The truck's door closing thud echoed loudly as Theo turned towards the McCall house, hands disappearing into his pockets and heaviness already settling on his shoulders. Everyone else was already there. Their lingering chemotrails clung to the driveway, souring the air with anxiety and worry. Theo groaned, leaning against his truck, letting his head fall back. Inside was bound to be even more chaotic than the mess of signals hitting him, and he was decidedly not looking forward to it.

Somehow, they seemed more frantic than they were eight hours ago. Being alpha-less was not a good look for the pack's emotional stability.

With another long groan, he pushed himself off the vehicle, fishing for his keys and locking the doors before turning back to the house. This is going to be fun. He nodded to himself, taking a deep breath, attempting to settle the restless pit in his stomach. There were three people that trusted him in a pack that numbered into the twenties, maybe thirties by now. Three, and he was down to only two potentially being present, though the likelihood of Corey being there, in the thick of all the chaos, if he absolutely didn't have to be was slim to none.

One foot on the first step and all the anxious chatter inside went quiet. A quirked eyebrow was the only disturbance across his face as he continued up the steps, paying close attention to the grumblings and shuffling inside the house.

His arrival shouldn't have shut down all their conversations. Obviously, he knew better than to expect a positive reaction from all of them, but he had hoped for something that didn't rival the arctic tundra, at least. He was here to help, after all. That was really all he did anymore. Work odd jobs around town for anyone that needed an extra set of hands doing anything, drive wayward puppies to and from school or practice or games in exchange for gas money, and help the damn pack. That was it. The sum total of his life the last two years.

Stiles' grumpy mumblings reached through the walls as he groaned and stopped at the top step. More hushed grumbles and a resounding growl from Malia filtered out, cutting off as Stiles opened the door, familiar battle bat in hand and glinting under the porch light. With Scott missing, the Pack-mom was in charge, which made it all the stranger that they had allowed Mason to invite him. Unless…

"What are you doing here?" Stiles lifted his bat, resting the end on his shoulder. "Scratch that. I don't care. This is a Pack meeting. For Pack only. No unhelpful, murderous omegas." He started to turn and head back inside when he twisted around, sneering, "How did you find out about this anyway?"

"I called him," Mason piped up from behind, hand raising over the heads of the pack's taller members.

Though he reeked of nerves, Mason slid forward, somehow positioning himself between Theo and Stiles. It was by no means a new sight, yet an uneasy feeling swamped the chimera, as it did every time Mason did this. Sure, he and Lydia always came out unscathed, but the way he held his ground as the other human spluttered and spazzed seemed near suicidal to Theo.

Stiles almost made him laugh as he croaked out, "Wh- Why?"

"Because we need him." Theo stiffened as Mason stepped back, putting a hand on his shoulder, shaking it a little. "We're missing Scott and Liam, our two strongest. We need help."

The pack's second braced like a wall in the doorway, raising his bat, pointing it at Theo's chest, eyes narrowing as his upper lip twitched. Theo dipped his head, acknowledging the display for what it was: a threat. Nothing new there.

"Listen to the younger you. He's got a point. Let him in," Lydia said, her voice muffled, reaching from somewhere in the house.

Before the spluttering spazz could recover or be joined by Malia, Mason jerked Theo forward, attempting to drag him into the house in the most ungraceful manner. They were thwarted when Stiles, again, pointed his bat towards them, specifically the center mass of Theo's chest, lip twitching up and eyes harder than before. In that moment, he looked as much an alpha as Scott with his red eyes and fangs. Theo's own lip gave a single irritated twitch as he forced himself to turn his head half a degree to the side.

Only then did Stiles grudgingly lower his bat and spin on his heel, twirling his free hand over his head. "Where were we?"

The rest of the pack filtered back into whatever spot they had come from, leaving him and Mason standing on the porch. Beside him, the younger shifted, angling toward the door and jabbing a thumb at it.

"You coming in?" he asked quietly, attempting the illusion of privacy despite both of them knowing that everyone inside the house was paying rapt attention to them.

Sighing, Theo half-shrugged, gesturing to the open door and interior beyond it, "Doesn't seem like I'm wanted."

The resounding growl that rose, likely from Malia to drive home how correct his statement was, didn't faze either of them. A quick admonishment from Lydia effectively put an end to it.

Mason started to grin as he said, "When has that ever stopped you before?"

A low growl rose in Theo's chest as he narrowed his eyes. The grin was all too impish, like the bearer knew that phrasing was exactly how to get under his skin. That was a trick question. Before hell, he gave zero shits about who wanted him where. He went where he needed to get things done, crossing whatever lines he had to, doing whatever to and with whoever to get the job done. Nothing was off limits or weird or awkward back then.

