The morning came earlier than Stella wanted. The faint light streaming through the windows cast long shadows across the cabin's wooden floor, and the quiet stillness was broken only by the faint chirping of birds outside. Her muscles ached, and her mind was still weighed down by the events of the past few days. But there was no time to rest.
Derek was already outside when Stella stepped onto the porch, sipping a lukewarm cup of coffee. He was pacing near the treeline, his sharp gaze scanning the forest. Scott stood nearby, his arms crossed, the tension in his body matching Derek's.
"What's going on?" Stella asked, her voice still rough from sleep.
"Movement," Derek said without turning around. "It's faint, but I've been tracking it for the past hour. Someone's close."
"More rogues?" Scott asked, his voice low.
"Could be," Derek replied. "Or it could be a scout checking to see if we're vulnerable."
Stiles appeared behind Stella, yawning and running a hand through his messy hair. "What is it now? Did another wolf forget to RSVP before sneaking through the woods?"
Derek shot him a glare but said nothing. Stella shook her head, biting back a smile. "Stiles, not now."
"I'm just saying," Stiles muttered, stepping past her and squinting into the trees. "Can't we get one day without some supernatural drama?"
"Not while we're still breathing," Derek said, his tone clipped. "Scott, Stella—get ready. We're going out to check the perimeter."
They moved silently through the forest, the air thick with tension. Stella stayed close to Scott, her heightened senses on high alert. Stiles trailed behind them, his flashlight swinging back and forth despite the daylight.
"What exactly are we looking for?" Stella asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Anything out of place," Derek said from up ahead. "Broken branches, fresh claw marks, scents that don't belong. Anything."
Stella sniffed the air, her wolf instincts kicking in. The forest smelled damp and earthy, but there was something faint and sharp beneath it. She frowned, her steps slowing as she focused on the scent.
"I smell something," she said, stopping beside a cluster of trees. "Metallic. Like… blood."
Derek turned, his expression darkening. "Where?"
Stella pointed to a nearby tree, where the scent was strongest. Derek crouched, his sharp eyes scanning the ground. "Fresh," he muttered. "Someone passed through here recently—and they weren't careful."
Scott stepped closer, his brow furrowed. "Do you think they're still nearby?"
"Probably," Derek said, standing. "Stay close. And stay quiet."
They followed the trail deeper into the forest, the faint scent of blood leading them to a small clearing. Stella's heart raced as they approached, her claws itching to extend. The air felt heavier here, the stillness unnatural.
"Something's wrong," Scott said, his voice tense.
Stella nodded, her eyes scanning the clearing. The grass was flattened in places, and there were fresh claw marks gouged into a nearby tree. But what caught her attention was the faint outline of a figure slumped against a rock.
"Over there," she said, pointing.
They approached cautiously, Derek leading the way. The figure was a man, his clothes torn and stained with blood. His breathing was shallow, and his eyes fluttered open as they drew near.
"Help…" he rasped, his voice barely audible.
Scott knelt beside him, his expression softening. "What happened?"
The man coughed, blood staining his lips. "The Alpha… he's not dead. He's—" His words were cut off by another coughing fit, his body trembling.
Derek's jaw tightened. "That's impossible. We killed him."
The man shook his head weakly. "He's stronger than you think. He'll come for you. All of you."
The man passed out before he could say more, his body limp. Scott checked his pulse, frowning. "He's alive, but barely. We need to get him back to the cabin."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Stiles asked, his voice edged with worry. "What if he's leading us into a trap?"
"Then we'll deal with it," Derek said. "But if he knows something, we need to hear it."
Stella glanced at Stiles, her own doubts mirrored in his expression. But there was no time to argue. Together, they carefully lifted the man and began the trek back to the cabin.
Back at the cabin, the man was laid on the couch, his wounds cleaned and bandaged. Derek stood over him like a sentinel, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. Scott paced the room, his frustration evident.
"If the Alpha's still alive…" Scott began, his voice trailing off.
"He's not," Derek said firmly. "I saw him go down. This has to be something else."
"But what if it's not?" Stella asked, her voice quiet but steady. "What if we missed something?"
Derek didn't answer, his gaze locked on the unconscious man. The silence in the room was deafening, the weight of the possibility hanging over them like a storm cloud.
Later that night, Stella sat outside with Stiles, the cool air biting at her skin. The stars were bright overhead, but they offered little comfort. Her mind raced with questions she couldn't answer, her chest tight with unease.
"You okay?" Stiles asked, his voice soft.
"No," she admitted. "What if the Alpha really is still alive? What if we didn't finish it?"
Stiles leaned back against the porch railing, his expression thoughtful. "Then we do what we've always done: face it together."
She looked at him, her chest tightening. "How do you always manage to stay so calm?"
"I don't," he said with a small laugh. "I'm a mess most of the time. But when it comes to you… I don't know. I just want to be strong for you."
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she didn't know what to say. "Thanks, Stiles," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Always," he replied, his brown eyes steady and sure.
