The next morning dawned gray and overcast, the forest shrouded in mist that clung to the trees like a veil. Stella stretched as she stepped outside, the damp air sharp against her skin. The faint smell of pine and earth lingered, but there was something else—something faint and metallic that set her teeth on edge.
"Do you smell that?" Scott asked, stepping out of the cabin behind her. His brows furrowed as he sniffed the air, his heightened senses picking up the same trace.
"Yeah," Stella replied, her stomach tightening. "It's faint, but it's there."
Derek emerged next, his expression darkening immediately. "Blood," he said flatly. "And it's fresh."
Minutes later, the group was moving through the dense woods, following the scent. Derek led the way, his movements silent and calculated. Scott and Stella stayed close behind, their senses on high alert. Stiles trailed at the back, clutching a flashlight even though the morning light was enough to guide them.
"You'd think after all this time, I'd get used to the whole 'tracking ominous smells through creepy woods' thing," Stiles muttered. "Spoiler alert: I haven't."
Stella glanced back at him, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the tension. "You didn't have to come," she teased.
"And miss out on all this?" Stiles gestured around them. "No way."
His humor was comforting, but Stella's focus quickly returned to the task at hand as the scent of blood grew stronger. The air felt heavier, the stillness of the forest pressing down on them like a weight.
"There," Derek said, pointing ahead.
In the clearing, they found the source. A large wolf, not fully transformed, lay on its side, its fur matted with blood. It was breathing shallowly, its body trembling with each ragged inhale.
Scott knelt beside it immediately. "It's hurt, but it's still alive," he said, his voice low. He reached out carefully, his fingers brushing against the wolf's fur.
Stella hesitated, her instincts screaming that something wasn't right. "Why would a werewolf be out here alone?" she asked.
"Maybe it's from the rogue pack," Derek said, his tone grim. "Or maybe the hunters got to it first."
Stiles stood back, his flashlight trembling slightly. "Uh, I hate to be the guy who states the obvious, but what if this is a trap?"
Derek turned to him, his eyes narrowing. "It doesn't matter. We don't leave our own behind."
Stiles muttered something under his breath but didn't argue further.
They carried the injured wolf back to the cabin, placing it on a makeshift bed in the corner. As Scott and Derek worked to treat its wounds, Stella stood nearby, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"Something's off," she said quietly to Stiles, who stood beside her. "This doesn't feel right."
"I know," Stiles replied, his voice equally low. "Derek seems convinced it's just another werewolf, but what if it's not?"
Before Stella could respond, the wolf stirred, its body shifting slightly. Its eyes flickered open, glowing an unnatural yellow. A low growl rumbled from its chest, and everyone froze.
"Easy," Scott said gently, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "We're not going to hurt you."
The wolf's growl deepened, its body tense as it tried to rise. Stella stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. "You're safe here," she said. "We just want to help."
For a moment, the growling stopped, and the wolf's glowing eyes locked onto hers. But then, with a sudden burst of strength, it lunged, its claws swiping toward her.
Stella barely had time to react before Derek intercepted, tackling the wolf to the ground. It thrashed wildly, its snarls echoing through the cabin.
"Scott, help me!" Derek shouted.
Scott jumped in, grabbing the wolf's hind legs and pinning it down. Stella stood frozen, her heart racing as she watched the chaotic scene unfold. The wolf's movements were frenzied, its eyes wild with fear and rage.
"Stella!" Stiles's voice snapped her out of her daze. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, her breath coming in short gasps. "Yeah. I'm fine."
"Then maybe don't stand so close to the murder wolf!" Stiles said, his voice high-pitched with panic.
After what felt like an eternity, the wolf's struggles slowed, and its body went limp. Scott and Derek carefully stepped back, watching it closely.
"It's calming down," Scott said, his voice breathless. "But there's something wrong with it. It's not just hurt—it's like it's… sick."
Derek knelt beside the wolf, his expression hard. "Wolfsbane," he said, his voice laced with anger. "It's been poisoned."
"That explains the erratic behavior," Scott said, frowning. "But why would it attack us?"
"Because it's desperate," Derek replied. "And because whatever pack it came from probably abandoned it."
The words hit Stella like a punch to the gut. She thought of Alex, of how close he'd come to losing himself completely. This wolf—whoever it was—had been left to die, and it had nearly taken them all down with it.
Later that night, Stella sat on the porch with Stiles, the cool air doing little to calm her frayed nerves. The events of the day played over and over in her mind, each detail sharpening her unease.
"I hate this," she said finally, breaking the silence. "I hate that it feels like we're always one step behind."
"We're not," Stiles said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "You and Scott—you're stronger than you realize. And Derek? Well, he's Derek. He's not going to let anything happen to you."
She turned to him, her chest tightening. "And you? What about you, Stiles?"
He blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Me?"
"Yeah," she said, her voice softening. "You've been here through all of this, risking your life. Why?"
His eyes met hers, and for a moment, the air between them felt electric. "Because you're worth it," he said simply.
Her breath caught, and she looked away, her cheeks burning. "Thanks," she murmured.
"Anytime," he replied, his voice lighter now. "But seriously, Stella, we've got this. All of us. You're not alone in this fight."
The morning was unnervingly quiet, the stillness of the forest pressing against the walls of the cabin like a warning. Stella woke with a start, her senses already on edge. She sat up on the couch, glancing at the corner where the injured wolf lay. Its breathing was shallow, its body still. Scott and Derek had stayed up most of the night monitoring it, but now the room was empty except for her and the wolf.
