"You did what?!"

Scott threw up his hands, looking nervously up and down the hallway. "Shh! It was the only thing we could think of to hold him!"

"A prison transport van?! Do you realize that's illegal?! Do you know how illegal that is?!"

"Yes! Yes, Sadie, I know it's illegal. You know what else is illegal? Murder! Which is what's gonna happen if we don't keep Jackson locked up."

"He has a point," Allison sighed, leaning her shoulder on the locker next to mine. "We can't keep him at Scott's house, because his mom could find him at call the sheriff. We can't keep him at Stiles's house, because his dad is the sheriff. Your mom is home twenty-four-seven, and if my family finds him, he's dead."

"I know," I groaned. "I know, it's just…this isn't something we're gonna get away with this time."

"You never know," Scott said with a weak smile. "Who's gonna think two teenage boys could get their hands on a prison transport van anyway?"

I gave him a pointed look and he deflated like an old party balloon.

"Okay, one problem at a time. Jackson's safe for now. Now will you please just take the coffee, Sadie?"

"No," I repeated, for what felt like the hundredth time. I glared at the offending cup in his hand. "I'm not going to take a coffee bribe sent by my stupid, completely idiotic, law-breaking, criminal boyfriend."

"Okay," he tried, turning on his puppy dog eyes. "What about your super nice, super apologetic, super worried-that-you-have-a-hangover boyfriend?"

"Hm. Not keen on acknowledging him either."

"Oh, just take the coffee, Sadie." Allison grabbed the cup and pushed it into my hands, giving me a fierce look. "Stiles is an idiot, but he's sorry. About Jackson, about Lydia, about everything. We all are. Just let him make it up to you."

I pursed my lips, staring down at the coffee. Stiles had texted me that morning, just like he'd promised he would, assuring me that he and Jackson were safe and the Scott would explain everything when he saw me at school. Apparently, before they'd split up last night, Stiles had pushed some money into Scott's hands and typed my coffee order into his phone—a shotty apology gift to get me through the day. But I knew he was trying.

I rolled my eyes and took a sip. I tried to stop myself from enjoying it, but Allison gave me a knowing smile all the same.

"I should go before anyone sees me. I'll talk to you later."

She stared at Scott for a moment, her lips trembling as her smile threatened to fall away.

It was awful to watch the two of them. Not because they were so grossly in love, but because it was almost painful that they couldn't be. I gladly would have taken third wheeling their dates and being uncomfortable as they made out next to me if it meant they didn't have to look so sad all the time. They stared at each other, memorizing each line and curve that they wouldn't be able to look at in class. It was like they wouldn't see each other again for eternity.

Finally, Allison seemed to gain the courage to separate herself. She mumbled another goodbye and slunk down the hallway, her head hanging low. Scott watched her dutifully until her back disappeared around the corner.

"This sucks," I said for him, shaking my head bitterly. "I mean, I get that you guys can't go out because it's a life or death situation for you, but in school? You guys should be able to talk to each other, at least a little bit. Who's gonna find out?"

"I don't know if you remember this, but her grandfather is the principal."

"Okay, fine, but Gerard is in the main office. You think he's got student scouts reporting to him every time you and Allison look at each other? Maybe there's a special unit of teachers he's deployed to write incident reports every time you pass in the hallway."

"Do you have to be so sarcastic about everything?"

"Well, if Stiles is skipping, someone's gotta pick up the slack."

Scott grinned as we headed down the hall together. "It's just better this way. I wouldn't put it pass Gerard to try something like that…or that…"

He stopped short was we rounded the corner. I followed his eyes across the hall, where a maintenance worker was up on a ladder. He was up in the corner, drill in hand, juggling a load of wires and screws. Then he shifted to the side, lifting up the security camera he was installing so it was clear for all to see.

"You've gotta be kidding me…"

"I really don't think so," Scott breathed. "You don't think these are all up yet, right?"

"I don't know, but I'm not taking any chances. Let's go."

