Beacon Hills, California: Saturday - Monday, September 3rd – 5th, 2011.

Saturday started the way most Saturdays do for me—slow, groggy, and unmotivated to get out of bed. But that all changes with the sound of loud, persistent knocking. My eyes barely have time to adjust to the daylight before I hear Rose's voice through the door.

"You'd better be decent," she calls out, her tone half-joking, half-serious.

I groan, pulling the covers over my head. "Did you just let yourself in?"

"Nope," she replies, swinging the door open just a crack. "Your mom did. Get dressed. We've got a lot of work to do today." Then, just like that, she closes the door behind her, leaving me blinking up at the ceiling, trying to piece together what's happening.

As I get dressed, I can't help but wonder what Rose has planned. She specifically said we shouldn't be practicing for a few days after all the drama with Derek. So what's the rush now?

When I walk out into the kitchen, she's standing by the counter, sipping on tea like she owns the place. My mom's already left for work—early shift at the hospital, as usual—but she's left me a note by the door, reminding me of the dreaded parent-teacher conferences on Monday.

"Hey, Mom says I better have all my homework done by Monday," I say, grabbing my jacket.

Rose smirks, tossing me an apple from the counter. "We'll make sure you do—after we get through today's work."

"And what exactly is today's work?" I ask as we head outside, locking the door behind me.

She gives me a sideways glance as we walk to her car. "Prepping you for your initiation next Sunday. It's the eve of the full moon. Big night for you."

Initiation? Great. I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to keep my cool. "I thought we weren't practicing for a few days."

"We're not practicing. We're prepping. Big difference," Rose says, slipping into the driver's seat. "You need to be ready, and that means working on your defensive wards and charms. Trust me, this is all about making sure you don't die."

That's reassuring.

The day passes in a blur of training. Rose's loft is full of the usual oddities—herbs, candles, crystals scattered everywhere. But today, the focus is on me. By mid-morning, she's animated a training dummy to attack me, fists swinging with surprising speed and force. I spend hours casting defensive wards, dodging punches, and learning how to properly channel the magic to protect myself. My body feels like a bruise by early evening, and I'm pulsing with exhaustion, every muscle aching in a way that only magic training can cause.

By the time Rose hands me a Brightwake elixir, I'm half dead on her couch. The mixture tingles on my tongue, giving me just enough energy to make it through the drive home. When we pull up in front of my house, she gives me a look.

"Rest up. Tomorrow we start on something a little more advanced."

"Can't wait," I mutter, dragging myself out of the car. As I walk to the door, my phone buzzes with a text from my mom. She'll be home late again—car wreck on the interstate, multiple surgeries requiring her assistance.

Dinner alone. Again. I sigh, slipping inside. It's nothing new, really. I've gotten used to it.

After a long, hot shower to loosen the knots in my back, I throw on a pair of sweats and flop onto my bed. The candles on my altar flicker as I light them, filling the room with a soft, warm glow. I fill a chalice with wine, a small offering before I grab the stack of books Rose gave me. There's the one on the history of the Houses, another on Libra-based spells and magic—mostly warding and barriers—and then the codex on night creatures. She'd warned me to read that one at my own leisure, strictly for research, not entertainment.

I'm just about to open the codex when a soft knock at my window makes me freeze. My heart jumps into my throat, and I sit up, feeling a sudden shift in the air—apprehension. I sense someone's nervous energy before I even pull the blinds back.

Scott's standing there, perched on my roof, looking like he's about to bolt.

I give him a look, raising an eyebrow as I open the window. "What are you doing here?"

He glances away, shifting awkwardly on his feet. "Can we talk?"

I sigh, stepping back. "You might want to come in before one of my neighbors thinks you're breaking in."

Scott nods, climbing through the window, and for a second, the tension between us hangs awkwardly in the air, and I'm not exactly in the mood for small talk. I'm still trying to work through the mess with Allison, not to mention everything else. I can still feel his nervous energy radiating off him in waves, his usual demeanor replaced by something much more uncertain.

He stands there, glancing around my room, probably taking in the candles and the books scattered across the bed. I wonder how much of this he's piecing together—the altar, the magic, all of it.

"So, what's up?" I ask, keeping my tone neutral as I stand by my altar, idly adjusting the candles.

"I'm sorry for just showing up like this," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just… I didn't know who else to talk to."

Scott sits down on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped. "Everything feels like it's falling apart. I don't know what to do. And now…" He trails off, his eyes flicking toward the codex on my bed, and I can tell he's trying to connect the dots.

I sit on the floor, resting my back against the wall, giving him space. "Now what?"

Scott hesitates, his voice low. "Now I find out you're… you know, involved in all of this." He gestures vaguely to the books, the altar. "Magic, witches, all of it."

There's a weight to his words like he's struggling to accept that this world is even bigger than he thought. He's not angry—more like overwhelmed.

Scott hesitates. "I just… I wanted to apologize for getting you involved in all of this. That wasn't fair."

