AN: Here's the next chapter. Let me know what you thought!
And without giving anything away...
TW: the next few chapters are going to get heavy. Bad things are going to happen. Prepare yourselves. Don't hate me.
The staircase up to the loft was quiet. Jamie stood in front of the heavy metal door, staring at the worn surface as if it might open on its own and make the decision for her.
She shouldn't be here.
She knew that.
But she couldn't make her feet move away.
Her hands disappeared into the sleeves of her oversized jumper, fingers picking nervously at the frayed cuffs. It had been ages since she last saw Derek, and the idea of facing him now, after everything, made her stomach twist.
Just go home.
Before she could talk herself into leaving, the door slid open. The sudden movement made her breath catch, and then there he was—Derek, standing in the dimly lit entrance, staring at her with that unreadable expression on his.
His eyes flicked over her, assessing, guarded.
"What are you doing here?" His voice was flat, even.
Jamie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her pulse felt too loud in her ears. "Just came to see Isaac," she lied, swallowing hard. "Is he here?"
Derek didn't say anything right away. He just watched her, his gaze steady in a way that made her skin prickle. He knew. He always knew.
"No," he said finally. "And you shouldn't be here. You wanna see Isaac, do it on your own turf."
His words were sharp, deliberate, but he didn't slam the door in her face. Instead, he turned away, walking deeper into the loft.
Jamie hesitated for only a second before stepping inside.
"Nice place," she murmured, letting her eyes drift over the space—high ceilings, exposed brick, dim lighting. It was all very Derek.
She heard him exhale, a slow, tired sound.
"Any luck finding Erica and Boyd?"
She saw the way his shoulders tensed at the question. Even though he wasn't facing her, she could feel the shift in the air.
"Not yet," he said.
Silence settled between them, thick and unmoving. Derek still wouldn't look at her.
Jamie clenched her jaw, irritation flickering through her nervous energy. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked, the sharpness in her voice surprising even herself. "Did I do something to piss you off?"
Derek didn't respond at first. His back was still to her, his shoulders squared, his hands braced on the table like he was holding himself back. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, pressing down on Jamie's chest.
She clenched her jaw, pulling her sleeves further over her hands, gripping the fabric like it would keep her steady. She didn't know what she was expecting when she showed up here, but this? The cold dismissal, the refusal to even look at her—it stung more than she wanted to admit.
"Derek," she pressed, her voice firm, but her heart was hammering. "If I did something, just—just tell me."
Derek exhaled, finally turning to face her. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something tight, controlled. "You didn't do anything."
Jamie huffed, rolling her eyes. "Really? 'Cause you're acting like I did."
Derek looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head. "You shouldn't be here."
"Yeah, you said that already," she bit back. "And I get it, you don't want me around. But could you at least tell me why?"
His jaw tightened, his eyes dark. He was looking at her like he was holding something back, like there were a hundred things he wanted to say but wouldn't.
Jamie crossed her arms. "You just gonna keep pushing me away? Pretending like—like none of it ever happened?"
Derek's gaze flickered, just for a second. And that's all it took.
Jamie's stomach twisted.
"That's it, isn't it?" she said, softer now. "You regret it."
Derek didn't deny it.
Jamie's chest tightened, something sinking in her stomach.
She swallowed, forcing out a bitter laugh. "Right. Okay." She nodded, looking away, blinking rapidly. "I mean—of course you do. That makes sense."
She took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself. She didn't even know why she was still there, why she was still talking. He clearly didn't want her there.
Derek watched her, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he said, "Jamie."
Her name in his voice made her breath catch. But when she looked at him, his face was still closed off.
"Go home," he said.
Jamie stared at him, feeling something crack inside her.
She turned and walked out.
The loft was dark except for the dim, flickering light from the single lamp Derek had left on. The city hummed faintly outside, but inside, it was silent. Too silent.
Derek stood near the window, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw locked. He didn't turn when Peter stepped closer behind him.
"You're tense," Peter commented, his tone casual. Too casual. "More tense than usual, and considering your usual is about one wrong look away from murder, that's saying something."
Derek exhaled sharply through his nose, gripping his forearm like it might anchor him. "If you have a point, get to it."