I grabbed Scott's arm, tugging him in the opposite direction that Allison had walked. It would mean taking the long way to class, and maybe being late, but it was the lesser of the risks.

The Argents were taking things to a whole new level to get their intel. I wasn't sure what I was more worried about: them seeing Scott and Allison together, seeing Isaac and Erica acting out, seeing Lydia have an episode, seeing Jackson was missing, or just seeing all of us act normally, watching who we were friends with and who we cared about so they could manipulate us down the road. I could just imagine Gerard in his office, his fingers steepled like some crazed Bond villain as he scrolled through the video feed. He was probably wearing that creepy, calm smile, secure in his office as he watched us go about our business like rats in a maze.

The cameras multiplied throughout the day, cropping up at the end of every hallway, even in the cafeteria and the gym. It almost felt like the maintenance man was following me, but that might've been more paranoia. Still, I wouldn't have been surprised if he turned out to be a hunter too, storing wolfsbane bullets right next to his drywall screws.

I fidgeted the whole day, the prickly feeling of being watch making me want to crawl out of my skin. I had to stop myself from checking my phone every five minutes. I wanted to check for an update on Jackson, to warn everyone about the new security measures, but I knew I couldn't text Allison anyway. Her family monitored her texts. They'd immediately know that we had something to hide, and then they'd be calling us in to ask why we were so jumpy and nervous about her good ol' grandpa keeping a close eye on us.

And then, it happened anyway.

"Miss Argent," Harris called across the silent lab. "The principal would like to see you in the office."

There was the usual chorus of giggling from the other students, and I watched Allison freeze. Her head twitched, ready to look at Scott and I for direction, but she caught herself just in time. She nodded, scooping up her books and heading out of the room. I wanted to share a look with Scott too, but I didn't dare. Not with Harris's eyes scanning the classroom like a hawk, pink slip in his beak and ready to swoop down on any of us at the slightest sign of trouble. No. The best I could do was close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath. Jackson was locked up. Lydia was unsettlingly normal. Scott and Allison hadn't so much as looked at each other since first period. Everything was fine.

Apparently, everything was not fine. The bell rang and Allison still hadn't returned to class. I didn't see her until I was almost through the door of our next. She came speed walking down the hall toward me, clearly trying to restrain herself as her hair whipped behind her. I glanced around, giving a quick look to the nearest security camera. Technically speaking, there was no rule against Allison and I talking to each other, but after everything I'd done, I knew the Argents weren't please about our friendship. I was starting to wonder if maybe I should be avoiding her too.

Allison grabbed my arm before I could argue and pulled me into class, her face tight with worry. "We have a huge problem."

"What? What did he want?"

She ushered me into the seat behind Scott and then rushed to sit in her own seat across from me. She glanced around, assuring herself that no one in class really cared who she was talking to, then leaned forward over her desk.

"Scott. Scott!"

I tapped him on the shoulder for her, but before he could turn around, the door to the classroom slammed shut.

For a moment, it felt like my heart had stopped in my chest, just a rock suspended their by the rest of my muscles. Scott probably felt worse. And if that's how we felt, I could only imagine how Allison took it when she saw her mother at the front of the classroom.

"I'm afraid your teacher was feeling ill today and had to leave early. So unfortunately, you're stuck with me as a substitute. Can anyone catch me up on where we are?"

Mrs. Argent gave a benevolent smile, dagger sharp eyes dragging across every face until they landed on Scott. The smile vanished and, if I didn't know better, I would have thought she was trying to strangle him with her mind. Thankfully, I did know better, so I knew she was probably just planning how to strangle him later.

"Mr. McCall? How about you?"

Scott remained speechless, but eventually managed to nod his head. He pulled his binder out of his bag, excessively clearing his throat before he flipped through his notes to find our last lesson.

"Oh, Sadie," Mrs. Argent added, making my head snap up. "Would you mind being our class scribe today? Chalk has never agreed with my skin, and I do hate getting my hands dirty."

My jaw clenched without my consent, and I could see her smile stretch wider across her face.

