Stella knew something was wrong the instant she heard the low growl echoing from the veterinary clinic's back room. Scott had dragged her and Stiles there after hours, muttering about "helping someone," and Stella's heart pounded in her chest. Whoever—or whatever—was inside sounded like it was in pain.
She crept past rows of kennels, the antiseptic smell mixing unpleasantly with the coppery tang of blood. Her senses bristled with each step, a primal alertness that had become her new normal. Scott was up ahead, shoulders rigid, glancing over his shoulder at her and Stiles.
"Stella," he said quietly, "we need to keep Derek alive. But… I'm not sure how."
Stiles gave a nervous half-laugh. "Well, your boss, Deaton, is the only one who might know how to handle a bullet made of… I don't know, mystical werewolf poison?"
Stella winced, remembering the rumors swirling around: a strange new hunter in town, Kate Argent. An 'animal attack' that left Derek bleeding. A bullet laced with something that wreaked havoc on werewolf physiology. All of it spelled disaster.
In the far corner, Derek lay sprawled on an exam table, gasping for breath. His face was contorted in pain, and sweat slicked his dark hair to his forehead. The bullet wound in his side was turning an ugly, purplish black around the edges.
"What happened to him?" Stella asked, her voice hushed.
"Got shot," Derek rasped, glaring at her like it was obvious. Still, his bravado was overshadowed by the clear agony he was in.
Scott hesitated a moment. "It's… wolfsbane poisoning, I think. We need to get the bullet out before it kills him."
Stella's stomach churned. "And how exactly do we do that?"
Stiles fumbled through the supplies Deaton had left. "He said something about—uh, a special procedure. We need the bullet to, like, dissolve or something? Or we have to extract it. I don't know! I was half-listening," he admitted, tossing gauze and scalpels aside.
Derek let out a strangled growl. "Hurry."
Scott looked frantically between Stella and Stiles. "He's getting worse. If we don't help him, he's… gone. Stella, can you find—"
Stella's sharper senses snagged on an acrid smell wafting from a small container on the counter. She grabbed it, reading the label: Wolfsbane Extract. It had a pungent odor that made her eyes water. "This has to be it," she said, recalling fragments of lore from Stiles's endless research. Sometimes, the only cure for wolfsbane was a distilled version of the plant itself—ironic, but that's how these curses worked.
She glanced at Derek. "This might hurt like hell."
Derek's eyes flashed blue, his jaw clenched. "Do it."
Scott steadied Derek's shoulder while Stella carefully poured the liquid into a syringe. She willed her hands not to shake. One wrong move, and she could kill him faster. Stiles hovered on Derek's other side, face pale but resolute.
The moment Stella injected the wolfsbane antidote near the bullet wound, Derek roared, his back arching off the table. Scott and Stiles grimaced, trying to hold him in place.
"Hang on," Stella muttered. "I think it's working."
The area around the wound bubbled and steamed, turning a sickly color. Derek's breathing grew ragged, his teeth bared, but he forced himself to stay still. A second later, a small, twisted piece of metal popped from the wound, clattering onto the table in a dark, oily mess. Stella shuddered at the sight of it.
Stiles snatched it up with forceps, holding it away like a live grenade. "That's the bullet? Look at it—it's all corroded."
Derek collapsed against the table, breathing raggedly. His skin was still clammy, but the black veining around the wound slowly receded. Relief washed over Stella; they'd managed to pull him back from the brink.
"Now what?" Scott asked, turning to Stella.
Stella swallowed hard. "We clean him up, bandage him, and pray he heals on his own. I'm no vet, let alone a werewolf expert."
A beat of silence passed. Then, Derek's eyes cracked open, meeting Stella's gaze with a flicker of gratitude—just a flicker, before his usual scowl returned. "Thanks," he mumbled, though it sounded more like an accusation than appreciation.
Stiles gently set the bullet in a nearby metal dish. "Who uses a magic bullet like that? I mean, who knows to use a bullet like that?"
Derek gritted his teeth. "Hunters."
The single word hung heavy in the air.
