Lucy's heart thudded against her chest like a caged animal, wild with fear and desire as she stood before Derek. The walls of the room seemed to close in on her, suffocating her with tension and anticipation. She bit her lip, unable to meet his intense gaze, feeling both weak and defiant as she pressed herself against the cold, unforgiving plaster.
"I...I can't," she choked out, voice quivering with raw emotion. Her cheeks burned with a mix of shame and longing as she stumbled backwards, desperate for space. The memory of Derek's earlier promise—of strength, freedom, and escape—pulsed between them, electrifying the air with a dangerous energy that she was too afraid to embrace.
Derek's jaw clenched tightly, eyes never leaving hers as he measured her carefully. In a moment of tense silence, the only sounds were the low hum of the lights above and the frantic beat of Lucy's heartbeat. He tilted his head, as if assessing her worth, then spoke in a voice laced with hunger and dominance.
"You don't have to live in fear, Lucy. With me, you will have everything—protection, power, and the strength to conquer all. I can make you unstoppable," he purred, his hand hovering near her cheek like a tempting invitation to a forbidden world. But behind the seductive facade, his eyes revealed a whirlwind of emotions far beyond mere lust.
Lucy's breath hitched, and she clutched the edge of the bedside table for support. "Derek," she managed, her voice trembling, "That would be crazy… I can't take that bite."
The words fell between them like fragile glass shards. Derek's eyes flickered with a mixture of disappointment and something deeper—a longing he tried desperately to mask behind cool detachment. His hand paused, then slowly retreated, as though the physical distance would help quell the storm raging within him.
"Is this why you really came here—to offer me the bite?" Lucy demanded, her tone laced with equal parts accusation and disbelief. She fixed her gaze on Derek, the question heavy with the memory of past manipulations. In that single, charged moment, she wondered if his offer was nothing more than a cruel echo of what he'd done to Erica and Isaac: preying on their vulnerabilities in moments of despair to bind them to him.
Derek's jaw tensed as he met her stare. His eyes, dark and stormy, betrayed a turbulent mixture of longing and determination. He had planned to use this moment to draw her closer, to seal their pact with the promise of unyielding strength—a strength that would free her from the terror that had haunted her for too long. But as Lucy's voice cut through the silence, he realized that what she feared was not simply his offer, but the insidious way in which he had turned personal tragedy into power.
Derek's throat felt raw, every unsaid word echoing in the charged silence that had fallen between them. He wanted nothing more than to come clean—to tell Lucy exactly how desperately he craved her, how every fiber of his alpha nature ached for a companion who could stand beside him in this brutal, unpredictable world. Yet he couldn't simply confess, "I want you," because even as his eyes burned with unspoken desire, he was painfully aware that his offer—the bite, the promise of power—smacked of predation. Was that what Lucy truly deserved? To be used as a pawn, her vulnerabilities exploited in the name of survival?
Lucy's gaze held Derek's, searching and unyielding. Her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts as she considered his offer to escape the life she knew as a werewolf. Images of her younger brother's painful transformation flashed through her mind, reminding her of the chaos and danger that came with being part of their kind. But here was Derek, offering her an opportunity to break free from it all. Yet, the price for this freedom was uncertain and daunting. As she sat in the stillness of her room, every betrayal and moment of abuse at the hands of Tyler resurfaced, weighing heavily on her heart. He still lingered like a ghost from a darker past, haunting her with his control and manipulation. The thought of finally leaving that suffocating relationship both terrified and tempted her. She longed for a life where she could be close with her family without the constant threat of Tyler's dominance. But the idea of changing into something as irreversible as a werewolf sent shivers down her spine, stirring up a mix of fear and curiosity within her.
For a long, heavy moment, neither spoke. The air between them throbbed with unspoken tension—a delicate balance of fear and yearning. Lucy's mind whirled: How could she leave Tyler behind? Even though his abuse had marred her life, a part of her still clung to the familiarity of his cruelty. Leaving him meant severing a tie that, twisted though it was, had defined so much of her existence. It was not just about escaping physical harm; it was about the terror of change, of losing the only life she'd ever known. And then there was Scott—the guilt of betraying her little brother's trust if she accepted Derek's offer. The thought of his protectiveness, his silent promise to shield her from all harm, tugged painfully at her heart.