"Of course," I answered stiffly.

"Wonderful. Then you can stay up here with me for the rest of class."

I held in my sigh, even though it felt like my chest was about to explode. I couldn't even look at Scott or Allison. The deliberate measures to make sure the three of us couldn't talk to each other were obvious, but there was nothing we could do. If any of us stepped out of line, getting detention would be the least of our problems.

Mrs. Argent's plan worked like a charm. She kept her eyes glued to Scott and her daughter for the entire class, and kept me up at the board for the duration of the period. The moment the bell rang, I dropped the chalk and walked to my desk as fast as respectfully possible. I only dared to glance at Allison for about half a second before I scooped up my things. I grabbed Scott and ushered him out of the room ahead of me. I could feel Mrs. Argent's smirk on my back as we fled, pleased to see us so fearful. I wanted to prove that we were a force all our own, but I knew it wasn't the time. Right now, I had to keep as much distance between my friends and the murderous hunters as possible.

Any semblance of calm I had managed to compose evaporated after that. I couldn't even tell you what I was supposed to have learned in school. My eyes stared glued to my purse, waiting to hear the faint whirring sound of a vibration that might mean news from Stiles or Allison. But nothing happened until the final bell rang.

Lydia gave me a strange look as I pounced on my purse, ripping it open to seize my phone and read my newest message.

"You, Lydia and I are still studying tonight, right? Do you want to grab some food before we start?"

Allison and I obviously had no plans of studying, but Lydia had become our excuse for virtually everything. It was becoming pretty stressful, trying to keep our grades up to par with the amount of "studying" we were doing.

"Sounds good. I'll meet you in the parking lot. Toby's? Please please please!"

"So is Stiles asking for sex or is there another fake break in somewhere?"

Lydia tossed her hair over her shoulder, walking down the hallway just fast enough that it was hard for me to keep up.

"Neither," I said with a frown. "Allison and I were thinking about getting together to study because yesterday didn't work out."

"Well, if you're not going to tell me what that really means, keep your freaky little study session the hell away from me. I don't need two consecutive nights of trauma, thank you."

"Lydia—"

She was already storming off, stomping down the hall without even a glance behind her. It killed me to know she was so mad at me. It killed me to know that she was right for being so mad at me. But it also killed me to admit that I didn't have time to think about it, let alone fix it. Stiles was right: she had really, really bad timing.

Someone grabbed a hold of left arm, nearly knocking me over as they dragged me down the hall.

"Walk and smile."

"Allison, what's—"

"Cameras," she hissed through her teeth. It was strange to process that warning while Allison was smiling so brightly at me, but I did my best to grin back at her. "I'll explain on the way."

Allison steered us through the crowded hallways and into the parking lot. I was half-dragged to her car, then unceremoniously shoved toward the passenger side as she scrambled to get to the driver's seat. I did my best to throw our things in the back, avoiding her flying elbows as she patted herself down for her keys and started the engine. My hands barely grazed my seatbelt before the car was lurched forward, hurtling out of the parking lot and narrowly avoiding a few collisions.

"Allison, calm down! What's—"

"We don't have time. Call Scott."

"Why?"

"Because they know that Jackson's missing."

That knocked any and all of the words out of my mouth. I pulled my phone out immediately, dialed Scott's number, and put the call on speaker, all before I'd really had a chance to process what was going on.

"Are you okay?"

"They know Jackson's missing," Allison called, her eyes glued to the road as she slid through a stop sign.

"W-what?! Who?! Who is 'they'?!"

"Everyone! His parents, my parents, the police, Gerard! The police called the school and Gerard pulled me out of class to interrogate me about it."

"Well what did you say?" I asked.

Allison gave me a sharp look. "Nothing, obviously. I said I didn't know anything about it."

"And did he believe you?"

"…No."

I head Scott sigh, and the noise warped on the call, like he'd pulled the phone away and back again. "How could they have even found out?"

"I don't know," Allison said, shaking her head at the windshield, "but it means that we have a lot less time to figure out what to do with Jackson. We need to find out how to stop him, and fast."