A phone buzzed, breaking the tension. Stella glanced at her cell—Allison's name lit the screen. Her stomach twisted. She'd just hung out with Allison in the most normal, fun way possible, and now she was elbow-deep in werewolf secrets. If only she knew what her family was capable of…
Stella silenced the phone. She'd call Allison back later. Right now, Derek needed to get out of here before someone else came sniffing around. Scott and Stiles exchanged uneasy looks, each understanding that tonight's crisis might only be a taste of what was coming.
Because if Kate Argent—or any hunter—was willing to pull the trigger on Derek, how long would it be before they turned their sights on Scott… or Stella?
She pushed the thought aside, helping Derek sit up. If there was one thing she'd learned in this new reality, it was that survival meant sticking together—even with the people (or werewolves) you didn't fully trust.
Especially them.
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Stella's ears were still ringing from Derek's agonized roar the night before. Even hours later, back in the quiet safety of her bedroom, she kept recalling the way his back arched against the exam table, how that twisted, blackened bullet clattered onto the metal tray. She'd saved his life—or helped, at least—and yet she wasn't entirely sure if that made them allies… or just two people forced to work together against something bigger than them both.
Morning brought no relief from the tension coiled in her gut. The sun had barely risen when she found Scott rummaging through the kitchen for breakfast, eyes bloodshot from another restless night.
"You sleep at all?" Stella asked, gingerly closing the fridge.
He shrugged, staring into a half-eaten cereal bowl. "Not really. Kept thinking about the hunters… and Derek. And what happens next."
Stella nodded, grabbing a granola bar. "Same. We basically put a flashing sign on ourselves by helping Derek. That bullet was laced with wolfsbane for a reason." She lowered her voice. "Whoever shot him knows exactly how to kill werewolves."
Scott grimaced at the word. Even now, calling themselves werewolves felt like stepping on a live wire. "And we know who's behind it," he said quietly. "The Argents… Allison's family."
Stella's stomach twisted. She still hadn't called Allison back after ignoring her phone last night, and guilt gnawed at her. "We don't know for sure if her dad or aunt was the one who pulled the trigger," Stella hedged.
"Does it matter?" Scott asked, his voice low. "They're hunters. If they find out what we are, they'll come for us."
A heavy silence settled, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator. Stella swallowed hard, thinking of Allison's warm smile, how open and kind she'd been since day one. She can't know, Stella told herself. At least not yet.
By the time they reached school, the halls buzzed with fresh rumors. Stiles caught up with them near Scott's locker, his expression grave. "Heard from Derek?" he asked, voice low.
Scott shook his head. "He disappeared after we patched him up. Typical Derek—no thanks, no goodbye."
Stiles snorted. "Sounds about right. Well, guess we're in the clear then. For now."
They all knew the truth: Derek Hale, for better or worse, was tied up in their mess. If he'd truly disappeared, it was because he didn't want to be found—by hunters or by them.
Stella opened her locker, trying to shut out the tension. But it came rushing back when she spotted Allison at the far end of the hallway. Allison saw her too, offering a friendly wave that made Stella's chest tighten. She forced a bright smile and waved back, determined not to let any of this show on her face.
"I'll catch up with you guys," she murmured to Scott and Stiles.
She steeled herself and headed over to Allison. Up close, she noticed how the other girl's brow furrowed with concern. "Hey," Allison said softly. "I tried calling you last night. Everything okay?"
"Yeah, sorry. Family thing," Stella lied, the guilt twisting deeper. "My phone died, and… you know how it goes."
Allison nodded, seeming to accept the explanation. "I was worried. You and Scott both seemed stressed yesterday."
Stella had to force herself not to glance at Scott, who hovered by his locker, obviously not wanting to interrupt them. "We're fine," she insisted, hoping it sounded convincing. "Just normal high school drama."
Allison offered a tentative smile. "Well, if you need a break from the drama, my aunt Kate's visiting for a while—she's been taking me out for little day trips. Maybe we can all do something sometime?"
Stella's pulse spiked at the mention of Kate. Kate Argent. The hunter. "That… sounds fun," she managed, feeling her voice catch.
