Theo dropped to the steps as Isaac walked past him and the others, bypassing the overcrowded table, and sank into the worn couch tucked into the far corner, eyeing the entrance. If there was any other way to get the information, he would have opted for it, but the out-of-towners wanted a discussion with everyone. Supposedly their information was hypersensitive, and they wanted to make sure everyone understood just how careful they had to be with it. So, he turned, hanging one leg over the edge of the staircase, toe skimming the concrete floor while he watched the group simmer around the table.
A little distance between him and other people was smart. The coyote was still ready to rip Stiles' tongue from his mouth, salivating at the possibility of bloodshed and bristling with the same anger from earlier. He hadn't gotten an answer yet, though. He needed that answer. The wolf whined, urging him to scramble for just a little more control, to stay just a little longer. Exhaling forcefully, he plastered the most neutral mask onto his face he could.
"You know, normal people don't have a basement full of weapons," Isaac said, circling his pointed finger around the room.
"I'll have you know, Mr. Personality, that every single thing in here has saved someone's life at least once," Stiles snipped, glaring over his shoulder as he continued to set up his computer.
"What about that sword over there?"
"Oh, that?" Stiles turned to look at what Mason pointed to. "That's purely decorative."
For an armory it was pretty cozy, even with the numerous guns, bows, and other weaponry along the wall next to a line of small fridges and freezers with a greenhouse on top of them. It was almost exactly what he pictured a hunter's basement looked like. Maybe Argent helped him design it. Regardless of its look, the confined walls were constricting the longer he sat. The anxiety in the room would have been palpable to him even if he wasn't able to smell it flooding off of everyone, including himself. No matter how hard he tried — and he tried very hard on the drive over — he couldn't hide his scent or his heartbeat. He was as open and vulnerable as the rest of them, which only made his chemosignals and heartbeat spike more. Someone was bound to notice and ask questions he didn't have answers to.
His control was slipping like water through a clumsy child's fingers and he didn't know how to stop it. The anger from the woods hadn't fully gone away. It sat simmering, contained but barely. He glanced down to his hands, claws sheathed for the moment. At least that was progress. If Isaac hadn't been with them… he didn't know what would have happened, and that thought stabbed him in the gut. He was better than this. Control was second nature to him, simple as breathing. It had to be. Failure was not an option. His hands started shaking.
He threw his hands into his hoodie's pockets, standing, giving his head a hard shake. Not now. Not again. As forgiving as Stiles seemed to be about the woods, he doubted a second outburst would be well received. Just as he turned, Mason looked back at him, asking him where he was going and simultaneously beckoning him to the table without words.
Sighing, Theo dropped his head and came down the last few steps and stood close enough to the group to satisfy his friend. The chatter wasn't worth his attention, mindless half-solutions to unconfirmed scenarios while assuming unlikely details, so he watched Stiles and the screen he had connected the computer to.
Stiles dropped his eyes to the table, glancing at the laptop, tapping his fingers on the table as if willing someone to hurry and get on the Skype call. His anxiety spread over the room, quickly souring the air, almost smothering Theo as it affected the other weres. Malia's eyes flashed as she shook her whole body and started pacing, snarling at Corey as he tried to come near her. He could have told the chameleon that wouldn't work well. Coyotes and coddling weren't meant to go hand-in-hand.
Not that the Dread Doctors ever did any coddling. They preferred fixing a problem sending him through more experiments, shoving another volley of needles in him and placing cold electrodes all over… He shook his head roughly, hiding the shiver that ran down his spine as he adjusted his posture, griping at his arms. He hoped no one noticed the racing blip of his heart rate as he bit at his lip again, kneading the still pink spot that had yet to fully heal. His skin itched and crawled, like it wasn't sitting quite right after shifting back. The only thing that would help was running or tearing something apart; his age old solutions for unwanted emotions. Talking with Liam became another favorite option, but that wasn't available right now on account of the stupid hunters. Bitting back a growl, he twisted his head, grinding his teeth as he backed a step away.
Skype's Everly energetic ringtone nearly startled him out of his skin. Not that he would ever admit that out loud. He settled himself again, inhaling and exhaling in a constant rhythm as several faces popped up on screen.
"Sourwolf! Perfect timing." Stiles' shoulders sagged in relief as his chuckle came out more like breathy huffs.
"For what?" Derek's face was almost comical with his eyebrows almost jumping off his forehead as he spoke. "Don't tell me they got someone else. Damn it, Stiles, I told you-"
"I got everyone out safely. Have a little faith, eh?"