I give him a quick glance, then look away. "Yeah, well, it's not like I had much of a choice," My voice comes out sharper than I intended.

Scott winces, clearly picking up on my frustration. "I know. And I'm sorry. But this stuff, Adrian—" He pauses, struggling to find the right words. "It's dangerous. I don't want you to stay out of it."

The protector. Always the protector. I get it—I really do. But it doesn't make this any easier.

"You don't get it," I mutter, more to myself than him. "I don't have the luxury of staying out of this anymore. I've got Rose, I've got magic, and I've got my own problems. You don't have to worry about me."

Scott stands there, looking like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. And maybe he is. I don't know what else to say, so I don't. I just let the silence settle between us.

He shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. The room feels thick with unsaid words, and it's making me more defensive than I'd like. His concern feels like it's pressing in on me, making the air feel sticky, like I'm caught in a web I didn't ask to be a part of.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone softening.

I let out a laugh, more bitter than anything. "Am I okay?" I repeat, turning to him. "You want to know what's funny? For a second—just a second—I thought you actually liked me. I mean, before Allison came along."

Scott flinched, like I'd slapped him. "Adrian, that's not… I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't know—"

"You didn't know what? That it would screw with my head?" I cut him off, the anger simmering beneath the surface. "You seemed pretty sure of yourself when you kissed me."

"I'm confused," Scott admitted, his voice shaky. "I haven't been a werewolf for long, and everything's different. It's making me question a lot. Including how I feel."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"When I'm with you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "everything feels… different. The air feels warmer, smells sweeter. Like just being around you changes things."

My face flushed at his words, but I wasn't about to let him off the hook. "That's me, Scott. I can project emotions into the air—it's part of my magic. It's not you, it's me."

Scott shook his head. "Are you doing it now?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "No."

"Then it's not your magic," he said, stepping closer. "Because I feel it right now."

I clenched my fists, wanting to fight him, yell at him, throw him out of my room. But deep down, I knew what it felt like to be confused, to not understand who you were or what you felt. Still, I wasn't going to make this easy for him.

"I can't do this, Scott," I muttered, my voice low. "You like Allison. You've made that pretty clear."

Scott moved closer, his voice soft. "I like her, but I like you too."

My face grew warmer, the flush creeping up my neck, but the agitation was still there. I couldn't let him just say that and expect everything to be okay. "Don't. Don't mess with me like this."

"Just close your eyes," he said gently. "I want to try something."

I shot him a glare, defensive. "I'm not some experiment for you to figure out your feelings with."

"That's not what this is," Scott said, his tone steady but pleading. "Just… trust me. If you don't feel anything, I'll leave. I won't bring it up again."

There was a long pause, and reluctantly, I closed my eyes. Scott's hand slid into mine, his fingers rough but careful, and the scent of cinnamon from his skin filled the air between us.

I stood there, feeling the warmth of his hand in mine. The anger and confusion melted away for a moment, replaced by something else. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, and then I felt it—a soft kiss, barely there, but enough to send a shock through my body.

The kiss lingered, and my heart raced, my skin buzzing. He pulled back slowly, his hand still holding mine.

"Do you feel that?" he asked quietly, his voice soft.

I didn't want to answer, didn't want to admit that something had shifted, but I couldn't deny it. The air between us was heavy with something unspoken, something I didn't want to name.

"Scott…" I started, my throat tight.

He squeezed my hand, his voice gentle. "Just tell me what you feel."

I opened my eyes, meeting his, and for the first time, I saw the same confusion in him that I'd been feeling. But beneath it, there was something real.

"I feel…" I hesitated, the words stuck in my throat.

Scott understood, letting go of my hand and stepping back. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low. "I don't want to hurt you, Adrian. I'm just trying to figure this out."

I took a deep breath, the frustration starting to fade. "I get it. But you can't keep leading me on. You can't keep doing this. I can't—"

"I know," Scott said, looking down at the floor.

We stood there, the tension still thick but not as suffocating as before. It was different now—heavier, maybe, but also more honest.

"You should go," I finally said, stepping back.

Scott nodded, climbing out the window and disappearing into the night without another word.

As soon as he was gone, I collapsed onto the bed, staring at the books scattered around me. My hand still tingled from where he kissed it, and my mind spun. I grabbed the codex on night creatures and tossed it onto the shelf, knowing that the more I learned, the harder it would be to ignore my feelings.

But I couldn't afford to want him.

Not now. Not with everything else.

Sunday rolls in quietly, the morning calm but not without the usual weight of expectation. I'm supposed to be meeting Rose for training later, but first, it's our normal routine—my mom and I head out for grocery shopping and our usual stop at Rudy's Diner. The air smells of syrup and bacon when we walk in, but I can't bring myself to enjoy it like I usually do.

French toast has kind of become my thing here, but today, it just feels like cardboard in my mouth. Everything feels off, and it's not just because of the sleepless night spent thinking about Scott. My mind keeps replaying what happened, the feel of his hand, the way he looked at me… all of it. I can't shake the unease, the questions that keep popping up in my head.