Nowadays, though, he tried to avoid places the pack gathered unless invited. There were only so many times he could tolerate getting stabbed in the hand just for existing near them. His sorely depleted bank account was another reason. Replacing jeans and shirts was too pricey for the werecoyote to keep ruining them. He shook his head, slow and sweeping, as he dropped his hand, letting it smack against his leg.

He was going to regret this. It was inevitable. He knew it, his wolf did, his coyote, too. Yet, he still nodded, sighing all the while. Some things were worth doing, even if they sucked absolute ass. He followed Mason as the teen turned and stepped over the threshold, jabbing at his shoulder once, pulling confused eyes back towards him.

"I come out of this with a broken nose, I'm not answering next time you call."

As Mason nodded, mouth opening to answer, Stiles growled, all human but no less threatening, pulling both their heads around to him, and the others, in the living room.

"Shut up, Raeken," Stiles snapped from his chair clear across the house, eyes glued to the book on his lap. "You may not care about this pack, but some of us are trying to save our missing members."

"Stiles…" Lydia chided, smacking his arm.

A thin smile cracked the neutral face Theo had managed to keep in place as the banshee scolded her friend. He was allowed to be a little petty, so sue him. The guy made his life hell for a year for no other reason than he could. Okay, maybe the very justified grudge was a factor too. Theo narrowed his eyes. All he wanted after Monroe first slipped away was to exist and the constant watching over his shoulder, despite Stiles leaving for DC not long after, had been excessive.

Mason once more, because apparently everyone in the pack had a death wish, put himself between Stiles and Theo. "Scott trusted him-"

"Yeah," the older human huffed. "Scott trusted him the first time too."

Stiles glared at him for a moment, amber eyes burning, before sweeping his gaze out over the accumulated pack. Theo held his bristling animals at bay, pointedly ignoring the coyote and its thoughts on ripping into their current annoyance's jugular.

"Did no one see how he blew right through the battle, ignored all of us?" He snapped the book in his hands closed the book over his fingers, jabbing it in Theo's direction as he stepped around the table. "What were you running to, huh?"

Theo's gums and nailbeds itched at the challenging tone, claws and fangs at the ready, courtesy of the near-rabid wailing snarls ricocheting in his head. Keeping them sheathed was difficult enough without the hard stares now digging into him, further irking the animals. One day, they were going to learn that provoking a wild animal was ill-advised, and he could only hope he was there to see it, because it sure as hell was not going to be him teaching that lesson.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to wrangle his inner wolf, pushing it back, forcing it to submit as it was the easier of the two.

"Like I told you and Scott," he said, keeping his voice relaxed, free of the venom he desperately wanted to lace his words with, I was on Liam's trail. It ran right through where you all were."

The itch grew as Stiles rolled his eyes, muttering, "Likely story."

Prickling turned into a sliver-like ache. Despite Theo's attempts to keep his animals leashed and his frustrations boxed up, all of it was edging closer and closer to his boiling point. Malia was still glaring daggers at him, though intermittently now as she returned to her task at the table, conveniently sat so she was on Stiles' other side, back also pointed towards a wall.

He nudged Mason to the side, clearing the surrounding space. It had been years since his wolf felt this out of control, and if Stiles kept pushing, he didn't want anyone between them; least of all the one person who wanted him there. His wolf bristled at the thought while the coyote pondered it.

The hairs on his neck stood up as Theo clenched his jaw. This wasn't the time to fight. He forced the instinctual animal back, again. It never liked being controlled, but he needed the damn thing to play along for now, just a little, just long enough. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he smoothed down the hair, trying to physically force his body to release the tension despite how unsafe simply standing among them felt.

"Did you find the end of it?" Lydia asked, her tone at least pretending to be neutral. Her pulse skipping was the only thing that gave her away.

"Yeah," he forced out, hoping no one noticed the tips of the fangs pressing into his lips. He shook his head briskly before clearing his throat. "A group of hunters guarding a van. There was a bloody heavy-duty animal crate in it. They were for extraction once they caught Scott."

Lydia pursed her lips. "How do y-"

"Someone radioed it in they had him and the van left as I got there," Theo said plainly, cutting her off before Stiles could accuse him of anything.

