bite from Derek. Jackson wasn't a werewolf. Jackson was convinced that he was something. Jackson had been here with Lydia. Jackson was gone. But the kanima was here.

The realization bubbled up to the surface, like searing acid in my stomach.

Jackson was the kanima.