"I don't know if stopping him's even gonna be possible. Derek practically tore him to bits in the club, and that was after your dad emptied a magazine into his chest. He just jumped right back up."

"There's gotta be something in the bestiary," I suggested. "Some sort of supernatural stop to it, right?"

"I don't know. All Ms. Morrell had time to translate was that the kanima is a shifter and it's looking for a friend."

"Well if he's looking for a friend, why does he keep trying to kill all the ones he's got?!" I snapped.

"Well he can't kill anyone right now," Scott pointed out. "Danny's still at the hospital. I can go talk to him and ask if he can think of any reason Jackson might…you know…be ready to kill him."

"Sadie and I are gonna go find Stiles. We've gotta get Jackson as far out of the way as possible."

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan. We took him to the preserve."

"Wow, that's not vague at all. Thanks, Scott."

Allison gave me a sharp look, and I could practically feel Scott's eyeroll through the phone. I sank back in my seat.

"Sorry. Picking up the slack."

Scott gave us the directions we needed to find Stiles on the preserve and Allison stepped on the gas. To be honest, I'm not sure I'd ever been so scared of her. Forget the bow and arrow; her weapon of choice should have been her affordable, four-door sedan.

I held onto the handle in the ceiling as we went hurtling through bushes, trees, and dead leaves. There was a bit of a path from where the transport van had driven before us, but not enough in my opinion.

Finally, we were able to find Stiles. It might have been harder, except that the bright blue Jeep stuck out against the brown expanse of dead foliage. The car skidded to a stop and I was out on solid ground as fast as physically possible. We hurried across the clearing, circling the van until—

"Argh!" Stiles jumped about a foot in the air when he saw us, falling back against the hood of the van. "Oh my God—"

"They know," said Allison, cutting off any complaint he might have.

"W-what?"

"They know Jackson's missing!"

"No, they can't," Stiles argued. He held up Jackson's phone as proof. "I've been texting his parents since last night. They don't have a clue."

"Let me see that." I peered over his shoulder, watching as he scrolled through the various messages he'd sent over the last few hours. And then I grabbed the phone from his hands. "Wha—what the hell were you thinking?!"

"What?! I—clearly that kidnapped people can't text their parents! What's wrong?!"

"This sounds nothing like Jackson," I groaned, flicking through text after awfully scripted text. "I mean, did you even think to look at the way he usually talks? No wonder they're freaking out!"

"Woah, hey, nothing is that bad," he said, glaring reproachfully and snatching the phone back. "Look, it just says, 'stayed at a friend's house last night. Everything fine. Love you.' What's so wrong with that?"

"Does Jackson strike you as an 'I love you' kind of person?"

Stiles looked at me blankly, his eyes flicking between me, Allison, and the van. "N-no, but—but it's his parents. I mean that—that can't have…seriously?"

"Listen, it doesn't matter," Allison snapped. "My grandfather told me his parents to the police. They know."

Stiles froze, slowly looking down to gaze at the cell in his hand with the utmost horror. He held it between two of his fingers and began hopping from foot to foot.

"Oh…!"

He shoved the phone into Allison's hands and stumbled toward the van, fumbling with the passenger door and yanking it open. Allison and I crowded behind him listening intently as he grabbed the dispatch radio from the dashboard.

"All available units proceed to Beacon Hills Preserve as instructed. Proceed with caution until Sheriff Stilinski's arrival. Repeat. Proceed with caution."

"Oh fuck," Stiles muttered. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Okay, um…" He stood up, patting his pockets down and pulling out a set of keys. "Sadie, you're driving Jackson."

"What?! No!"

"What?! Yes! We don't have time to—"

"Stiles, I am not driving the stolen prison transport van with the stolen teenage shapeshifter inside! You stole them! You can drive them!"

"I can't! Allison has to take her car, and I have to drive the Jeep!"

"Well why the hell do you have the Jeep if you have the van?!"