He was far more curt and clipped than he meant to be, but it was far from his fault. The pack grated on his nerves normally, let alone when there was no Liam or Scott to buffer out the animosity. More than that, being the center of focus, all their eyes on him, was making his skin crawl. It didn't matter that one of the pairs was Mason, someone who wanted him there, it all was adding up to being thoroughly overwhelming and unwelcome. The putrid intensity of the distrust overwhelming the air mixing with Malia's outright vehemence was not helping. It was only from a few of the people scattered around the dining room, but it was enough to saturate the unmoving air. Desperation and sadness were the opposite of hard to cover up.

"So, you were useless, is what you're saying," said Stiles, turning to go back to his seat.

"Seriously?" Mason huffed.

"Yes! He hasn't said one helpful thing since he's been here." Stiles turned to Theo; eyes set in a glower and burning once again. "Your information isn't useful, and neither are you because we don't trust you."

"I know!" Theo growled, his eyes prickling as they flashed. Inhaling again, he swallowed back the frustration and anger, but it was too late.

Both his animals were howling again, tearing at the ropes he used to lash them down, wearing his hold on them down little by little. The coyote bristled at every word out of Stiles' mouth, and he had half a mind to give into it and snap the guy's neck. It would be satisfying, that was for sure, but also damning. The only reasons he resisted at all were Mason and Liam. Corey too technically since the chameleon was attached to Mason. And Lydia. Crossing the banshee was right at the top of Theo's list of dumb ways to die. Four reasons, then.

"I know," he sighed, trying to smooth the irritation from his voice. "I'm not asking you to."

Stiles clapped his hands together, turning back to the rest of the pack. "Good, now that's all cleared up-"

"The van that took both of them was at the Preserve's east parking lot," Theo sniped, putting both hands in his pants pockets, and taking a step towards the door. "Liam wasn't in the van, but his scent trail led there. That has to be where they loaded him."

Lydia slowly stood, mouthing to herself as she tilted her head and looked over the table. "Stiles, do you have a map of the area around the Preserve?"

"A few," he shrugged, looking as though he was counting how many he had in his head.

"Get them. Now," Lydia ordered, sitting back down.

Stiles nodded, flailing around as he spun, pausing to glare at Theo before running out of the room. Several loud thumps resonated through the house's walls as he tripped up the stairs and slammed into what sounded like the door. Theo rolled his eyes, snorting quietly as he caught the tail end of Lydia's own eyeroll. Coordination was not a skill anyone would ever say Stiles had been endowed with in any reasonable measure. A curious crease furrowed the banshee's eyebrows as she stared intently at the table. He had a feeling she wasn't looking at the scattered papers.

All their heads jerked to the stairs as Stiles came fumbling down, crashing into the wall, rolled maps almost leaping from his arms. It was comical, watching him try to avoid dropping any as he made his way to the table, bumping unceremoniously into a half-pulled out chair.

"What're you looking for, Lyds?" he asked, dropping them onto the table.

"Wherever their base is, the east entrance is the most convenient access point for them." Lydia smoothed a map over the surface, scanning it, before pointing to the parking lot.

Malia's face scrunched before she asked, "And that matters why?"

"Well, if you had angry, unconscious werewolves in your trunk, would you go farther than necessary when transporting them or take the easiest, most direct route?"

A spark of understanding lit in Theo's head, an impressed half-smile tugging at his lips as he nodded. This pack really would be lost without its banshee, who clearly had received the lion's share of the brain cells meant for the entirety of the Beacon Hills late-teens and early-twenties population.

"Direct," Malia answered with a sharp nod.

"Right. No unnecessary risk." Lydia smiled, tapping the map. "So, if we apply that here," she said slowly, moved her finger across the paper, following the roads, "that means their hideout is somewhere off the roads from this exit."

"Lots of roads branch off near that lot," Stiles said, looking at another, smaller map.

"The majority continue to the east or northeast directions, but they end relatively quick, except for…" Lydia scanned it again, biting her lip as her eyes flicked over the page, almost faster than Theo could see. "Two. Just two roads that continue long enough to lead somewhere viable for them to have a facility."

"Meaning?" Malia looked between the banshee and Stiles, brows knotted in tight furrows and mouth hanging partly open.

"It means, we've got a more refined area to search," Lydia said, grinning, turning to look at everyone else.

"Ohhh!" Malia's face immediately lit up, though when her eyes flicked towards him, her snarl swamped all the excitement.

With a huff, she pulled out her phone and started texting. Presumably, she was letting Isaac and Derek, who was in South America again, know about the developments. From them, the rest of the pack, the out-of-town elements included, would be in the loop soon enough. Letting out a slow breath, Theo leaned into the wall, half-smiling. He managed to be helpful, which had calmed the wolf and itching in his skin.