Peter smirked, stepping further into the room. "Oh, I always have a point." He strolled past Derek, looking around like he was inspecting the place, even though he'd been there plenty of times before. "But first, let's state the facts, shall we? Boyd and Erica? Still missing. The Alpha Pack? Closing in. Scott? Not exactly reliable when it comes to making the tough calls. And you, dear nephew?" He tilted his head, eyes sharp as they landed on Derek. "You're running out of time."
Derek clenched his jaw. "I know that."
Peter hummed, feigning sympathy. "Then you also know that you need to start thinking strategically. You're bleeding numbers, Derek. And what's worse? You're bleeding loyalty." He leaned against the edge of the couch, arms crossed, watching Derek's reaction. "Boyd and Erica left you. Isaac is one bad day away from following. So tell me…" He tilted his head. "What exactly do you have left?"
Derek turned then, his eyes burning red for half a second before he shoved it back down. "I have enough."
Peter raised a brow. "Do you?"
Derek didn't answer.
Peter exhaled dramatically, shaking his head. "Come on, Derek. We both know the Alpha Pack isn't going to be polite about this. They're not going to knock on the door and ask nicely for a sparring match. When they come, they're going to tear through you—through all of you—like you're nothing." He took a step closer. "Unless, of course, you start making the choices that no one else is willing to make."
Derek glared at him. "I am making choices."
Peter's smile was sharp, knowing. "Not the right ones."
Derek's breathing deepened, his fists clenched. "Say what you mean, Peter."
Peter's grin widened slightly, but there was something urgent behind his eyes now. "You know what I mean." He took another step, lowering his voice just slightly. "Turn her."
Derek's stomach clenched. His hands flexed.
Peter kept going. "You need numbers, Derek. You need someone you can actually trust. Jamie is already halfway in, whether you like it or not. And unlike Scott, she isn't blinded by some self-righteous moral code. She wants to be strong." He paused before adding in a softer, more coaxing tone, "And we both know she could be."
Derek shook his head once, firm. "No."
Peter sighed, feigning disappointment. "Derek."
"I said no." His voice was sharper now, more resolute.
Peter studied him for a long moment before exhaling, like this whole conversation was exhausting for him. "Why are you fighting this?"
Derek didn't answer.
Peter stepped closer, lowering his voice like he was letting Derek in on a secret. "She wants more, Derek. You've seen it. She feels it, whether she realizes it or not. She knows there's something different about her. Something waiting." He leaned in slightly. "She's waiting."
Derek's jaw locked. "No. She's not."
Peter huffed a quiet laugh. "Ah. And you know this for a fact, do you? Because from what I saw, she didn't exactly hesitate to throw herself headfirst into the middle of this mess." His eyes darkened, his voice dipping lower, more insistent. "She's already involved. She's already a target. And you—" he pointed at Derek, eyes flashing, "—are already running out of options."
Derek's breathing was heavy now. His heart pounded. He wanted to argue, to push Peter back, to tell him to shut the hell up—but he couldn't.
Because the worst part?
Peter wasn't entirely wrong.
Peter tilted his head, watching the internal battle play out in Derek's tense shoulders, the tight set of his jaw. Then, he leaned back slightly, his tone turning almost amused again, like he'd already won. "But fine. Don't listen to me. Keep pretending you have all the time in the world." He started toward the door but paused just before stepping through, glancing back. "Just remember, Derek—when the Alpha Pack comes knocking, when Jamie is in their crosshairs?" His lips quirked slightly. "She won't stand a chance."
And with that, Peter left.
Derek stayed where he was, fists clenched at his sides, his pulse hammering in his ears.
He hated that Peter was trying to manipulate him.
But he hated even more that part of him—the part that was running out of time, that was afraid of what was coming—couldn't completely ignore what he said.
Jamie sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, the dim glow of the screen lighting up her face in the darkness of her room. The fan hummed softly above her, the only sound filling the space. She wasn't tired, but she wasn't awake, either—just caught in the strange, weightless feeling of summer nights.
It had been a few days since Derek had told her to stay away. Again. She'd chewed through all the gum Stiles had given her already, so caught up in her anxiety. And even then, nothing could really fill the void his rejection had left.
Then her phone vibrated in her hand.
She glanced down.
It was a message from Derek Hale.
Come to the loft. I need you.
Her stomach flipped so hard it made her breath catch.