My mom, like always, can tell something's up. She's halfway through her coffee when she glances at me over the rim of her cup. "What's wrong?" she asks, her voice soft but probing.

I shrug, poking at my food. "Nothing."

She raises an eyebrow, and I know I can't get away with that. "Is it about a boy?"

I freeze for a second, my fork still in my hand. I don't answer, but the fact that I don't says enough.

She leans back in her seat, giving me a knowing look. "Have you ever liked someone who liked someone else?" I ask, quietly.

A small smile tugs at her lips, like the question brought back some old memories. "I have," she says. "Billy Martin, 11th grade."

I tilt my head. "What happened?"

She sighs, stirring her coffee absently. "I wasn't very brave, and I wasn't popular. When I saw him talking to the head cheerleader, Jessica Parker, I shut myself out. I avoided him like the plague."

I stare down at my plate, the swirl of emotions inside me making it hard to think straight. "Do you regret it?"

She takes a slow sip of her coffee, thinking. "No," she says finally, a warm smile in her eyes. "If I hadn't, I wouldn't have you."

I can't help but smile a little at that, though the weight on my chest doesn't exactly lift. She reaches across the table, resting her hand on mine. "Sometimes love is about fighting for someone, even when it's messy. Love isn't perfect, just like people. But it's patient, it's kind, and it's worth the risk."

I let her words sink in, but then the question that's been burning inside me slips out before I can stop it. "Do you still love Dad?"

Her hand stills, her eyes drifting down to her coffee cup. She's quiet for a moment, her expression more reserved. "Some part of me will always care for him," she admits, her voice low. "But I can't love someone who would hate our son for being exactly who he is. That's not love."

We don't say much after that. I think her words stick with me more than I realize, and for a while, I'm lost in my own thoughts.

By the time I get to Rose's loft later that afternoon, my mind's still a mess, but now it's time for training. Rose has me doing more physical stuff today, which isn't my strong suit. She wants me to learn how to channel my barrier magic into actual attacks, but for that, I need to get stronger.

It goes about as well as you'd expect—miserably. I'm trying to focus, trying to land solid punches on the animated training dummy she conjured up, but my knuckles are bruised and bleeding within an hour. Rose doesn't go easy on me, but I wouldn't expect her to. She's relentless, though in a way I appreciate.

"You have to get stronger," she says firmly as she hands me a towel. "You can't always rely on your magic. You need to be able to defend yourself if something goes wrong."

I wipe the sweat from my face, breathing heavily. "I'm trying."

She nods, not unkindly. "Good. Because things are going to get worse before they get better."

There's a pause, and she glances at her phone before continuing. "There was another attack last night. A video store clerk this time."

My chest tightens. "Was it the Alpha?"

Rose shrugs, crossing her arms. "Likely. I drove past the scene last night—saw Jackson and Lydia there too. They seemed fine, but whoever this Alpha is, they're not slowing down."

I frown, my mind racing. "Should we do something?"

"If Scott and Derek can't handle it, I'll contact Aurora," Rose says flatly. "And when a House is summoned, they don't just come to talk. They'll kill any night creature that stands in their way."

I nod slowly, hoping it doesn't come to that. Rose's casual mention of it sends a chill down my spine, though.

Later that evening, I'm back in my room, finally finishing up my homework. The weight of everything hangs over me, but I'm trying to push it aside and focus. My phone sits beside me, and for the hundredth time, I consider texting Scott. Maybe I just want to clear the air… or maybe it's something else. Either way, I type out this long, rambling message but never hit send.

Instead, the message stays in my drafts, unsent. I toss my phone onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as exhaustion creeps in.

Monday hits me like a slow, creeping dread. It's the day of the parent-teacher conferences, and I can feel the anxiety thick in the air even walking into the building. It's only been a few weeks into the semester, but you'd think some of these kids are facing their doom based on the sheer tension clinging to every corner of the school.

I try to shake it off, but the nerves of everyone around me are making it hard to focus. And then there's Scott. Every time I catch his glance in English, my skin burns like he's standing too close. He doesn't say anything, but his presence alone is enough to mess with my head.

By the time chemistry rolls around, I'm trying to just get through the day without losing it. But then I notice Lydia's empty seat. She's never absent.

I lean over to Jackson, sitting there looking as aloof as ever.

"Where's Lydia?" I ask, keeping my voice low.

He barely glances at me, shrugging like it's no big deal. "Mental health day or something," he mutters, clearly not interested in having a conversation.

I pushed a little further. "What happened at the video store?"

For a second, Jackson freezes. His usual confidence falters, and I can feel the fear radiating off him. But he recovers quickly, pushing the conversation away. "It was a mountain lion," he says, his voice flat.

I didn't believe him for a second, but I let it go for now.