Though, despite the chaos and fear that consumed her, Lucy couldn't ignore Derek's persistent presence. His eyes seemed to hold a connection that was both enticing and terrifying. She could feel his offer pulling at her, promising strength, liberation, and a chance for true intimacy. But at what cost? Would accepting his offer mean giving up her own agency? Could she trust him, or was he just another predator disguised as a savior? As much as she longed for a fresh start and to break free from her circumstances, the uncertainty of it all left her conflicted and unsure of what to do.
"Derek?" Lucy's voice trembled as she finally found the courage. "What do you really want from me?"
For a split second, Derek froze—truly caught off guard by the raw vulnerability in her question. It was as if Lucy had peered right into his soul, unmasking everything he had tried so desperately to keep hidden. Yet, even in that moment of exposure, Derek knew better than to rush his reply. He was acutely aware of Lucy's delicate nature; behind those soft brown eyes, a maelstrom of emotions and possibilities churned, and every word he chose would have to be measured with care. He took a slow breath, fighting against the storm of desire and regret that threatened to spill over, knowing that how he answered now could alter everything.
Derek drew a long, steadying breath. He couldn't afford to rush—especially not now. Even though the memory of his touch against her skin still sent shivers up his spine, the way tonight had shifted the energy between them was different, more layered. Lucy's question had laid everything bare, and with it came a torrent of emotion that he had long tried to keep at bay. In that raw, vulnerable moment, he realized that giving her the bite—forcing her into his world with its unyielding, binding loyalty—was not the answer. He needed more than a momentary lust; he needed to truly know her, to see every shade of her heart and gain her trust, perhaps even earn her love.
He didn't want to be driven solely by desire anymore. Instead, he yearned for a deeper connection—one built on patience, understanding, and mutual respect. Slowly, he let the tension ease from his shoulders, his brows unclenching as he allowed a small, confident smirk to play at the corner of his lips. Meeting her gaze again with quiet determination, he finally broke the silence.
"I want you to want this." Derek's words, low and loaded, sent a shiver through the dim light of Lucy's room. He chuckled softly at the double entendre swirling in his mind, his eyes never leaving hers.
"The bite?" Lucy echoed, tilting her head in a mix of curiosity and confusion.
"Sure," Derek replied quickly, his tone brisk as he shifted his weight toward the door, preparing to leave.
A deep, disheartening disappointment washed over Lucy. There was something inherently like Derek Hale in his answer—mysterious and elusive—leaving her suspended in uncertainty. She watched him begin to walk away, a smug, knowing look playing on his lips, as if he had uncovered a secret that she herself was still trying desperately to grasp.
At the door, just as his hand hovered for a moment on the frame, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Lucy McCall..." he began, his voice softening as if he were on the verge of saying more.
But then, without finishing his sentence, he simply turned and exited, the sound of the door closing echoing in the quiet. Lucy stood there, rooted in place, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting desires. Part of her yearned to chase after him—to beg him, plead even, for that transformative bite and the promise of escaping the chaos that had defined her life for so long. Yet, another part of her was paralyzed by fear: fear of the unknown, of leaving behind the only life she had ever known, of hurting those she still cared for.
Minutes stretched on in agonizing silence. Lucy remained frozen, caught in the grip of her inner conflict. The room, bathed in soft light and lingering tension, held its breath as she contemplated what it would mean to let him in—to let him change.
The weight of Derek's offer clung to Lucy throughout the next day at school. Her work dragged on interminably, and even as she mechanically checked off assignments, her thoughts were elsewhere—lost in the hazy echo of Derek's parting words. The only respite came in the anticipation of her brother's big lacrosse game that night—a small beacon of normalcy in a day otherwise overshadowed by uncertainty. Even the looming confrontation with Tyler had faded into the background, swallowed up by the persistent, magnetic pull of Derek Hale
Every detail of the morning felt tinted by his presence. Lucy couldn't shake the image of him from her mind—the way his words had left a lingering heat, the subtle, dangerous promise in his gaze. What made matters even more complicated was that Scott had spent the night on edge, being able to catch the scent of Derek throughout the house. His constant vigilance, his barely concealed tension about the lingering scent of Derek in their home, had cast a pall over their morning routine. It wasn't long before Lucy found herself almost compelled to attend the game as a peace offering—an attempt, perhaps, to smooth over the rift that had formed between her and her little brother.