Derek rolled his eyes, settling back into his chair, "I do. It's just…"
Another series of loud blup noises as Chris Argent, Jackson, and Peter appeared on-screen.
"These guys are serious business," said Derek, nodding to Chris.
"Why? What makes them so bad and so scary?" Theo asked, stepping farther into the circle, fighting to keep his eyes from glowing with every word.
"They're a research division of another old family," Chris answered with his usual monotone delivery. "Supposedly they've been stealing wolves, keeping them for weeks or months, and then slaughtering their entire packs. They've done this across the US for sure, and there may be a couple incidents here in Europe."
"Sounds like a normal hunter network," Stiles said, slowly narrowing his eyes at the screen. "A little bigger than average, and maybe a tad more sadistic, but we should be able to handle them-"
Derek growled, frowning at the camera, "Stiles, you're missing the poin-"
"You can't." Chris' face was stoic except for the subtle downturn of his mouth. "All the slaughters were done by, or at the very least led by, werewolves."
The room fell silent.
"That's ridiculous. Wolves wouldn't do that," Isaac said, face pale as a sheet of paper.
Stiles looked over all the papers scattered on his table, mind running a mile per second, "Then, what-"
"Be quiet and listen, then the adults might tell you," Peter sighed, rolling his eyes at everyone.
"Rumor is that they've hijacked the wolf part of a werewolf's mind and induce a frenzied rage. They release the werewolf and direct them at the pack, picking off any they miss."
"Oh god." Stiles stumbled back, barely catching himself. "If they… If they break either of them…"
"They'll be unstoppable," Lydia said, her breath hitching as she spoke.
Sharp spikes of acrid fear spread through the room from everyone. This was so much worse than anxiety. It made his stomach drop and his blood all but freeze in his veins as his lungs stopped working. He was suffocating beneath the growing waves, caught in an undertow. Both the wolf and coyote ran in frantic circles, hackles raised, whining and scared senseless. A Scott that killed was terrifying. It wasn't supposed to exist. The world wasn't right-side up if the True Alpha started taking life rather than save it.
"How do we stop them?" Theo asked, letting a growl bubble up, rumbling under his words.
"I have an idea," Corey said, grinning.
"Thank goodness. Something sane," Stiles sighed in relief.
"It involves fire."
"Absolutely not. Nope. Next idea. Anyone else, please."
"Okay, I'm aware Scott's not a fan, but has anyone considered, I don't know, murder as an option? It's hard for someone to continue being a problem if they're dead." Isaac twirled his scarf around his finger.
"Finally, one of you has a sense of how to get things done." Theo chuckled. "I've been telling them that for years."
"Isaac, I swear to… No. We're not killing anyone as our primary plan." Stiles shot daggers with his glare at both Theo and Isaac before looking more softly around the circle, "Any further suggestions?"
"Set up surveillance crews around the industrial zone, gradually narrow down where they are in it and then run some reconnaissance?" Peter said, watching his phone screen and tapping at it intermittently.
"No. Wait. That could actually work."
"Were you going to say no to every idea?"
"Only the insane ones," Stiles said, turning back to his papers.
"Doing that's too dangerous. It leaves you guys too exposed, at their mercy on their territory," Derek said, shaking his head.
"Do you have a better plan, Der? We need to get them back ASAP, like fucking yesterday, because no way in hell I'm letting Scotty and Liam be turned into psychopaths. We've got enough of those around."
"We will need all the help we can get," Lydia mumbled, looking over a written list before handing it to Stiles.
"First crew will be Parrish and Corey. Second, Isaac and Mason. Third, Malia and I. Fourth, Lydia and…" Stiles paused, looking around the table, sighing, rubbing at his forehead. "You should be here by then, right?" He asked, looking at his boyfriend.
"How long of shifts are you thinking? I've got about a day before I get there."
"Six hours? Long enough to minimize movement giving us away but short enough that people will still pay full attention if they rotate who is on watch. After you get here- Wait, Peter, you coming too?"
"Of course. I'd never miss a chance to see my daughter."
"Okay, so we rotate back through until you and Argent get here." Stiles nodded to himself, leaning onto the table. "Then we plan an offensive."
"I'm flying out in a couple days. Gotta make sure everyone over here is safe and ready," Chris said, tone even.
"Jackson, you planning on coming stateside too?" Isaac asked.
"Depends on how bad you guys think you need more muscle."