At lunch, I meet Rose in the chemistry lab where we usually practice. The place smells like old textbooks and chemical fumes, but it's private enough for us to talk. I lean against one of the lab tables, still thinking about Lydia and Jackson.

"I'm worried," I admit, fidgeting with the edge of my sleeve. "Lydia and Jackson were there. They saw something."

Rose shrugs, her usual calm demeanor unbothered. "Humans see night creatures all the time. They usually just brush it off. Turn it into a campfire story later."

I nod, but something still doesn't sit right. "We should check on her."

Rose raises an eyebrow, half-amused. "Want me to bring something to help her deal with it? You know, a sleep tincture or something?"

I chuckle, though it's a weak attempt at humor. "Like one of those neuralyzers from Men in Black that wipes memories?"

Rose smirks. "I mean, I could come up with something like that… but I was thinking more along the lines of a tea."

By the time school lets out, dusk has already settled over Beacon Hills. Normally, I'd love this—fall leaves crunching underfoot, the cold bite in the air. But now? All I can think about is the Alpha lurking somewhere out there, waiting.

We head to Lydia's house after school. Mrs. Martin lets us in, a bright smile on her face.

"Lydia's had a lot of visitors lately," she says warmly as she leads us upstairs.

Rose glances at me, curious. "Who else came by?"

"Oh, a boy named Stiles. Nice kid," she replies before lightly knocking on Lydia's door. She peeks inside, her voice soft. "Sweetheart, Rose, and Adrian are here to see you."

From inside, Lydia's voice drifts out, sounding groggy. "I didn't order any roses."

Mrs. Martin turns to us with a small, apologetic smile. "She's had something to ease her nerves. Go on in."

The room is dimly lit, and Lydia lies sprawled on her bed, her eyes half-lidded and glazed over. The air is heavy, almost suffocating, like the weight of everything that's happened is pressing down on her.

I sit on the edge of her bed, trying to gauge her mood, but with the tranquilizers in her system, I can't feel anything coming off her. Rose, meanwhile, inspects the pill bottles on her nightstand.

"These are stronger than anything I would've given her," Rose mutters under her breath.

Lydia's gaze shifts lazily toward us, her voice slow and slurred. "What're you guys doing here?"

"Jackson said you were taking a mental health day," I explain, trying to keep my voice light. "You weren't texting me back, so we wanted to check on you."

She doesn't respond right away, her eyes drifting toward the ceiling, her expression distant. Something's off.

"What is it, Lydia?" I ask, my stomach tightening with concern.

She hesitates, her voice barely a whisper. "I saw something."

Rose steps forward, her face serious. "What was it?"

Lydia's eyes glaze over again. "Something," she says vaguely.

Rose sighs, exasperated. "Like… a mountain lion?"

Lydia nods slowly, her voice far-off. "Yeah… a mountain lion…"

It's clear she's barely coherent, and Rose gives me a look that says we're not getting anything useful out of her right now. But I can't shake the feeling that there's more.

Rose leans in, speaking quietly. "You should try to probe her thoughts."

I blink, thrown by the suggestion. "How?"

Rose shrugs. "I've only seen it done once before. But since you've been tapping into other Zodiac abilities, you should be able to use Pisces magic. Touch her and say the spell 'Cogitatio.' The intention behind it is on you."

I swallow hard, unsure but willing to try. I gently take Lydia's hand, feeling her skin cool beneath mine. I whisper the spell.

At first, nothing happens. But then, the room shifts—blurring at the edges as I fall into her mind. In a flash, I see it. Lydia's memory unfolds in front of me: she's sitting in her car when something—a dark shape—crashes through the store's front window. It's monstrous, its silhouette huge with glowing red eyes, sprinting past her into the darkness.

The image hits me hard, and I pull back, scrambling away from Lydia and onto the floor, my breath coming in sharp gasps. Fear floods my system, the terror Lydia felt wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket.

Rose kneels beside me, her voice calm but urgent. "What did you see?"

I steady my breath, my pulse racing as the memory of the Alpha's glowing red eyes burns in my mind. "I saw it. I saw the Alpha."

The drive back from Lydia's house feels eerie, the winding roads circling the hillsides of Beacon Hills covered in a thick darkness. The headlights from Rose's BMW only cut so far into the abyss.

My mind is still buzzing with the image of those red eyes, that monstrous shape tearing through Lydia's memory. The Alpha. It's all I can think about. I try to shake it off, but the questions are there, gnawing at me.

"Why is the Alpha attacking random people?"

Rose tightens her grip on the wheel, her gaze focused ahead. "I don't know," she says, her tone clipped. "This Alpha is different—more violent, more erratic."

"Why?" I press, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten. "What makes him different?"

She opens her mouth to respond, but something in the rearview mirror catches her attention. I notice the change immediately—her face pales, her posture stiffens. "I'm not sure," she mutters, her voice lowering. "But we could ask him—since he's chasing us."

My heart slams into my throat. "What?"