She couldn't quite believe that she'd found herself in trouble with Scott—trouble over being seen with another grown man. The very idea was absurd, yet beneath her rational mind, a guilt simmered. In that tangled web of emotions, part of her resented the secret thrill of Derek's attention, while another part of her felt an inexplicable remorse at the thought of betraying her brother's trust. It was a conflict that left her both bewildered and strangely hopeful, as she prepared herself to face the evening, wondering how much longer this delicate balance could last.
Lucy didn't really understand lacrosse, but tonight she forced herself to focus on the game—anything to distract from the turmoil inside. Wrapped in the chill of the night air, she sat on the bleachers as teenage boys collided and clashed on the field. Every play, every move, was a welcome diversion, a way to block out the gnawing conflicts of her own life. Yet as the game raged on, Lucy couldn't shake the underlying awkwardness; her mother was nowhere to be seen, leaving her to face the bustling, rowdy crowd all alone.
There was another reason, of course, that Lucy was here without her mother. Stiles, Scott, and Allison had hatched a plan to sneak into her grandfather's office at the school—and since Lucy was a faculty member, she fit right in to help them out. It wasn't as blatantly illegal as breaking someone out of jail, but it still danced dangerously close to the edge of the rules. Regardless, she found herself knee-deep in aiding Scott's desperate quest to uncover the identity of the new creature terrorizing Beacon Hills—a mission she hoped might distract him from the lingering memory of her nocturnal encounter with Derek Hale.
Just the thought of Derek sent shivers cascading down her spine. Lucy couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that he might be out there right now, hidden in the shadows as usual, his presence omnipresent—watching, knowing, and perhaps even pondering her every move.
The moment Stiles's raucous cue cut through the turmoil of her thoughts about Derek, Lucy's focus snapped back. His loud, exaggerated cursing as he strode past—heading straight toward Allison, who was discreetly slipping him the keys to the office—was the only signal she needed. Standing there, she knew it was time to follow him and meet him at the entrance. If Stiles got caught snooping around, she'd be there to help him cook up a plausible excuse for being inside the school after hours. It was a messy, high-stakes plan—typical of her brother and his friends—but at this point, it was the only approach they seemed capable of. Lucy took a deep, steadying breath, gathering herself as she moved toward the door. Every step was laced with the anxiety of the night's earlier chaos and the overwhelming weight of her personal conflicts. Yet the plan was clear: support her brother, no matter how ridiculous it seemed.
As Stiles slipped out of view, Lucy quickened her pace to follow, matching his stride as he neared the school's side entrance. Stiles glanced over his shoulder and flashed her a quick, conspiratorial smile. Before he could beam too happily, Lucy interrupted, a note of dry amusement in her voice, "I'm only keeping watch, right?"
Stiles grinned, "I mean, yeah, but where's the fun in that?"
"This isn't fun—it's serious and dumb," Lucy snapped, her tone edged with impatience. "So let's just hurry up, please."
"Trust me, nothing is going to go wrong at all…" Stiles trailed off, his voice softening as he relaxed his pace, striding confidently toward the entrance.
Lucy pulled her jacket tighter around her as a cold wind tore through the parking lot, making her shiver. She was placing not only her faith—but her job—in Stiles's hands tonight, so she silently prayed he was right.
Then, Stiles halted abruptly, his eyes locking onto a car parked alone in the lot. Lucy followed his gaze, her heart pounding as she hoped it was nothing more than something minor that had frozen him in his tracks. But as the details came into focus, it was clear: it was Lydia Martin, alone in her car, her shoulders shaking with distress.
Without hesitation, Lucy shot daggers at Stiles. "No. You can talk to her after."
"She's crying," Stiles pleaded, his voice laced with desperation as he fidgeted, torn between the plan and his concern for Lydia.
Lucy knew how much this meant to Stiles—his lifelong, unrequited crush—and though it pained her to play along, she also recognized that sometimes family had to make sacrifices. With an exasperated sigh and a little stomp of her foot, she conceded, "Alright, what exactly am I looking for?"
Stiles's face lit up with unbridled excitement. "A book!" he blurted out before practically darting away. "Something old-timey—a book that looks like it could contain a whole dictionary of mythical creatures!"
Lucy arched an incredulous brow, still reeling at the thought that their small town could be hiding such secrets. Shaking her head with a small smile tugging at her lips, she extended her hand. "Hand me the keys, will you?"