"Considering we're potentially going up against a group of high-ass-tech hunters, and both a rage-roofied alpha and werewolf version of the Hulk, probably a good plan to bring all the muscle we can," Mason said, trying to conceal his worry, and failing spectacularly as yet another wave of fear rolled off him.
"I'll bring Ethan, too, then," Jackson said with a nod.
"Where do I fit in?" Theo looked at everyone, eyes flicking from face to face without moving his head.
Stiles sharply shook his head, pointing a pen at him. "You're the Crown Prince of collateral damage, you're staying behind."
"And you don't trust me," Theo huffed, his eyes glowing dimly as he fought to keep his claws sheathed, keep an iron grip on his own arms.
"Not strictly for the reason you're thinking," Stiles said, wincing half-apologetically as he shrugged with the entirety of both arms.
"Get realistic, Stiles. You don't exactly have the luxury of trust right now. You need me."
"I am being rea-"
"I thought I told you both to work it out in the woods!" Lydia groaned, pointing between the two of them.
"I'm not the one that needs to work through his bullshit," Theo growled, turning towards the stairs.
Part of him wanted to turn around, to stay, to fight and prove he deserved a place on whatever harebrained mission they could think up. More than part of him, but there was no telling how much longer he could keep his claws sheathed. The coyote's rage had thawed his veins, taking them from frozen to boiling in a heartbeat, and the wolf wasn't helping control it. There was no stopping the growl that rumbled in his chest as he turned to the stairs.
"Call me when he gets his head out of his fucking ass. Or don't. Not like I can care enough for it to matter, right?" He sneered the last words, venom leaching into every syllable.
His chest clenched as he marched up the steps, struggling to hold back the raging howl. Who was he to be this upset at this situation? For fuck's sake, he wasn't even part of the damn pack. Why was he trying so damn hard? What did he owe them? Nothing. He wasn't friends or even friendly with half of them. Corey tolerated his existence because Liam had encouraged Mason, and who knew why Liam did anything. He didn't.
Before he could process it, he was outside, standing on the porch, griping the railing tight enough that he could have sworn he heard the wood groan beneath his fingers, just as a drowning man would grab at his lifeline. It may have well been his only lifeline, with how his animals were rioting in his head, instincts pulling him too many directions, dragging him down into a sea of anger and fear and longing…
The door squeaked behind him, clattering shut quietly, drawing his attention. He smiled to himself as he forcefully relaxed his shoulders. Mason wasn't a threat, and he would be damned if he lashed out at him a second time. He had control.
"Have to hand it to you, you certainly know how to make a dramatic exit," Mason chuckled.
"No point in doing anything if you don't do it with style." Theo snorted, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
"Pretty sure you could be just as stylish minus the almost death threats and anger explosions."
"Nah, Stiles enjoys being right too much." At least his voice wasn't quivering anymore.
"It might not be horrible to prove him wrong. Every once in a while. The man has enough of an ego to survive it, I promise."
Theo shook his head, bowing his head further, dropping it below the banister. "Why're you out here? Shouldn't you be planning with them? They need another actual brain."
"Making sure you're okay."
"Why?"
"Because I consider us friends, and the basic principle of friendship is caring about your friends."
"Nobody cares about me, so don't pretend to. It doesn't suit you."
"I'm not pretending."
Theo snapped his head up, staring at Mason with quirked eyebrows, more than a little taken aback. True, Mason actually seemed to trust him, but that was a far cry from saying without a hint of hesitation that he cared. He wasn't even sure his parents had. If he had been a wolf from the start, able to hear their heartbeats, he might believe the words in his fractured memories. Little broken pieces of moments too blurry to see any definition in. That was all he had left. Nine years and that was it.
"Well, you'd be the first," he said, looking away, settling his eyes back on the porch.
"Not true," Mason said, shrugging his shoulders and head, "but I'll pick that fight later. Right now, I'm asking again: are you okay?"
The first instinct to let a smooth lie roll out of him kicked him in the gut, almost making it out before he clamped his jaw shut. Lying shouldn't be his modus operandi anymore. He had to trust them. Where was he ever going to get if he didn't? Something had to change, to give, to move.
"I…" He looked to Mason and sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know."
—
Liam blinked awake, groaning as he rolled onto his back, sharp coughs sending shooting pain through his ribs and aggravating the pulsing throb in his head. Every breath after made his chest twinge, nearly sending him into another coughing fit. A couple ribs had to be cracked, he assumed as he took in several carefully measured breaths. Oxygen was important, whether his torso agreed with his lungs was irrelevant.