I twist around in my seat, and sure enough, a monstrous, hulking figure is barreling toward us—its glowing red eyes cutting through the darkness like two burning coals—the Alpha.

"Rose!" I shout, my voice cracking as panic sets in. "It's getting closer!"

"I know!" she shouts back, slamming her foot on the gas. The engine roars in protest as the car lurches forward, speeding around the tight curves of the road. "Just hold on!"

The forest becomes a blur as we race through the dark, the BMW rattling over the uneven road. I glance back, my breath catching in my throat. No matter how fast we go, the Alpha gains on us, its monstrous form looming larger and larger in the rearview mirror. I can see the gleam of its claws, the way its muscles ripple with every stride. It's like death on four legs.

"Rose, it's right on us!" I scream, gripping the sides of my seat, trying not to completely lose it.

"I'm trying!" she yells, her knuckles white as she swerves around another corner. But it's not enough. The Alpha slams into the side of the car with terrifying force, and we careen off the road.

The tires screech, the car spinning out of control. Everything becomes a chaotic mess of motion and sound. The world tilts as the car smashes through the underbrush, spinning wildly before crashing into a tree with a sickening crunch.

The airbags deploy with a violent thud, slamming into my chest and face. Glass shatters around me, tiny shards scattering like deadly confetti. For a moment, all I hear is a high-pitched ringing, drowning out everything else.

"Rose?" My voice is a weak croak as I turn to look at her.

She's slumped against the airbag, blood trickling down her forehead. The sight of her, so still, sends a fresh wave of panic surging through me.

"Rose!" I gasp, fumbling with my seatbelt. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely get the latch undone. The growling outside grows louder, the Alpha still out there, waiting, hunting.

I glance toward the dark forest beyond the shattered windshield, and the reality of the situation crashes down on me. It's coming.

"I'll come back for you," I whisper to her, my voice trembling as I finally free myself from the seatbelt. I push open the door, my legs shaking as I stumble out into the cold night air.

The growling is closer now, a deep, rumbling sound that sends chills crawling up my spine. Without thinking, I shout into the darkness, my voice cracking. "You want me?! Come and get me!"

I don't wait for a response—there's no point. I turn and run, sprinting into the forest as fast as my legs will carry me. My heart pounds in my chest, each breath burning in my lungs as I crash through the underbrush, branches whipping at my face and arms. The Alpha's heavy footsteps thunder behind me, closer with every second. It's faster than I thought, and no matter how hard I push myself, it's gaining.

The forest feels endless, each tree a shadowy blur as I weave through them, desperate to put distance between me and the creature hunting me. My lungs are on fire, my legs screaming in protest, but I keep going, the sound of the it's snarls echoing in my ears.

I don't know how long I've been running. My legs feel like jelly, my body begging me to stop, but I can't. I can't stop. I can't let it catch me.

But it's no use. It's too fast. My body gives in before my mind does, and I stumble, falling to the ground with a gasp. My hands claw at the dirt as I struggle to push myself up, my heart hammering in my chest.

I turn, bracing myself for the inevitable. The forest falls deathly silent, but I can feel it—feel him—his presence closing in around me like a curtain of rage that strangles the air around me.

"Come on," I mutter under my breath, trying to summon whatever courage I have left. "Come on!"

The Alpha steps out from the shadows, its red eyes glowing like coals in the darkness. It's massive, more monstrous than I ever imagined, its fangs gleaming as it stalks toward me, a low, menacing growl rumbling deep in its chest.

I stand frozen, my mind racing for something—anything—that could save me. But before I can even make a move, the Alpha lunges, and everything slows down.

I don't even have time to scream.

Adrenaline surges through my veins, my heartbeat thundering in my ears as the Alpha barrels toward me. Its glowing red eyes pierce the darkness, and all I can do is throw my hands up, summoning a barrier in a last-ditch effort. The Alpha's claws slam into it, sending me flying like a ragdoll. I crash into a tree, the bark scraping against my skin as I hear a sickening crack. Broken? Maybe. Doesn't matter.

The pain momentarily overrides my fear, but underneath it all, anger simmers. Pure, raw anger. I can't die here. Not like this.

I see the Alpha lunge again, its massive claws aiming for my head. I roll out of the way just in time, the creature's claws gouging deep into the tree instead. Scrambling to my feet, I summon whatever magic I have left, sending a forceful push of energy toward the Alpha. It staggers back, but barely. He's too strong, and my magic is weakening, faltering. I throw up another barrier just before he lunges at me again, but this time the effort leaves me shaking.

I skid across the dirt, back slamming against the ground as the Alpha roars, battering my forcefield with every ounce of power it has. Each hit reverberates through my body like shockwaves. My arms feel like they're on fire, blood trickles from my nose, and my head is spinning. But there's some deep, primal part of me that refuses to die.