With a playful roll of his eyes, Stiles almost tossed the keys into her waiting palm before he broke off, dashing off to comfort Lydia. Lucy only allowed herself a brief moment to savor the image of him having his one-on-one time with the girl - though she quickly buried that pride under the weight of more pressing responsibilities.
There was no time for idle triumph as Lucy briskly made her way toward the school. She swiped open the front doors with practiced ease and started jogging to the principal's office, her heart pounding with the constant, gnawing fear that someone might casually wander in and demand answers about her secretive late-night errands. This perpetual anxiety was why she kept the lights dimmed in the office, letting only the cool, unyielding moonlight illuminate the space so she could silently check that every detail was just as it should be.
As Lucy methodically rearranged the clutter on her desk, her practiced precision did little to ease the rising tide of frustration. This was a school, after all—no secret, supernatural relic was truly hidden here for long. With each careful movement, the reality that the halls of Beacon Hills could conceal so much, yet reveal even more, gnawed at her.
She reached for her silent phone, her fingers trembling as she activated the flashlight, when a presence in the doorway caught her eye. There, leaning casually with a self-assured, almost smug grin, stood Erica. The transformed girl's eyes glinted with a dangerous amusement as she tilted her head, greeting her with a crisp, "Nurse McCall."
Erica's presence exuded a palpable, almost malevolent energy that made Lucy's skin crawl. ucy didn't know what Erica wanted or why she was there, but the look in her eyes promised trouble—a dangerous mixture of defiance and something darker.
Lucy couldn't quite mask the annoyance in her tone as she addressed Erica. The memory of seeing Erica step out of Derek's car the other day flashed in her mind—a moment that mingled oddly with the charged tension she'd experienced when Derek had offered her the bite. Standing there, Lucy's gaze hardened. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice clipped with irritation. In that brief moment, she couldn't help but wonder if Derek had treated Erica the same way he had treated her—that same unspoken, dangerous invitation hidden behind his cool detachment. The thought twisted in her gut; the intimacy of that moment with Derek had been a heady mix of desire and vulnerability, one that left her uncertain whether it was meant solely for her. It only solidified the question Lucy had asked herself last night: had Derek's offer been as genuine with her as it might have been with Erica, or was it all just another cruel game?
"I was going to ask you the same thing..."
Erica stepped forward in one fluid, deliberate motion, closing the gap between them until she was nearly towering over Lucy. In that instant, Lucy felt herself shrink—not out of fear of a stranger, but because Erica's imposing presence dredged up old, painful memories. The weight of her past, of being made to feel small, pressed down on her as she struggled to meet Erica's intense gaze.
Then, as if a subtle scent had sparked a hidden truth, Erica's nose twitched. With a quiet but charged tone, she remarked, "I smell him all over you."
For a split second, Lucy was caught off guard—only then did she realize that Erica meant Derek. A surge of conflicting emotions roiled within Lucy. On one hand, there was confusion; on the other, a prickling jealousy. Could it be that Erica, too, felt something for Derek—something more than just submission to her alpha?
The tension between them deepened palpably, a silent, electric current that filled the space. Lucy's mind raced as she struggled to process the implications of Erica's words, each one fanning the flames of uncertainty and desire. In that charged moment, the room felt smaller, the air thicker, as both women stood poised on the razor's edge between rivalry and something far more intimate.
Stiles stumbled into the room, his gaze immediately drawn to the tense interaction between Lucy and Erica. He saw Erica's intimidating posture and fierce glare directed at Lucy. All thoughts of his usual cowardice vanished as he quickly moved towards Erica with the intention of separating her from Lucy. However, Erica was faster and easily snatched him up by his sweater, using her impressive strength to keep him out of her way.
Lucy's reflexes kicked in immediately as she tried to rush to Stiles' aid. But before she could reach him, Erica pushed her with such force that Lucy fell hard onto the ground.
"Hey!" Stiles roared, desperately struggling against Erica's iron grip. A surge of intense anger pulsed through him as he glanced down at Lucy, whose face was etched with shock and near-trauma from the impact.
"She's a big girl—she'll be okay," Erica sneered, her voice laced with mockery. With her free hand, she reached down and yanked Lucy up off the floor, effectively holding both her and Stiles captive in her overwhelming grasp.