Stiles shuffled out of the kitchen, holding two mugs of coffee. "Morning," he said, setting one down on the table in front of her. "How's Cujo doing?"
"Still out," Stella said, her voice low. She glanced at the wolf, unease settling in her chest. "Derek said it was poisoned with wolfsbane, but it feels… wrong. Like there's something else going on."
Stiles frowned, sitting beside her. "Wrong how?"
"I don't know," she admitted, her fingers wrapping around the warm mug. "It's just a feeling."
Before Stiles could respond, the door opened, and Derek strode in, followed closely by Scott. Derek's expression was grim, his movements purposeful as he crossed the room.
"It's time to talk to him," Derek said, jerking his head toward the wolf.
"Talk to him?" Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow. "In case you missed it, Derek, he's currently in 'wolf mode.' Not exactly chatty."
"He's not fully gone," Derek said, ignoring Stiles's sarcasm. "If we can get him to shift back, we might be able to get some answers. But it's going to take all of us."
The group gathered around the wolf, their movements cautious. Scott crouched closest, his voice calm and steady. "Hey," he said softly. "I know you're scared. But we're not here to hurt you."
The wolf's ears twitched, and its glowing yellow eyes opened, fixing on Scott. A low growl rumbled from its chest, but it didn't move.
"You need to shift back," Derek said, his tone firm but not unkind. "If you stay like this, the wolfsbane will kill you."
Stella stepped forward, her heart pounding. "You don't have to be afraid," she said, her voice gentle. "We can help you, but you have to trust us."
For a long moment, the wolf didn't react. Then, slowly, its body began to convulse, the fur receding and claws retracting. Stella held her breath as the transformation completed, leaving a young man lying on the makeshift bed. His chest heaved, his skin pale and clammy.
"Who are you?" Derek asked, his voice sharp. "Where's your pack?"
The man struggled to sit up, his movements weak. "I… I don't have a pack," he said, his voice rasping. "Not anymore."
Scott exchanged a wary glance with Stella. "What happened?"
"They turned on me," the man said, his eyes filled with fear. "I didn't want to hurt anyone, but the Alpha… he made us. If we disobeyed, he…" His voice broke, and he looked away.
"The Alpha forced you to attack people?" Stella asked, her stomach churning.
He nodded. "We didn't have a choice. But when I refused… he said I was weak. He said I wasn't part of the pack anymore."
Derek's jaw tightened. "Where is he now?"
The man hesitated, glancing nervously at the group. "I don't know. He moves constantly, keeps us scattered so no one can track him. But he'll come back. He always does."
The weight of the man's words lingered long after he had fallen back into an uneasy sleep. Derek paced the room, his frustration evident. "An Alpha who's forcing his pack to attack people—it's worse than I thought."
"Worse how?" Scott asked, leaning against the wall.
"If he's using fear and control to keep his pack in line, it means he's dangerous. And desperate," Derek said. "That makes him unpredictable."
Stiles, sitting cross-legged on the floor, frowned. "So, what's the plan? Wait for him to show up and hope we don't all get torn apart?"
"No," Derek said firmly. "We don't wait. We go after him."
Stella's eyes widened. "Go after him? We don't even know where he is."
"Not yet," Derek admitted. "But if this guy is right, the Alpha will come looking for him. He's already marked this territory—we just need to lure him out."
"Lure him out?" Stiles repeated, his voice rising. "Oh, yeah, that sounds totally safe. Let's just wave a big neon sign saying, 'Come kill us.'"
"It's the only way," Derek said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "If we let him stay in control, more people will die."
Scott crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. "We'll do it. But we need to be ready. Stella and I need more training if we're going to face an Alpha."
"You'll get it," Derek said. "Starting now."
The rest of the day was grueling. Derek pushed Stella and Scott harder than ever, forcing them to rely on their instincts and sharpen their control. They practiced fighting blindfolded, using only their hearing and smell to guide them. They ran drills until Stella's legs felt like jelly, but she refused to quit.
"Again," Derek barked, his voice sharp.
Stella clenched her fists, breathing heavily as she reset her stance. She could feel her wolf instincts simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to break free. She had to keep it in check—had to prove to herself that she could control it.
"Focus on your anchor," Scott said quietly, stepping beside her. "What keeps you grounded?"
Stiles's voice echoed in her mind: "You're stronger than you think." She exhaled slowly, her body relaxing as she centered herself.
When Derek signaled, she moved, her reflexes faster and sharper than before. This time, she landed the blow, knocking Scott off balance and pinning him to the ground.
"Good," Derek said, nodding in approval. "That's progress."
Stella helped Scott to his feet, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Not bad, huh?"
"Not bad," Scott agreed, grinning. "But don't get cocky."
That night, Stella sat by the fire, her body aching but her mind clearer than it had been in weeks. Stiles joined her, plopping down with his usual dramatic flair.
"Look at you," he said, gesturing to her with a proud smile. "Official badass werewolf in the making."
She laughed softly, leaning back against the couch. "I don't feel like a badass. I feel like I got hit by a truck."
"Same difference," he said, bumping her shoulder. "But seriously, you're doing amazing. I mean, Derek didn't even yell at you today. That's got to be a record."
"Thanks, Stiles," she said, her voice soft.
His grin faded slightly, replaced by a quieter sincerity. "Anytime, Stell. You know I've got your back, right?"
She nodded, the warmth in his voice wrapping around her like a blanket. "I know."