I'm terrified. Completely and utterly terrified. I'm alone, in the dark, fighting for my life against this monster, and I know—I just know—I'm going to die here. I can feel my magic slipping, draining from me like sand through my fingers. I throw every last bit of energy into holding the barrier, but it's not enough. The Alpha raises both claws and slams them down, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs. He does it again, and this time, my shield shatters like glass.

This is it. My vision flickers, dark spots dancing across my eyes. I brace myself for the end.

But then, a familiar voice cuts through the night. "Arde!"

A rush of heat and light surges past me, and the Alpha is engulfed in flames. The air fills with the smell of burning fur, the creature howling in pain as it stumbles back. I blink, turning my head just enough to see Rose. She stands a few feet away, her clothes torn, covered in blood and dirt, her hands crackling with flame. Another fireball materializes in her palm, casting an eerie glow over her determined face.

"Rose..." I barely manage to croak out, but she's already hurling another fireball at the Alpha, who ducks and weaves between the trees, snarling as it retreats. Embers catch in the leaves, lighting small fires around us.

I try to stand, but my legs feel like they've turned to lead. My entire body aches, and I can barely move my arm. Rose rushes over, grabbing me by the shoulder.

"We need to run," she says, her voice firm but strained.

I nod weakly, trying to push myself up, but before I can even get to my feet, the Alpha reappears, moving faster than before. It slams into Rose, sending her flying through the air. She crashes into a tree, slumping to the ground, unconscious.

Panic surges through me, but something else rises too—a power I've never felt before. It's like a dam bursting inside me, flooding me with rage.

I stumble to my feet, barely able to stand, but something guides my hand as I raise it toward the Alpha. The creature stands on its hind legs, towering over me, letting out a deafening roar that shakes the trees. But I don't feel fear anymore. Only fury.

Memories flash through my mind—my father screaming at me, rejecting me, throwing me aside. The years of bullying, the constant feeling of being worthless. But then, there are other memories—memories that aren't mine—pour in. Witches burned at the stake, drowned, beaten to death. I can feel their rage mixing with mine, boiling over.

I want him to burn. I want them all to burn for what they've done.

A voice whispers words to me, a language I don't fully understand, but I say them anyway— I scream them. "Ira et Dolor."

Flames erupt from my palm, a wild, untamed inferno that shoots forward like it has a life of its own. The fire spreads out, engulfing everything in its path. The Alpha howls in agony, its fur singed and flesh burning as it stumbles back, trying to escape. The relentless flames chase it down, setting the forest ablaze as the creature turns and flees into the night, its monstrous figure disappearing into the shadows.

The spell ends as abruptly as it began, and I collapse to the ground, my body trembling with exhaustion. The fire in the forest slowly dies out, leaving only smoldering embers. My legs give out, and I fall to my knees, gasping for breath. I can barely move, barely think.

"Rose…" I croak, my voice weak as I turn to where she lies against the tree.

She's still unconscious, her body slumped against the bark, but she's breathing. Relief washes over me, but my body refuses to move any further. I fumble for my phone, my fingers trembling as I pull it out and dial a number.

"Adrian?" The voice on the other end is distant, muffled. "Adrian, are you there?"

I try to speak, but the words don't come out. My vision blurs and the world starts tilting. Everything around me fades into a haze of smoke and flickering embers until I hit the ground.

My eyes flicker open, and the first thing I register is someone calling my name. The air around me is stiflingly warm, thick with smoke that burns my lungs. I cough, my chest tight, and wince at the pain spreading across my body. The world feels heavy, my head lolling to the side as someone lifts me, pulling me from the ground. My head slumps against a firm shoulder, and my fingers instinctively curl around the back of his neck.

I take a shaky breath, and that's when I smell it—the familiar scent of cinnamon. It's comforting, cutting through the haze of smoke and fear.

"Scott…" I managed to croak.

"I'm here," he replies softly, his voice steady despite the panic in the air.

"Rose…?" I whisper, my voice weak as I try to focus.

"Stiles has her. We're taking you to the hospital."

I shake my head weakly, the movement barely a twitch against his shoulder. "No… loft… take us to the loft."

Scott hesitates, but I can feel the rush of wind against my skin. I realize then that he's running, carrying me away from the flames, away from the forest. I cling to him tighter, feeling the strength in his arms and the warmth that radiates from him. Relief floods me, and I can't stop the tears that sting my eyes. He came for me. He found me.

"The Alpha… it attacked… fire…" I try to explain, but my words are slurred, the pain and exhaustion making it hard to speak.

"Shh, try not to talk," Scott says gently. "You need to rest."

I feel the jolt of being placed into a car, the rough texture of Stiles' Jeep's backseat against my skin. The voices of Stiles and Rose are distant, muffled, but I hear them arguing quietly, and for a moment, I feel safe. My eyes grow heavy again, and I drift in and out of consciousness as we drive.

The next time I wake up, I'm in Rose's loft. The soft light filtering through the curtains stings my eyes as I try to adjust to my surroundings. My body feels numb, the pain muted, but the exhaustion is still there, pressing down on me like a weight.