Erica's strong grip didn't loosen as she dragged Lucy and Stiles out of the office and through the dimly lit corridors. The shock and fear from being pushed so forcefully left Lucy feeling paralyzed, unable to resist. She was well aware that she wouldn't stand a chance against a teenage werewolf like Erica.
Wherever Erica was taking them, Lucy could only hope that it wouldn't lead to more physical torment—especially with her back still throbbing from the collision with the wall. Part of her was in disbelief that she'd let one of her own students force her into such a paralyzing state of fear. Yet, at the same time, she couldn't fathom that this was someone operating under Derek's influence—resorting to such crude, physical methods to assert control.
Erica marched down the long, dark hallway with Stiles and Lucy in tow, her grip on them unyielding as if they were nothing more than reluctant trophies to be delivered. Lucy's heart plummeted when she caught sight of Derek pacing by the school's swimming pool, his broad silhouette outlined by the weak glow of overhead lights. It was unmistakable—this was a summons from Derek himself, and the realization stung like betrayal in Lucy's chest.
Derek had anticipated the trio's arrival. Yet nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Erica forcefully herding Lucy, practically dragging her along with a determined urgency. Rage surged through him, raw and unbridled, as he watched Lucy's eyes fill with fear and betrayal. Before Erica could even step fully into the room, Derek's low, menacing growl cut through the tense silence: "Let her go."
The words reverberated against the cold walls, and in that moment, the conflicting worlds of duty and desire, authority and vulnerability, clashed violently. Lucy stood frozen, caught between the terror of the situation and the deep, hurt betrayal pulsing through her veins. Meanwhile, Stiles and Erica halted, their expressions mirroring a mixture of confusion and apprehension as Derek's command sliced through the darkness, leaving an ominous promise hanging in the air.
A flash of terror crossed Erica's face before she released her grip on Stiles and Lucy. With a scowl, she stepped back and positioned herself behind Derek, as if to mark her place in the unfolding drama—a pawn in a game Lucy felt she'd never agreed to play. Lucy's tone was sharp as she leveled an accusing glare at Derek.
"Is this what you're really about? Using your teenagers as henchmen to attack me and Stiles?"
The words hit Derek like a physical blow. He felt a sting of hurt—how could Lucy believe he'd allow Erica to lay hands on her? Slowly, he turned to Erica and fixed her with eyes that glowed a fierce, unsettling red. The look was enough to make her recoil.
"Don't ever put your hands on her again," he commanded, his voice low and resolute.
Erica's defiance crumbled; she nodded meekly and shrank away into the shadows. Lucy stood there, conflicted and shaken. The aggressive, commanding side of Derek—the side that emerged when he was protecting his own—was something entirely new to her. It both frightened and intrigued her, leaving her with a mix of unsettled dread and a reluctant, hidden pride.
"Now," Derek said, turning his focus back to Stiles, "what were you looking for?"
Stiles groaned, the conflict between his need to get back to Lydia and his irritation at the current mess evident in his tone. "We were looking for a book—something that could explain what this thing is," he replied curtly.
"In Gerard's office?" Derek asked, his eyebrow arching in skepticism. "How would you even know what you were looking for?"
Stiles blurted out, "I saw it," as if that settled the matter.
Derek leaned in. "What exactly did you see?"
Stiles swallowed hard, then rattled off his description in a rush: "It was pretty slick-looking—skin that was dark and kind of patterned. I think I saw scales… Is that enough? 'Cause I've got someone I really need to talk to."
Before Derek could probe further, a movement on the wall caught his attention. Stiles probed on, trying to satisfy Derek's request, "Okay, um… it had eyes. They were yellowish, slitted. And—wow—it had a lot of teeth." He paused, glancing nervously at the increasingly alarmed look on Derek's face "Oh, and it had a tail. We good?"
Lucy had quickly picked up on the change in atmosphere - the werewolves now seemed poised and ready to pounce. A chill ran down her back as she looked up, her eyes widening with fear as she saw the same creature that Stiles had warned them about, its intense gaze fixed on all four of them.
Before she could fully process the horror, Derek acted. He lunged forward, grabbing Lucy and dragging her away while shouting, "Get behind me!" just as the creature leaped from its high vantage point.