Stiles stared at me in disbelief, his eyes twitching. "Because I wasn't going to leave my very distinctive, blue Jeep at the station parked next to the place where I stole a goddamn transport van! 'Hm, I wonder who could have stolen this van!' 'Maybe it was the idiot who left his car right next to the crime scene!'"

"Guys!" Allison shouted. "We have to go!"

"Yes!" Stiles yelled back. "Gimme that."

He plucked Jackson's phone out of her hands and began tapping furiously at the screen. I heard the low ringing as he started a call, then he chucked the phone through the trees and into the bushes.

"See? So Sadie, you are gonna take these keys, and you are going to follow me, and Allison's going to follow you, and hopefully, none of us will get arrested!" He forced the keys into my hand, closed my fingers around them, and pressed a swift kiss to my cheek. "I'm sorry! Honestly! Just follow me!"

I groaned, stomping in frustration as he and Allison both fled to their own vehicles. I really needed to get my own car.

I clambered into the van, almost whining in fear as my eyes took in the various buttons and switches on the dashboard. We were going to get in so much trouble for this. I turned off the police scanner to ease my nerves, which had almost no effect, and tried not to cringe as I started the engine. God, we were going to get in so much fucking trouble for this.

We took a convoluted path through the woods. Stiles would probably say he was trying to shake the police off our tails, though I was pretty sure he simply didn't know where he was going. I'd never stopped to think about just how much woodland surrounded our little town. In a place where there were abandoned railcars, sprawling industrial districts, and more clubs than should probably be allowed, it was easy to forget that Beacon Hills was still pretty far off the map.

Eventually, we reached what Stiles must have considered our final destination. It was the very edge of the forest, with enough trees for cover, but few enough for us to park. Opposite the trees, there was…nothing. Just the open air stretching down for miles along the rocky cliff we were parked on. It looked out over the land—the houses, the hills, the trees, and as more clouds rolled in overhead, the first glimpses of street lamps and lit windows in the town below. Even with my heart beating a thousand times a minute from the adrenaline, it was a beautiful site.

Scott arrived just a few minutes after we did. It was infuriating to see that he was hardly out of breath. I'd sweat more driving the stolen van than he had running through miles and miles of woods. But that was the perk of being a werewolf. Stiles had called him from the car so they could come up with a new plan, which essentially amounted to driving deeper into the forest and taking turns watching over Jackson. Whoever wasn't stopping him from escaping would work on finding a way to stop him, convince him of his condition, or understand what was happening. Basically, anything that might take us even half a step closer to solving our problems than we were now.

"So Danny said he was recovering a video for Jackson," Scott explained as we stood together in the clearing. "It was mostly just like…him in bed on the night of the full moon, but apparently a section got cut out, which probably shows him turning into the kanima."

"That's why he was yelling at Lydia," I added. "He thought she was the one who snuck in and messed with the footage."

"Well if it wasn't Lydia, is there any way to find out who it was?" asked Stiles, but Scott was already shaking his head.

"Danny said they didn't have a clue. The best he could do was recover the missing part of the clip, which he had running on his tablet, which he left in his car at the club."

"Don't tell me the cops took it," Allison groaned.

"Better," Scott said bitterly. "I went to check it out? Someone broke into Danny's car. Tablet was totally gone. So, no footage and no convincing Jackson that he's the kanima."

"Great," I scoffed, folding my arms over my chest. "So now it could be anywhere."

"I don't think so. It wasn't like someone just saw the tablet and smashed the window. Nothing else was missing. I think whoever took it wanted something pretty specific."

"Like the footage of his transformation," Allison followed. "You mean, like Jackson? Could that be why he went to the club yesterday?"

"I don't know. But if Jackson doesn't remember being the kanima, he's definitely not gonna remember stealing Danny's tablet."

Stiles let out an irritated sigh. "Why would he steal the thing if he doesn't even know what's on it?"

"Because he knows that something's on it," I countered. "If nothing happened, then no one would have gone through the trouble of editing the clip. If it were me, I'd want to know too."