There's a figure sitting at the edge of the bed, and as I shift, I realize it's Scott. He turns toward me, his face soft with concern.

"You should rest," he says gently, his voice quiet in the stillness of the room. "If you push yourself too much, you'll pass out again."

I try to sit up, my body protesting with every movement. "What happened?"

Scott leans back slightly, running a hand through his hair. "We found you in the forest, the fire was spreading fast. It's burned through part of the preserve, but the fire patrol's handling it now."

I glance down at my arm, noticing the absence of pain. The break, the burns—they're gone. My skin is whole, healed. Confusion sets in. "How… how did I heal?"

Scott looks at me, his expression unreadable for a moment. "Rose called someone. An older woman showed up. I've never seen anything like it."

Aurora. My mind immediately jumps to her. Rose had mentioned before that Virgos were known for healing, but I never thought Aurora would bother helping me. After our initial meeting, I assumed I wasn't worth her time. The memory of the fight in the forest flashes in my mind, and with it, a sinking feeling. I remember the rage. I remember how good it felt to burn everything in my path. And that… terrifies me.

Scott must sense the shift in my mood because he leans forward, his hand gently covering mine. "Hey, what is it?"

My heart feels heavy in my chest as I force the words out. "I started the fire."

Scott's thumb brushes over my hand, his touch grounding me. "You were defending yourself. It wasn't your fault."

"No," I shake my head, feeling the guilt bubble up. "I wanted it. I wanted him to burn. I wanted everything to burn." My voice cracks, the tears falling before I can stop them. "What's wrong with me?"

Scott reaches up, gently wiping a tear from my cheek, his gaze never leaving mine. "There's nothing wrong with you," he says softly, and there's something in his tone that makes me believe him, even though the fear inside me screams otherwise.

I look at him, my heart pounding. The air between us feels warm again, but it's different now— I'm over here falling apart, and yet, Scott's looking at me like I'm something precious. Like I'm not broken, even though I feel like I could shatter at any moment. It's overwhelming.

My cheeks burn as I glance down at his hand in mine. "You… saved me?"

His eyes soften, and he nods. "Of course I did."

Scott's hand lingers in mine for just a second longer, and then he pulls away with a small, sheepish smile. "And Stiles too, of course," he adds, trying to lighten the moment.

I can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips. Oh, Stiles. Always there, always loyal, in his own chaotic way. I shake my head, amused despite everything. Scott stands, his expression softening as he says, "I'll grab Rose. She'll want to see you."

Part of me doesn't want him to leave. Part of me wants him to stay right here, close. But there's another part—the more cautious part—that wants to push him away, to keep my walls up, because I don't know what to make of my own strength.

A few moments after Scott leaves, Rose steps into the room. She's still looking a little worse for wear—scratches on her arms and dried blood on her forehead—but her usual energy is back. She gives me a once-over, her sharp eyes assessing every inch of me.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, folding her arms.

I push myself up a bit in the bed, my body protesting the movement. "Drained. But… okay. Thanks to you and Scott."

Her expression softens slightly. "Thanks for saving my life," she says, her voice quieter than usual, more sincere.

"You would've done the same for me," I reply, meaning it.

She nods, but there's something in her eyes, a curiosity, maybe even a hint of unease. "I've never seen magic like that before, Adrian. It was… powerful. More powerful than anything I've ever felt."

"What did you see?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

"It was like the fire was alive," she says, her voice still quiet, almost reverent. "Magic that strong usually requires a circle—a group, focused energy—but you did it on your own, like it was part of you."

Her words send a chill down my spine. I remember the feeling too well—the rage, the power, the way it coursed through me like I was a vessel for something much bigger, much angrier. "I don't know how I did it," I lie, my voice steady. "I just… did what felt right."

She studies me for a moment, clearly not buying the whole story, but she lets it slide. "You realize how fucked you are with Aurora, right?"

I sigh. "On a scale of 1 to 10?"

"Twelve."

I wince, running a hand through my hair. "Does she know about Scott?"

Rose leans back, her arms crossed, and there's this weight in her voice when she replies. "She knows. I had to explain everything to get her to heal you. But she gave them two weeks—two weeks to deal with the Alpha. And if either of us gets hurt—or worse—it'll be sooner."

I feel a knot tighten in my stomach as I meet Rose's gaze. We both know what that means. If the House steps in, there won't be any mercy. Aurora will wipe out every night creature in Beacon Hills without a second thought.

"Do they know?" I ask quietly, though I'm already dreading the answer.

Rose shakes her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. "No. I wasn't exactly sure how to tell him he's got two weeks before a coven of witches kills every night creature in this valley. Not really the kind of thank-you card you send to someone who saved your life."

I let out a heavy sigh, leaning my head back against the headboard. "I'll… I'll tell him," I mutter, the weight of those words sinking in. Scott deserves to know, even if the truth could shatter everything.

Rose watches me carefully, her brow furrowing. "We can't let them handle this alone, Adrian. You know that."