Erica, desperate to protect him, darted into Derek's path. But the thing was too swift; it whipped around and shoved Erica violently across the floor. Her head slammed brutally into the wall, and in a matter of seconds, she slumped unconscious. In the chaos, Derek dropped into a low, pouncing stance, an echoing growl ripping from his throat as he prepared to defend them.
Stiles, startled out of his daze, sprang aside and shouted in alarm at the unfolding attack. In that frantic moment, all Derek could think about was Lucy's safety. With urgency, he shoved her again—this time into Stiles—while bellowing, "RUN!" simultaneously. As he did, the creature's claws sliced through the air, and its tail lashed upward, leaving a deep, searing gash along the back of Derek's neck.
Stiles had a firm grip on Lucy's arm, trying to pull her away, but her gaze was locked on the back of Derek's neck. She watched in horror as his legs buckled, his once steady stance crumbling before her eyes. In that moment, a surge of determination overtook her—her instinct to help him shattered any hold Stiles had on her. Without hesitation, she rushed forward and caught Derek as the creature's vicious attack began to take its toll, leaving the muscular alpha collapsing into her arms.
"Help me!" Lucy shouted, her voice cracking with panic as she struggled to support the weight of a man who had once commanded such power. Stiles, though clearly reluctant, stepped in and managed to shoulder the remaining burden of Derek's weight. Together, they fought to steady him, their hands trembling as they frantically searched for a way out of the chaos that now engulfed the room.
Derek leaned heavily into Lucy, his breaths coming in short gasps as he struggled to stay upright. But even in his weakened state, his eyes shone with a mix of shock and profound admiration at Lucy's raw bravery. In that fleeting, desperate moment, the unspoken bond between them seemed to glow like a beacon.
"Where is it?" Lucy demanded, her voice trembling with urgency as she scanned the chaos for any sign of the attacker. Her eyes darted around the room, searching desperately.
"I don't see it," Stiles replied, his voice heavy with confusion as he glanced over at Derek, whose body lay paralyzed. "Where'd it go?"
"Doesn't matter!" Derek managed to choke out, his tone edged with panic. "Hurry—call Scott."
Stiles fumbled for his phone. In the rush, his foot caught on something and he tumbled, dropping the phone to the ground. As he scrambled to retrieve it, he was forced to let go of Derek. Lucy, caught off guard by the sudden loss of support, also stumbled. With a startled cry, Derek tumbled out of her grasp and fell with a splash into the nearby pool.
"Stiles!" Lucy shouted, her voice a mix of anger and desperation as she peered over the edge of the deep, dark pool, watching for any sign that Derek might regain movement and resurface. Stiles, now at the pool's edge, glanced between his phone and the water, realizing they needed Scott's help. Without hesitation, he reached for the phone again—a move that made Lucy spring into action.
Ignoring the burning sensation in her eyes, Lucy dove into the pool. The cold water slapped her face as she opened her eyes underwater, straining to see. There, at the bottom of the pool, she could just make out the motion of Derek, his body lying helplessly as if drowning. Without a second thought, she kicked harder, surging downwards, wrapping her arms around him, and pulling him close to her body. Even with the pool's buoyancy fighting against her, Lucy struggled desperately to swim upward, determined to bring him to safety.
She heard the splash of Stiles entering the water and instinctively knew he was there to help her haul Derek to the surface. With their combined strength, they pushed upward through the cold water until, finally, all three emerged gasping for breath. Stiles, however, was still distracted by the phone he'd dropped earlier, barely registering the charged silence that had settled between Derek and Lucy. In that suspended moment, Derek's eyes bore into Lucy's, his look heavy with unspoken emotion—a mixture of raw concern and something dangerously tender.
"Where'd it go?" Stiles suddenly asked, his voice cutting through the fragile calm.
Lucy's exasperation bubbled over as she clutched Derek tighter. "I don't know, I was at the bottom of the fucking pool!" she snapped, her voice ragged from exertion as she adjusted Derek's weight on her shoulders.
Stiles hesitated, his eyes flickering uncertainly. "Maybe—maybe it took off," he murmured, half in disbelief.
Before anyone could respond, a piercing shriek shattered the night, echoing off the dark walls of the pool area. Derek's jaw clenched as his eyes darkened with sudden alarm. "Maybe not," he growled, his tone low and foreboding, as if the scream confirmed his worst fears.
"I have to get my phone—" Stiles interjected, his voice tight with urgency as he fumbled for his dropped device even as he fought to keep his focus on calling Scott.