"Where was this information last night?" Stiles asked, staring at Theo as though he was currently strangling a puppy.

Theo's smile twitched into a thick scowl. He was so very tired of being on the receiving end of those glares, especially when he absolutely did not deserve them. They asked him to help fight, so he did. They wanted to know what he knew, so he told them. They kept a constantly vigilant eye on him, and he didn't protest, much. What more could they fucking ask for?

"I didn't have human vocal cords," he snapped, attempting to keep his lip from twitching into a soundless snarl. "Not like you would have listened, even if I could talk. Too busy on your propped-up moral high horse."

"Y'know what, Raeken? Get out. Now. Out." Stiles picked up the bat from beside his chair, swinging it onto his shoulder as he advanced on Theo. "You're not even supposed to be here, anyway. This is a Pack meeting."

Mason tried to get between the two again, "Stiles-"

"No. For all we know, he's the one pulling the strings behind this whole thing."

That landed, probably more forcefully than even the second anticipated. Fangs slid free from their pockets in his gums and claws sprouted from each nailbed instantly, his wolf and coyote roaring in perfect unison loud enough that he had to clamp his own jaws shut to keep from letting it spill out. Two years he had been working with them, taking bullet after bullet and one beating after another as needed, as asked, without asking for anything. Two fucking years, and Stiles had the audacity to think he was the one putting them all in danger?

"Figures, you're still stuck in the same old paranoia," Theo growled through his fangs, eyes flaring, the coyote once more snapping at his heels. "See if I move a muscle next time one of you pathetic idiots need an extra set of claws."

With a full chested snarl, he turned to the door. He was done with this, with them. If he didn't leave now, someone was going to end up hurt and he would get put back in the ground.

His claws stabbed into his palm as he grabbed the knob and wrenched it open, stepping quickly through, and slamming it behind him. The door rattled on its hinges behind him. It barely contained the shouting that rang wordlessly in his ears as he jumped from the porch, carrying out from the house. He didn't care enough to catch the words, keeping himself focused on moving.

Rabid was a polite way to put the coyote's state of mind. All it wanted was to lash out at something, anything, to feel something break beneath him, to tear and rip and maim and maul, while the wolf moped in a corner, pitifully whining at the state he was in. If he stopped, if he let himself break, lacking any real targets or outlets for the festering shitstorm, they would tear him to shreds. That was the risk, the price. He had to stay in control. Always. Perfectly in control. One slip or step out of place, and any goodwill or trust he had would disappear.

Dangerous things don't get third chances. Murderous things even less so.

There was nothing to do but fight them back, demand that both settled the fuck down and force them into submission if they wouldn't listen. Every inch of him shook as he leaned his forehead onto the window of his truck. His hands were still stuffed in his pockets, bleeding in a way that meant he was going to have to bleach the ever-loving crap out of it if he ever wanted to wear it again, which was less a desire and more a necessity. He was running out of clothes again.

"Hey," someone behind him said.

Theo whirled around, wrenching his hands from his pockets with a defensive snarl, one rising out of muscle memory, claws spread and ready to strike at the threat. Except, it wasn't a threat, but Mason behind him, now staring at him wide-eyed, a thin sheen of fear clinging to him. Claws and fangs shrank back as he stumbled, the weight of what he had nearly done crashing down on him like a hammer on an anvil, silencing the animals and their panic.

He didn't stop moving away until the metal of his truck's door pressed against his back, and even then, it was only because he couldn't move anymore. That… He nearly… In a truly desperate attempt to get his racing head mildly stitched back together, he tipped forward, gripping his head with both hands, heedless of the tacky metaling blood on his palms and fingers, groaning.

"I was going to ask if you were okay, but," Mason let out an airy chuckle, "looks like I don't need to."

Maintaining the surly, snarking persona was not feasible, unfortunately, as he wanted to snap some retort about fucking right off and it serving him right for sneaking up on him. The main reason he didn't, other than the sudden ringing as his thoughts careened around at a million miles an hour, was that he doubted Mason had tried to sneak up on him. In fact, he knew the guy had done everything possible to let him know he was coming up, but Theo had been too far into his own head, too far under the animals, to realize or process it.

"Go back inside, Mason," Theo grumbled, lifting his upper body back to vertical. "I'm fine."

He dropped his hands and turned back to his truck without sparing a second to look at the very concerned human. His best bet was to bottle up what he could and just get his ass to the Preserve. It might be a little dangerous, okay a lot dangerous, but where else was he supposed to go? He needed to run, to let his skin fade away and not be constrained by the edges of himself lined with barbed wire to keep him from falling back into them.