I push myself up, sitting straighter. "We have to help them," I say, my voice more determined now. "That thing hunted us down, Rose. I can't just sit back and let Aurora kill him. Scott saved us."

Rose rubs the bridge of her nose, clearly torn. "I get it, Adrian. I do. But we have to be careful. If Aurora finds out we're helping them… you know what'll happen. She won't hesitate to go after us, too."

"She won't find out," I say firmly, cutting her off. "We'll be smart. We won't let it come to that. But I'm not abandoning him."

She studies me for a long, silent moment, like she's weighing the risks in her mind. Then, with a resigned sigh, she finally nods. "Fine. But we set limits. If things get too dangerous, we back off. Understood?"

"Agreed," I say, though part of me knows backing off won't be an option if things get worse.

Rose glances at the clock, the exhaustion finally catching up to her. "It's late. Stiles is gonna drive you home," she says, standing up. "I'm taking a couple of days off to get the car sorted and call in a few favors. We need to be better prepared, and I don't want any more surprises."

She pauses, throwing a teasing smirk my way. "Just don't burn down the town before I get back, okay?"

The drive back to my place feels like it lasts forever, even though Stiles is driving faster than usual. The car is silent, which is weird—Stiles is never quiet. But the tension from the night is hanging heavy, and even he knows when to leave things unsaid. I keep glancing out the window, watching the dark shapes of trees whip past as my mind races. The Alpha, the fire, Scott saving me... again. I can't shake the pit of dread settling deeper in my stomach.

When we finally pull up outside my house, I murmur a quick thanks to Stiles before sliding out of his Jeep. Scott's already trailing behind me, quiet as we head up the driveway. The cold air feels sharp against my skin, but the awkward silence between us feels sharper. There's so much I want to say, but I can't. Not yet.

We reach the front door, and I hesitate, my hand lingering on the doorknob. I look over at Scott, and there he is, with that familiar, easy smile that makes everything feel just a little less terrible.

"Thanks," I say, my voice coming out softer than I intended. "For saving me. Again."

Scott's smile deepens, his eyes warm. "You don't have to thank me."

And there it is—the moment I should tell him. Tell him about Aurora, the two-week deadline, how everything is going to get so much worse if he doesn't handle the Alpha soon. But the words get stuck in my throat. I can't say it. Not when he's looking at me like that, like maybe everything's going to be okay.

"Your heart's racing," he says, almost like it surprises him. His voice is soft, like he's trying not to spook me.

I shrug, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, well… I've got a werewolf standing right in front of me. Kind of hard to relax."

He chuckles, and for a second, the tension eases up. "I'm not that scary, am I?"

I smirk, rolling my eyes. "Only when you're not smiling."

Scott laughs quietly, and for a moment, it's easy. Like things between us haven't shifted into weird, uncharted territory. But then the silence creeps back, and I'm too aware of how close he is—like, really close. The warmth radiating off him makes my skin tingle in the worst way, and before I even think it through, I lean in.

It's slow, hesitant. My lips barely brush his, and for a split second, I think he might back away, but he doesn't. He meets me halfway, and suddenly we're kissing—soft, careful, like neither of us wants to mess it up. And damn if it doesn't feel right. But then, it also feels so, so wrong.

Panic hits me out of nowhere, and I pull back, heart pounding, regret bubbling up instantly. "Shit," I mutter, stepping back, my chest tight. "I shouldn't have… I don't even know why I did that."

Scott doesn't move, doesn't flinch. He's still standing there, so calm, like I didn't just ruin everything. "It's okay, Adrian," he says, voice steady, like he's trying to convince me.

I shake my head, frustration building. "No, it's not. I—"

"It is," he cuts me off, his hand coming up to cup my face. His thumb brushes against my cheek, soft and grounding, and I feel like I might lose it. "I promise. It's okay."

I want to argue, tell him that this is way too complicated, that I'm a walking disaster right now. But the way he's looking at me, the warmth in his eyes—it makes me stop. Maybe he's right. Maybe it is okay.

I let out a shaky breath. "Goodnight, Scott."

He smiles at me again—this soft, almost shy smile—and leans in to press his lips to my knuckles, just a light brush that sends heat rushing through me. And then he's gone, walking back to his place, disappearing into the darkness like he didn't just turn my world upside down.

I stand there for a moment, staring after him, my heart still racing, my mind buzzing with everything I didn't say.

Eventually, I force myself inside, the house quiet and still. I sneak upstairs, careful not to wake my mom, and make my way into the bathroom. The second the hot water hits my skin, I let out a long breath, scrubbing away the grime, the smoke, the… everything. But no matter how hard I try, I can't wash away the memory of his lips on mine, that warmth still lingering like a ghost.

By the time I'm out of the shower, I'm too exhausted to think, but sleep? That's not happening. I throw on some sweats, collapse onto my bed, and just lie there, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts spinning in a million different directions.

And all I can think is how much I don't want to be alone tonight.