The next morning, tension filled the cabin like a thick fog. The injured man still hadn't woken up, his breathing shallow as he lay on the couch. Derek stood by the window, his sharp gaze fixed on the forest beyond, while Scott paced back and forth near the table, his frustration growing with every minute of silence.
Stella sat at the table, sipping a cup of coffee that had long gone cold. Her thoughts were a whirlwind—memories of the battle with the Alpha, the man's warning, and the possibility that their victory had been a hollow one.
"Do we just keep waiting?" Scott finally asked, breaking the silence. "What if he never wakes up?"
"He will," Derek said, his voice firm. "But until then, we need to prepare for the possibility that he was telling the truth."
Stiles, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a notebook in his lap, tapped his pen against the page. "So, hypothetically, if the Alpha is alive, how does that work? Are we talking zombie werewolf? Because that's… new."
Derek shot him a glare. "It's not a zombie."
"Okay, well, what then?" Stiles asked, unphased. "Because last time I checked, dead usually means dead."
"Not always," Derek said, his tone grim. "Alphas are stronger than most. If we didn't fully sever his connection to his power, there's a chance he could regenerate. Slowly, but it's possible."
Stella frowned, setting her mug down. "So, we might have left him alive without realizing it?"
"It's not your fault," Scott said quickly, his gaze darting to her. "We all thought it was over."
"It doesn't matter what we thought," Derek said. "What matters is what we do now."
The injured man stirred just after noon, his groan breaking the tense quiet. Stella was the first to his side, her heart pounding as his eyes fluttered open.
"Hey," she said softly. "Can you hear me?"
He nodded weakly, his voice rasping when he spoke. "Where… where am I?"
"You're safe," Scott said, stepping closer. "But we need you to tell us what happened. What did you mean when you said the Alpha isn't dead?"
The man's gaze shifted between them, his fear evident. "You didn't finish it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You think you killed him, but you didn't. He's still out there. And he's angry."
Derek's jaw tightened. "Where is he?"
The man shook his head. "I don't know. He's weak, hiding, but he's rebuilding. And when he's strong enough…" His voice broke, his eyes filled with terror. "He'll come for all of you."
The cabin felt colder after the man's warning. Derek disappeared outside, muttering about tracking any lingering scents, while Scott sat at the table, his head in his hands. Stiles paced the room, his usual humor replaced by nervous energy.
"So, let me get this straight," Stiles said. "The psychotic Alpha we thought we killed is actually alive, biding his time, and probably plotting how to kill us all. Sound about right?"
"That about sums it up," Stella said, her voice hollow.
Stiles stopped pacing, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "Hey. We're going to get through this. We've done it before, right?"
Stella nodded, though the knot in her chest remained. "This feels different, Stiles. Like no matter what we do, it's never enough."
"It's enough," he said firmly. "You're enough."
Her breath caught, and she looked away, the warmth in his voice both comforting and overwhelming. "Thanks," she murmured.
"Anytime," he replied, his voice lighter now. "But for the record, I'm still voting for a zombie werewolf. Makes the story way cooler."
She couldn't help but smile, the weight on her chest easing just slightly.
That evening, the group gathered around the table, the map spread out once again. Derek had returned with grim news: the Alpha's scent was faint but present in several areas surrounding the cabin. He was closer than they'd thought.
"He's testing us," Derek said, his voice sharp. "Watching, waiting for the right moment to strike."
"So, what do we do?" Scott asked. "Do we go after him again?"
"We have to," Derek said. "But we do it right this time. No mistakes."
"Easier said than done," Stiles muttered, earning another glare from Derek.
"We start tomorrow," Derek continued, ignoring him. "First light. Stella, Scott—you're stronger than before, but you'll need to be even sharper. No holding back."
Stella nodded, her determination solidifying. "We'll be ready."
Later that night, Stella found herself back on the porch, the cool air biting at her skin. She stared out at the dark forest, her mind racing with possibilities. The Alpha was still out there, and the fight was far from over.
"Can't sleep?" Stiles's voice broke through her thoughts.
She turned to see him stepping onto the porch, a blanket draped over his shoulders. "Not really," she admitted. "Too much on my mind."
He sat beside her, the blanket slipping from one shoulder as he leaned back against the railing. "You know, you've got this," he said after a moment. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."
She smiled faintly, her gaze dropping to her hands. "You keep saying that."
"Because it's true," he said, his voice steady. "I've seen it, Stella. You've come so far."
Her chest tightened, the weight of his words settling over her. "What if it's not enough?"
"It is," he said simply. "And you're not doing this alone. You've got Scott, Derek… and me."
She looked at him, her heart catching at the sincerity in his eyes. "Thanks, Stiles," she said softly.
"Always," he replied, his grin returning. "Now, go get some sleep. You're going to need it when we face off against Werewolf Terminator tomorrow."
She laughed, the sound lightening the heavy tension in her chest. For a moment, the fear and doubt faded, replaced by the quiet comfort of his presence. Together, they would face whatever came next. And this time, they wouldn't stop until the Alpha was truly defeated.