The tension in Derek's loft was thick, the air charged with unspoken urgency. Stella stood near the window, her arms crossed as she stared out at the darkened streets of Beacon Hills. Scott leaned against the table, his face set in a grim expression, while Stiles paced the room, muttering to himself. Derek stood in the center, his presence commanding, his voice calm but firm.
"We have to leave," Derek said, breaking the silence. "The hunters know who you are now, and they won't stop until they've taken both of you down."
Scott pushed off the table, his jaw tightening. "We can handle this. We've fought off hunters before."
"Not like this," Derek replied, his tone cutting. "This isn't a handful of amateurs. Marcus and his group are trained, organized, and they know exactly what they're doing. You're not just targets—they're hunting you like animals."
Stella turned from the window, her voice sharp. "So, what? We're just supposed to run? Leave everything behind?"
"Yes," Derek said without hesitation. "If you want to stay alive."
Stiles stopped pacing, his hands on his hips. "Okay, but what's the plan here? Hide in the woods forever? That doesn't seem like a great long-term solution."
Derek glared at him, but Stiles didn't back down.
"There's a safe house," Derek said, ignoring Stiles's sarcasm. "Far enough from here that Marcus's group won't find us right away. It's isolated, secure, and gives us time to regroup. Scott, Stella, you need to focus on strengthening your abilities. You're not ready to face what's coming."
Scott's shoulders slumped, but he nodded reluctantly. "Fine. If this is what we have to do to keep everyone safe, we'll go."
Stella's heart sank. Leaving Beacon Hills meant leaving her mom, Allison, and everything she'd ever known. But the memory of the hunters' traps, the fear in Alex's eyes, and the weight of Derek's words left little room for argument.
Stiles cleared his throat. "I'm coming too."
Derek immediately shook his head. "No. You'll only slow us down."
"Yeah, well, that's not your decision to make," Stiles shot back, stepping closer to Derek. "I'm not letting Stella go without me. End of story."
"Stiles," Stella said softly, her chest tightening.
He turned to her, his expression serious. "You're my best friend, Stella. I'm not letting you go through this alone."
Derek growled in frustration but didn't argue further. "Fine. But if you get yourself killed, it's not my responsibility."
"Noted," Stiles muttered, a flicker of relief crossing his face.
The next few hours were a blur of hurried packing and quiet goodbyes. Stella struggled to hold back tears as she hugged her mom tightly in the living room.
"I don't like this," Melissa said, her voice trembling. "But if Derek says it's the only way, I trust him. Just… take care of each other, okay?"
"We will," Stella promised, her voice barely above a whisper.
Scott hugged their mom next, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "We'll come back," he said. "I swear."
Melissa nodded, her hands shaking as she brushed his hair back. "Just stay safe. That's all that matters."
By the time they loaded into Derek's black SUV, the weight of what they were leaving behind settled heavily on Stella's chest. She sat in the backseat beside Stiles, who was unusually quiet. Scott sat up front with Derek, his face set in a determined mask.
As the car rumbled to life and pulled away from the house, Stella glanced out the window, watching Beacon Hills fade into the distance. Her mind raced with questions and fears, but one thought kept rising to the surface: What if we don't come back?
"You okay?" Stiles asked, his voice soft.
She turned to him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Not really."
Stiles nodded, his hand brushing hers. "For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing."
"Leaving doesn't feel right," Stella murmured.
"Maybe not," Stiles said, his voice steadier now. "But staying would've felt worse."
She let out a shaky breath, squeezing his hand briefly before looking away. His presence was a small comfort, a reminder that even in the chaos, she wasn't alone.
Hours later, they arrived at the safe house—a rustic cabin nestled deep in the woods, far from any town or road. The air was crisp and still, the only sound the rustle of leaves in the wind. Derek parked the car and stepped out, scanning the area before motioning for the others to follow.
"This is home for now," Derek said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The cabin was simple: one main room with a fireplace, a small kitchen, and two bedrooms. Stella set her bag down by the couch, feeling a pang of longing for her real home.
Scott walked over, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We'll get through this," he said. "Together."
Stiles dropped his bag by the door, looking around with wide eyes. "So… anyone else feel like we're in the opening scene of a horror movie?"
Stella couldn't help but laugh, the sound breaking through the heaviness in the room. "Thanks for the reassurance, Stiles."
"Anytime," he said, grinning.
Derek, already unpacking supplies, shot them an annoyed look. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, we start training. You'll need it."
As the group settled in for the night, Stella curled up on the couch, her mind racing. They had escaped Beacon Hills, but danger still lurked in the shadows. The hunters wouldn't stop, and the fight was far from over.
But as she glanced at Scott and Stiles, she felt a flicker of hope. They were together, and for now, that was enough.