Forcing a mask of neutrality back onto his face, he sighed.

Just another few minutes. All he had to do was keep the creatures inside under control long enough to get out of there. Even if hunters were still crawling around, they wouldn't stand a chance against him, not like this.

"You sure? Because, pretty sure, almost clawing one of your — like three total? — friends to death is the opposite of fine."

"I said, I'm fine," Theo growled, looking at Mason in the window's reflection, wincing at how his eyes glowed again without his consent.

He tucked his chin tight to his chest, squeezing them shut, trying to hide how his hands, loose at his sides, were shaking. The coyote was too close to the surface, shrieking at him again, calling for blood and mayhem. He hadn't struggled this much with the damn thing since he was fresh out of hell, and even then, it wasn't nearly this loud.

"What's wrong with me?" he muttered, reaching into his pocket for his keys.

"The closest thing you have to a best friend is missing. If I were a werewolf, I'd be struggling with control too," said Mason as he put a hand on Theo's shoulder, gripping it softly.

Once again, his truck caught his weight as his body sagged from relief, he didn't know he needed. His eyes stung and prickled as he tried to soothe his wolf. No matter what he said, it keened for the missing wolf, the little bowling ball of anger and warmth that he had gotten so used to always seeing. He let out the breath that had gotten stuck in his lungs, choking on it as it flew out too fast. His shoulders shuddered, legs threatening to buckle beneath even part of his weight.

"We'll get him back, Theo. Safe and sound. I know we will."

Theo bit back whatever pitiful sound pushed to squeak out of him on principle. He was above this sort of thing, had been for years. Emotional pain, that required caring and being attached, and…Shit, who was he kidding? He cared. He cared too damn much, and that was the whole problem. Liam was his weak spot, the thing he let burrow through the walls he constructed around himself and stay there even once he found out. His wolf settled a little as blue eyes flashed behind his eyelids as he blinked.

Scowling at his distorted reflection in the truck's door, Theo grit his teeth. Barely visible tear tracks, glowing amber eyes, bloody lip where he'd bitten too hard… He was a mess. A miserable fucking mess that had royally screwed around, gotten attached, and now was finding out.

"I'll see you around," Theo said as he pushed himself off the door, wiping his face in his sleeve, and opening it with rough, disjointed movements.

Getting in the truck was muscle-memory. Left foot lifted to the step, then up, twist, and down into the seat while pulling the door- His attention snapped to Mason blocking his door, holding it open.

"You going to pick up the phone if I call you? Cause we need you to get him back."

"Sure, Mase." He said it through his teeth, but it wasn't a lie regardless of the earlier threat. "You call, I'll answer." Theo shook his head, loosing one hand from the steering wheel chuckling as he jabbed at Mason's chest. "But, if it's another shit show like this, you owe me."

Mason chuckled, nodding as he backed up, saying, "Just pick up the phone, and it's a deal," and then letting go of the door.

If Theo threw his hand out fast as he could and positively wrenched the door toward him with all his strength, momentarily surprised the glass didn't break from how loud it slammed shut, then he did himself the favor of not pointing it out. He turned on the engine and twisted around in his seat, checking for street traffic. Finding none, he jerked back around, putting the truck in reverse and pulled out onto the street.

Normally, he would turn on the radio, scan for something interesting, give himself some sort of distraction. It was a flawed system, not very functional and rarely producing results, but it was normally at least something. Between something and nothing, he usually leaned on the side of something.

But today, with the sun that was still lifting above the trees shining in through his truck windows, the inside of the truck was quiet other than his harsh breathing. It took a solid five minutes for him to realize that he was heading off to Beacon Hills High School. There was unlikely to be anybody at the lacrosse field yet, and with how it backed up onto Hale property and the Preserve was, maybe he could go running there. It was also probably safer to park and go from there than just going for one of the standard entrances, and he could shower in the locker rooms afterward, so big bonus.

He kept driving, daring to press down a little harder on the gas pedal, speeding. The faster he got to the school, the faster he could figure out how to get the bastards in his head to simmer the fuck down. More than anything, he needed a level head if he expected to get anywhere looking for Liam on his own. Recklessness, especially egged on by the unpredictability of the duo currently back seat driving his every decision, served no one in this instance.

No, he needed to be smart. Calm and methodical, approaching this from a standpoint of strategy with the lens of how he had come at them, how he would do it now given what he knew and what Monroe did, that was the way to go, the way that would actually accomplish something.

With a long sigh, tightening his grip on the wheel and then forcibly almost entirely relaxing it, he slowly came up with a plan.