"I can't hold him up," Lucy protested, struggling to keep her own balance as she tried to support the weight of a motionless Derek in her arms.
"You have to," Stiles insisted, his voice strained as he kicked his feet in desperate attempts to keep all three of them buoyant in the chilly water.
"No, Stiles!" Lucy shouted, her tone a mix of panic and determination.
"Okay, fine—well, we'll go together," Stiles relented at last. He took a deep breath and braced himself before shouting, "Ready?"
The three of them began a clumsy, synchronized swim across the pool. Water splashed around them, their breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as they struggled to keep Derek afloat. Every stroke was a battle against the cold and the overwhelming exhaustion that had set in after their earlier ordeal.
Suddenly, Derek's voice rang out, harsh and commanding, "Stop!"
Stiles splashed to a halt mid-stroke, and for a moment, the three of them froze in the water. Their eyes were drawn, as if magnetized, to a pair of glowing eyes that had appeared on the far side of the pool. The eyes were unnervingly still, their yellowish glow piercing through the darkness as they stared back at them.
Stiles broke the silence, his tone trembling slightly as he asked, "What's it waiting for?"
But Derek didn't respond. Instead, he turned his head slowly, his gaze locked on those unblinking eyes as if trying to divine their meaning in the eerie quiet. The intensity of the moment made the water around them seem to thicken, and the silence that followed was heavy with the promise of danger—or perhaps something far more sinister.
Lucy's heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the mysterious glow. The cold water, the frantic rush to rescue Derek, and now this inexplicable presence combined to create a moment of raw terror. For an instant, nothing else existed but the silent threat emanating from the other side of the pool.
From the center of the pool, Stiles and Derek fixed their gaze on the mysterious creature as it edged toward the water's perimeter. For a long, tense moment, it lingered near the edge before, quite unexpectedly, retreating back into the dark center.
"You see that?" Stiles said, his voice low and uneasy. "I don't think it can swim."
Derek's eyes met Stiles's, sharing a silent exchange of apprehension. Their attention snapped back to the creature as it suddenly hissed, its form slicing through the water with deliberate, quick movements. It darted forward—only to hesitate and then recoil as if testing its limits—before slipping back into the depths, leaving the trio confused on what was going to come next.
The minutes stretched into hours as the creature prowled around the edges of the pool, its predatory presence an unyielding reminder that danger lurked in every ripple. Lucy and Stiles clung desperately to Derek, their energy waning with each passing moment as they fought to keep him afloat. Amid the unrelenting tension, Stiles murmured, "I don't know how much longer I can do this," his voice barely audible over the constant hum of the creature's patrol.
As the creature continued its slow, methodical circuit around the pool, Stiles stole a glance at his phone lying on the slick, wet tile. "Lucy," he said, his tone heavy with a knowing desperation, as if he understood that if he didn't call for help soon, they'd be trapped in this watery nightmare forever.
But before he could act, Derek cut in sharply, "Don't even think about it." His tone brooked no argument; he knew that releasing Stiles, even for a second, would leave Lucy utterly defenseless against the relentless force circling them.
Ignoring Derek's warning, Stiles sent Lucy a pleading look—a silent plea for someone to break the stalemate. "I can't, Lucy," he admitted, his voice strained as water filled his mouth again with every desperate gasp.
Derek's eyes darkened with a mix of frustration and resolve as he leveled a challenging stare at Stiles. "When the paralysis wears off, who's going to be able to fight that thing? You or me?" His words were low, almost menacing in their intensity, as if daring Stiles to choose between self-preservation and the survival of their fragile trio.
"It's been two hours," Stiles pleaded, his voice cracking under the weight of exhaustion. Every moment felt like an eternity as the creature's presence pressed in on them, and his strength began to falter, his limbs trembling with fatigue.
"Yes," Derek replied, his tone firm yet laced with a note of urgency, "but you need me to survive. Which is why you're not letting me go."
Stiles met Derek's steady, unwavering gaze, his eyes flickering with conflict and resignation. After what felt like a lifetime suspended in that chaotic pool, he knew he had to release his hold, dropping Derek and diving under the water to swim towards the edge where his phone was.
Almost immediately after Stiles released his grip on Derek, Lucy's hold faltered. Both she and Derek were dragged under the water, their struggle intensifying until she was forced to let go completely. As Derek sank, his labored breathing grew more desperate; water began to fill his lungs, and his tenuous grasp on consciousness slipped away.