"Okay, but then where did he put it?" Stiles asked. "He definitely didn't have it on him when we found him. Remember? When he was naked?"

"What if someone else took it?" asked Allison.

"Then somebody else knows what he is."

"Which means someone could be protecting him," Scott offered.

Allison nodded. "Like the bestiary says, 'the kanima seeks a friend,' right?"

"Okay, hold on," said Stiles, squinting as his brain fought to keep up. "So somebody watches Jackson make a video of himself turning into the kanima, and then just erases part of the video so he wouldn't know?"

"And when he gets too close," I added, "breaks into his best friend's car to steal the footage again. So someone really doesn't want Jackson to know what's happening to him."

"So who would do that?" Stiles asked.

"Someone who wanted to protect him?" Allison suggested, making me snort.

"Who would do that?"

Allison gave me an unimpressed look, but I brushed it off. I felt it was a valid point: Jackson might have been one of the most popular boys in school, but he had a short list of friends, a list that had been growing shorter since he decided to pursue the bite. The list of people who liked Jackson enough to get into his house, edit his video, set it back up again, find out Danny had recovered the footage, break into his car, and steal his tablet just so no one—including Jackson—would know he was the kanima had to be pretty small. And that was without factoring in the fact they had the ability to do all of that without getting caught.

"There's something else," said Scott, calling our attention back. "You said the only thing you found online about the kanima is that it goes after murderers. What if that's actually true?"

"No, it can't be," Stiles argued. "Tried to kill all of us, remember? I don't know about you, but I haven't murdered anyone lately."

"But I—I don't think it was actually trying to kill us," Scott disagreed. "The night of the full moon, it ran right past me. And it didn't kill you or Sadie at the mechanic's garage."

"Well, yeah, but it tried to kill all of us in the pool."

"Did it?"

"It would've! It was waiting for us to come out!"

"What if it was trying to keep you in?"

"Then it was killing us inadvertently," I said, rolling my eyes. "We would've stayed there until we got too tired and drowned. If it didn't want to hurt us, it could have just left."

"If it was trying to kill everyone, why didn't it kill Erica?" Allison countered. "You said she was knocked out on the ground, right?"

"Because she was already unconscious! Erica wasn't a threat."

"But you were," Scott reasoned. "You had your gun at the pool and at the mechanic. Sadie, you've gone up against it three times and walked away. I don't think that's an accident."

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Scott had a point. The pool was one thing, if the kanima couldn't swim, but the other two times…

At the autobody shop, the kanima had plenty of chances to kill me. Stiles and the mechanic had both been paralyzed, but the kanima never even came near me. It had hissed threateningly when I tried to interfere, but it that was it. It easily could have attacked me while it was waiting for the Jeep to finish the job with the mechanic. It easily could have killed me after it threw me across the room. Instead it had just…left.

And last night, the kanima had paralyzed a dozen people in a matter of seconds. Even Danny had been taken out before I'd known what was happening. Then I'd turned around and I was face to face with the kanima. It hadn't paralyzed me, or clawed at me, or even knocked me over. It just stood there, staring at me so intently, I could almost see Jackson underneath.

That posed an interesting question: if Jackson didn't know he was the kanima, did the kanima know it was Jackson?

"Why do I feel so violated all of a sudden?" Stiles asked, shaking his whole body out and scrunching up his face.

"Because there's something else going on," Scott replied. "We don't know what it is. We don't know anything about Jackson, or why someone's protecting him—"

"Know thy enemy…" All three of us turned to look at Allison. She was looking out over the cliff, a far off look in her eye. When she realized we were watching her, she shook her head. "Just something my grandfather said."

"Alright, I got it," Stiles offered. "Kill Jackson. Problem solved."

Allison and Scott both gave him pointed looks, and he held his arms out to the side.

"He risked his life for us," Scott argued. "Against Peter, you remember that?"

"Yes, but what did we just find out? He got the bite from Derek. It's funny how he just got exactly what he wanted by supposedly risking his life for us. It's funny!"

