The morning light streamed through the windows of the Argent house, casting long rays onto the hardwood floors. Camila sat at the kitchen table, her fingers curled around a steaming mug of coffee. The events of the previous night were still fresh in her mind—the Alphas, the fight, Stiles' voice cutting through the chaos like an anchor.

She glanced at her phone, the screen lighting up with a text from Scott.

Scott: Meeting at Derek's loft at noon. We need to talk about what happened.

She sighed, setting the phone down. There was no denying it now—the Alphas were ramping up their attacks, and their focus on her was becoming more apparent.

"Morning."

Camila looked up to see Stiles entering the kitchen, his hair sticking up in every direction. He was still wearing the T-shirt and sweatpants he'd borrowed the night before, and she couldn't help but smile at his disheveled appearance.

"Morning," she said softly, sliding a second mug of coffee toward him.

He accepted it gratefully, collapsing into the chair across from her. "So, what's the verdict? Are we still alive, or did last night finally push us into the afterlife?"

Camila chuckled, shaking her head. "Still alive. Barely."

Stiles took a sip of his coffee, his gaze lingering on her. "You okay?"

She nodded, though her expression faltered. "I'm just… trying to figure out what the Alphas want with me. I don't understand why I'm such a big part of their plans."

"You're important, Cami," Stiles said, his tone gentle but firm. "To all of us. Maybe that's why they're targeting you. They know how much you mean to the pack."

Her cheeks warmed at his words, and she looked down at her mug. "You always know what to say, don't you?"

"It's a gift," he said with a grin, though his eyes softened. "But seriously, we're going to figure this out. Together."

By noon, Camila and Stiles had joined the others at Derek's loft. The space was dimly lit, the exposed brick walls and metal beams giving it an industrial feel. Derek stood near the center, his arms crossed as he addressed the group.

"The Alphas are escalating," he said, his voice low and steady. "Last night wasn't just a test—it was a warning."

Scott frowned, his hands on his hips. "A warning for what?"

"They're preparing for the lunar eclipse," Derek replied. "It's the perfect time for them to complete their ritual."

"What's so special about the eclipse?" Lydia asked, leaning against a nearby column.

"It temporarily strips werewolves of their powers," Derek explained. "If they complete the ritual during the eclipse, they'll have the upper hand."

Camila felt a chill run down her spine. "And the ritual involves me somehow."

Derek nodded, his gaze steady. "You're connected to the site. To the weapon they're trying to awaken."

"But why?" she asked, frustration lacing her voice. "Why me?"

Chris Argent stepped forward, his expression grim. "Because of your family."

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to him.

"My wife—your mother—helped seal that weapon years ago," Chris continued. "The Alphas know that the bloodline connected to the original ritual is the key to unlocking it."

Camila's breath hitched. "So, they need me to finish what she started."

"Exactly," Chris said. "But they don't just need you alive. They need you willing."

The weight of his words settled over her, and she clenched her fists. "Well, that's not going to happen."

Scott stepped closer, his amber eyes filled with determination. "Then we need to make sure they don't get the chance. We destroy the site and stop the ritual before the eclipse."

"Easier said than done," Stiles muttered. "These guys aren't exactly the 'give up easily' type."

Derek's jaw tightened. "That's why we need to hit them hard and fast. No hesitation."

Later that evening, Camila found herself back at the Argent house, her mind racing as she sat in her room. The weight of her connection to the ritual was suffocating, but more than that, the thought of her friends risking everything for her was unbearable.

A knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts.

"Come in," she said softly.

Stiles stepped inside, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey. Thought you might want some company."

She managed a small smile. "You're getting good at this whole mind-reading thing."

"It's a side effect of hanging out with you," he teased, sitting beside her on the bed. "You doing okay?"

"No," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It feels like everything's spiraling out of control, and I don't know how to stop it."

Stiles reached out, taking her hand in his. "You don't have to stop it alone, Cami. You've got us. You've got me."

Her heart ached at the sincerity in his voice, and she looked at him, tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm scared, Stiles. I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me."

He squeezed her hand, his gaze steady. "We've all made our choices, Cami. And my choice is to stand by you, no matter what."

She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked, his tone light.

"For being you," she said, her voice breaking slightly.

Stiles smiled, wrapping an arm around her. "Always."

For the first time that day, the weight on her chest felt a little lighter. Whatever the Alphas had planned, she knew she wouldn't face it alone.