Lucy kicked frantically, spitting out water as she fought to catch her breath. She knew she had to dive back down, but the thought alone made her chest tighten—she was barely managing to regain control of her own breathing. Glancing briefly at Stiles, she saw him struggling to swim across the pool on his own, and a surge of dread tightened her stomach further. With the creature lurking nearby, she realized that both Stiles and Derek were in imminent danger.
Yet, amid the chaos, Stiles managed to retrieve his phone and began typing furiously with his wet hands. Drawing in one final desperate breath, Lucy plunged back into the depths. Every stroke sent a burning ache through her lungs and muscles as she descended to the pool's bottom, her eyes stinging with salt and determination as she focused on Derek's prone form, sprawled helplessly on the pool floor.
Summoning every ounce of strength she had left, Lucy secured her hands under Derek's arms and dragged his body closer to her. Their chests pressed together so tightly that not even the water could slip between them, and she kicked her legs with all her might, battling against the relentless pull of the depths. In that final, desperate moment, a spark ignited within her—her remaining power and breath pooling into one final surge as she fought to bring Derek to the surface.
Stiles returned just in time, relieving Lucy of the strain of holding Derek's weight by herself. "Did Scott respond?" She asked, struggling to catch her breath. Stiles shook his head no, looking down at the bottom of the pool where his phone was sinking. Lucy looked over at Derek, still unconscious in Stiles' arms. Her heart sank, worried that she had taken too long as she gently moved his head to see if he would wake up. But he remained unresponsive.
"I need to give him CPR!" she exclaimed, now trying to lift him even higher out of the water with Stiles' help.
"In water?" Stiles questioned, also assisting in keeping Derek's chest above the water.
"Yes!" Lucy shouted, completely frustrated with the unexpected predicament they were facing.
"Listen to me—wrap your arms around his back and start compressions, one, two, three… all the way to thirty. You understand?" Lucy commanded, her tone firm and focused. Stiles simply nodded, his expression set as he followed her precise instructions.
Lucy moved to assist, slipping her leg around Derek's torso to help keep his chest elevated above the water. With determined urgency, Stiles began delivering steady chest compressions as Lucy continued to count aloud. When they reached thirty, Lucy drew in a deep breath and sealed her lips against Derek's, delivering two strong rescue breaths.
They repeated the cycle—compressions followed by breaths—two more times until Derek coughed, water splashing from his mouth in small, desperate bursts. Lucy allowed herself a brief, satisfied smile and nodded encouragingly for Stiles to continue the compressions.
Then, summoning all her remaining strength, Lucy moved to administer one final breath. As she pressed her lips against Derek's, he suddenly moved his own mouth, pressing them hard back against Lucy's, and in that critical moment, a desperate rescue effort transformed into an unexpected, tender kiss.
Lucy pulled away from the kiss, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief as she stared down at Derek. For a moment, she shook her head as if trying to dislodge the unexpected intimacy from her thoughts. Meanwhile, Stiles shifted uncomfortably between them, his confusion evident—he knew full well that later, when he recounted everything to Scott, the image of Derek and Lucy locked in that kiss would be the one detail he couldn't keep to himself.
"Come on," Lucy urged, her voice brittle as she attempted to dispel the charged silence. "Let's grab the ladder and get out of here." The shared kiss, while momentarily reviving a spark of strength in her, left her still reeling—her breaths shallow, her heart pounding like a frantic drumbeat.
Stiles, silent but determined, nodded in agreement. The trio moved together, carefully hoisting Derek toward the pool's edge, where safety—and at least a temporary refuge from their attacker—seemed possible. Just as they reached the bank, Scott appeared in full werewolf form, his fierce presence cutting through the chaos. Without hesitation, he charged in to assist, letting out a guttural howl that seemed to challenge the creature lurking in the shadows.
Exhaustion overtook Stiles, and he collapsed onto the ground, finally released from the strain of holding Derek afloat. But Lucy, her eyes locked on Derek's face, lingered over him. In that moment, as she gazed deep into his eyes, he returned the intense look—an unspoken acknowledgment of the bond they had just shared. There, amidst the frantic rescue and the lingering threat of the unknown, nothing could deny the powerful connection that had sparked between them.