Before Allison could notice Stella's unease, the bell rang, slicing through the moment. "Guess we better hurry," Allison said, hitching her backpack higher on her shoulder. "Talk later?"
Stella nodded, forcing another smile that felt painfully tight. "Yeah, definitely."
As Allison moved away, Stella exhaled sharply, the air shuddering from her lungs. So Kate Argent was in town—likely the same Kate who'd fired that wolfsbane bullet. And now Allison was inviting Stella and Scott to spend time with her? This is not good, she thought, resisting the urge to run straight home.
Classes blurred by in a haze of restless thoughts. Every small sound, every strange scent prickled Stella's heightened senses, keeping her on edge. At lunch, Scott, Stiles, and Stella snagged a table in the corner, away from prying ears.
"Kate's here," Stella muttered once they sat down. "Allison just told me."
Stiles choked on his soda. "You mean the Kate? The one who put a magic bullet in Derek?"
Stella nodded grimly. "I'm pretty sure. She's Allison's aunt, and she's definitely a hunter."
Scott's grip on his fork tightened. "So she's living under the same roof as Allison… and if she knows about us…"
A sickening silence settled over them. If Kate found out Scott and Stella were wolves, Allison could get caught in the crossfire.
Stiles broke the tension with an unsteady laugh. "Well, I guess we can scratch 'quiet semester' off our wish list."
They all managed weak smiles before letting the topic drop, at least publicly. Stella knew they needed a plan. But no one could say it aloud: Were they really prepared to stand against the Argents?
The final bell of the day rang, releasing the flood of students into the parking lot. Stella was stuffing her books into her backpack when she caught a glimpse of Derek leaning against a distant wall. Despite the large hoodie he wore, he still looked pale, drained.
Heart hammering, Stella glanced around; no one else seemed to notice him. She quickly slung her backpack over her shoulder and left the crowd behind, weaving between cars until she reached him.
"You're crazy to be here," she hissed, arms crossed. "You can barely stand."
Derek's gaze flicked across the lot, watchful. "I needed to talk to Scott," he said, voice rasping. "Where is he?"
"Still inside, I think," Stella answered. "Why?"
"There's no time," Derek insisted, pushing off the wall. A slight wince crossed his face, betraying his pain. "The Alpha—he's not done. And neither are the hunters."
Stella wanted to press him for details, but the look in Derek's eyes stopped her. He was clearly desperate. And beneath the usual suspicion on his face, she sensed genuine worry—like a man cornered by more than one enemy.
Just then, Scott emerged from the school doors, Stiles in tow. They froze upon seeing Derek. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Derek swallowed, pulling a small piece of paper from his jacket pocket.
"It's a lead," he said, thrusting it toward Scott and Stella. "A possible clue to who the Alpha might be. Or at least where he's been hiding."
Stiles peered over Scott's shoulder at the paper. "Coordinates?"
Derek nodded. "Out near the old Hale property. If you want to keep your heads on your shoulders, you'll come with me. We need to find him before the hunters do. Or before he picks off someone else."
Scott and Stella exchanged uneasy glances. Going deeper into Hale territory meant risking more run-ins with Kate and her family. But ignoring it would leave them all in the dark about the Alpha who started this nightmare in the first place.
Stella found her voice. "We'll help—but don't keep us in the dark anymore, Derek. If you want us to trust you, you need to be straight with us."
Something like respect flickered in Derek's eyes, though his next words were clipped. "Fine. But hurry. The hunters may already be on the move."
With that, he turned and stalked off, fading into the lengthening shadows. Scott let out a shaky breath. Stiles gawked, the paper still in his hand.
"This is insane," Stiles murmured, but his eyes sparkled with that familiar excitement. "But we can't ignore it."
Stella nodded, bracing herself for whatever came next. The Argents were in town, the Alpha was out there, and Derek—begrudgingly—needed them. If last night's brush with wolfsbane bullets had taught her anything, it was that standing alone meant certain death.
We don't have a choice, she thought, falling into step beside Scott and Stiles. We either hunt down the truth, or it hunts us first.