"Fair point," I said with a shrug. "I also seem to remember him threatening to tell everyone you were a werewolf because he was sad he wasn't the best on the lacrosse team anymore, and refusing to help when Lydia disappeared from the hospital, and not calling the cops when he found out Isaac was being abused, because he doesn't actually give two shits about people if he's not getting something out of it."

"He helped us save Lydia," Allison reminded me. "He didn't have to do that, but he helped us protect her."

"And then he turned into a giant lizard!"

"It doesn't mean he's not still worth saving," said Scott.

"It's always something with him, though," Stiles sighed, glaring reproachfully at the van.

"He doesn't know what he's doing."

"So what?"

"So, I didn't either!" Scott said emphatically. Stiles stamped on the ground in frustration, and Scott turned pleadingly to Allison. "Do you remember when I almost killed you and Jackson?"

She nodded softly, and he turned back to us.

"All the times I almost hurt one of you? I had someone to stop me. I had you guys to stop me. He has nobody."

"You know what? That's his own fault," I snapped. "He was the one who decided being the best was more important than having a life. He's the one who decided he'd be so much better off without a girlfriend, or friends, or teammates. He's a manipulative asshole who doesn't care about anyone else. So no one cares about him."

"You know that's not true," Scott said softly.

He gave me a probing look and I had to turn away. Again, Scott had a point. I knew Danny would be distraught if Jackson died. I thought of Mr. and Mrs. Whittemore, forever wondering what had happened and if they'd done something wrong. And Lydia…Lydia would be absolutely destroyed.

"If we can save him," Scott went on, "we have to try."

"How are we gonna do that?" Stiles folded his arms over his chest, increasingly grumpier. "We don't know how to translate the bestiary, we can't go to Derek because he'll swoop in and bite Jackson's head off, and I promise you, there's no convincing him that he's the kanima. I've been talking to him all day, unfortunately. He's not gonna believe any of us."

Allison tilted her head in thought. "He might believe one of us."

It took a few seconds for me to realize what she'd said. I was too busy planning my next speech about how we should be asking Lydia to translate the bestiary. She'd be enraged with all of us for lying, but she'd do it for Jackson. She'd do anything if we told her it meant saving him. I was about to say just that when I realized that all three sets of eyes had landed on me, waiting for my answer to a question I hadn't been asked.

"I'm sorry, what?" I looked over my shoulder at the van, then back to the group. "No. No, I'm not talking to him. You put me in there there's a better chance I'll end up killing him than convincing him."

"Sadie, you're the best chance we've got," Scott pleaded, but I was still shaking my head.

"I don't know what you're on, but Jackson doesn't give two shits about what I have to say. Just because I'm friends with Lydia—who is his ex-girlfriend that he treats like shit in case you've forgotten—that doesn't mean he cares about what I think. He never has, and he never will."

"You know that's not true," Allison said this time.

"He came to you when he overheard Isaac and Erica," Scott offered. "He thought Lydia was in danger, and he knew that you would be able to do something about it. That's gotta count for something."

I stubbornly pursed my lips together, ready to dig in my heels until the end of time. But then Stiles sighed beside me.

"I know you don't like him, but…right now, you're the closest thing to a friend he's got."

I looked over at him in despair. That was a bad sign and a half; if Stiles wasn't fighting tooth and nail to keep me away from the murderous werelizard, I figured we must truly have no other options.

I wasn't sure if Jackson had ever really considered me a friend, but we'd been almost close once. We'd had all summer getting to know each other, lacrosse parties, beach trips with Lydia and Danny. I still remembered the way he'd stood up to Dylan when he got handsy with me at Lydia's party. He'd talked to me after the video store, lost and confused about what was happening, and again when he'd found out the truth but wasn't sure how much I knew. Things had gotten…rough between us after he dumped Lydia. I hated him for it, with every fiber of my being. But I could still remember what it was like to be his friend.

I sighed and let my friends coax me over to the van. I frowned petulantly as Stiles opened the door for me and, with one final huff, climbed inside.