Slowly, he took stock of his body, bringing his hands to his face and wiggling his toes. Everything was still attached, thankfully, but not a single patch of skin was unscathed. Most of it was green, at least out of what he could see . He had been alone for an hour, not too much more, or the edges of the black one on his hand would be more faded. Without windows he had no actual way of guessing time of day, let alone keep track of time passed. They knocked him out too frequently for that.
"Scott?" He called, pushing onto his elbows, biting back a groan of pain as every muscle in his torso screamed at him.
No answer. They must have taken him when they tossed him back in. Worry tickled the back of his mind, worming its way past Liam's attempts to focus himself. Remembering the hunter's questions would be more valuable than worrying over something he couldn't do anything about. He closed his eyes, groaning as his head continued to throb, sending pangs through his skull. All he needed were the questions. The grating gruffness of the guy that had woken him up with water to the face lingered in his ears, but the words slipped away too quick to catch.
Clanging from beyond the far wall made him flinch, too loud in the silence, reverberating in his ears, chasing the choppy whispers away. Frustrating didn't begin to cover the situation. If he couldn't remember what these bastards wanted, then what good was he going to do the pack if they came to get him? They needed to know who these guys were, what they wanted, why they took him and Scott when they could have taken others too. Information was paramount, and he was failing at retrieving anything. His skin itched and itched as his wolf spun around and around, snarling at him, unable to settle.
The last few months had been so easy, even on the full moons. He barely thought about controlling the wolf side of himself. It was just like breathing. An autonomous function, simple and expected. Now, he wished that he never learned control like that. Without it he was suffocating, unable to catch his breath as he ground the heels of his hands into his temples. He growled, jaw clenched tight as his teeth ground together audibly. The instincts pressed against his rational mind, sweeping aside his mantra, ignoring it.
A sharp hiss punctuating his words as he rocked back onto his knees. For a second he was glad they had him. If this happened outside, in town around people, he would be even more scared. Theo was the only one that could be near him like this. It started because the asshole always goaded him into it whenever they trained and sparred together. Every single time. He would push and poke and prod at him, both with his stupid attack-retreat pattern and his stupid words. The blinding rage should have scared Theo, given that it scared him and he was the one that felt it!
The wolf snarled again, latching onto the anger in his memories, circling it. Theo had been stupid to bring out that side of him so much. What if he couldn't direct it? Liam would have been to blame, whether or not he was in full control, and he hated the idea of hurting, potentially killing, his friends. Why did that idiot think it was so funny to see him lose control? He had wanted to rip that damn smirk off his face more than he cared to count, to make him understand that this wasn't a game and replace that over-confidence with fear.
Liam snarled, feeling his claws ripping into his palms. Blood trickled down his wrists, the metallic smell lingering in front of his nose, covering all other scents. His wolf stuttered for half a step before throwing itself forward, barking and howling in desperation, a hunger seeping into his stomach. He brought his hands down and watched the red fill his hand as he uncurled his fists, enraptured with the sight as the wounds stitched closed at half-speed. The smell kept hitting him with every pulse, worsening the raging in his head.
Scott was thrown to the ground in front of him, snapping his attention to the door. His snarl shook the walls as he stood, lips twitching, showing his long fangs. Before he could move, a sharp stinging start in the back of his neck. Howling, he reached back, scratching furiously at his neck. He heard the door clatter closed, but all he wanted was to stop the stinging. It rattled his skull, worsening the throbbing at the side of his head, sending the wolf further into a rage, all rational thought erased.
"Liam? What's wrong? Liam!" Scott shouted, voice tight and strained as he struggled to get to his feet.
The sound of Scott's voice stalled the wolf, silencing part of the boiling rage. He stumbled back, grabbing at his head. Everything was spinning so fast in his head, the floor might as well have been flipping around too. He wouldn't notice. Air wouldn't stay in his lungs, it pushed out too quickly.
A voice outside the cell rang through the panic, "Attack."
Liam froze, his chest barely moving. The wolf stopped too, caught between half an urge to obey and another to pull apart the bars and rip out her through. This was his friend, his alpha, he couldn't attack him. He wouldn't. Some things even an IED wolf wouldn't do.
"Attack!" She repeated, louder, pulling something out of her pocket, clicking a dial.
Liam's body started shaking as the stinging doubled, turning into a violent shock that ran down his spine and stabbed at his head. His wolf howled, thrashing, snapping at anything near him, driven back to rage. A chuckle echoed through the cell, drowned as Liam launched forward with an ear-shattering roar, claws ready and raised.