Jamie stared at the message, her fingers tightening around her phone. She read it again. And again. I need you.
Derek never said things like that.
Her heartbeat picked up, her skin buzzing with an energy she didn't know what to do with. He wanted her there. Needed her there. It didn't matter for what—it didn't even matter if it was something insignificant, something stupid. The fact was, Derek had reached out to her.
And it was pathetic, really, how much she wanted that.
She swung her legs off the bed, already reaching for her shoes, a rush of adrenaline making her movements quick, jittery. She shouldn't feel like this. Shouldn't feel this addicted to him, like his attention was something she craved—something she needed just as much as the nicotine she was still struggling to quit.
But she did.
Jamie swallowed hard, shoving her arms into her father's denim jacket. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to slow her breathing, but her hands were shaking. She knew she shouldn't be this eager. Knew she shouldn't drop everything just because Derek had asked.
But she was already halfway to the door before she could even think about stopping herself.
She stepped out into the warm summer air, the quiet of the night wrapping around her. She took a deep breath, barely noticing the figure standing just outside her house—until he shifted.
She startled, stopping in her tracks.
"Jesus, Isaac," she muttered, pressing a hand to her chest. "What the hell are you doing out here?"
Isaac stood there, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. His expression was hesitant, like he'd been standing outside for a while, trying to decide whether or not to knock.
"I, uh—" He shifted on his feet. "I was gonna see if you wanted to hang out. Maybe catch that movie we never got around to seeing."
Jamie blinked, caught off guard.
Even after things had settled between them, Isaac had never asked to hang out, not like this. They had talked, sure, but it never anything more. Not since he had become a werewolf.
She hesitated for half a second, but the weight of her phone in her hand pulled her back to reality. "I can't," she said, brushing past him as she stepped off the porch. "I'm going to the loft."
Isaac turned, watching her go. "To see Derek?"
"Yeah."
She barely made it past him before she felt a hand wrap around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.
Jamie looked down at where he held her, his grip firm but not tight. When she met his eyes, there was something unreadable there—something serious.
"Don't go," he said quietly.
She frowned. "What?"
Isaac's jaw clenched, like he was debating what to say. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "Just—don't go."
Her pulse picked up, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. "Why not?"
Isaac didn't answer. He just held her there, his fingers still wrapped around her wrist.
Jamie swallowed, waiting. "Isaac—"
"Please." His voice was quieter this time. More desperate.
Jamie's throat felt tight.
Isaac never asked anything of her. Never pleaded. She considered what his problem might be. Jealously maybe? But she didn't think that was Isaac's style.
Her heart twisted, and for a second—just a second—she considered staying. Considered forgetting about Derek, about whatever had made him text her in the first place.
But then her phone vibrated again in her hand.
She pulled her wrist free from Isaac's grip, shaking her head. "I have to go."
Isaac exhaled sharply, looking like he wanted to say something else. But he didn't.
He just stood there, watching as Jamie walked away.
Jamie hesitated at the door to Derek's loft, fingers tips pressing into her palms so hard it hurt. She'd only seen him that one time in weeks—when he told her to stay away again. When he'd ripped her out of his world like she had been nothing to him.
And yet, here she was.
She replayed his text in her mind. Come to the loft. I need you.
She should've ignored it. Should've protected herself. But the pull was still there, as strong as ever.
She took a breath and pushed the heavy door open.
The loft was dim, golden light pooling in the open space, shadows stretching across the floor. It smelled like metal and old wood, something unmistakably him. Derek stood near the far window, back to her, shoulders tight, his hands braced against the edge of a workbench.
Jamie swallowed hard. "You texted."
He turned slowly, his face unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something dark, restrained. Like he regretted reaching out.
"Yeah," he said, voice rough.
That was it. No explanation. No apology.
Jamie shifted, crossing her arms, heart hammering against her ribs. "Are you going to tell me why?"
Derek dragged a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. "I—" He stopped, shaking his head. "I just needed you to come."
The words settled deep in her chest, hot and aching. She should walk away. She should demand more than this. But instead, she moved toward him.
"Derek," she said softly, searching his face. "What's wrong?"
His jaw tensed. "Nothing."
Jamie stepped closer. "Liar."
He looked away, but she wasn't letting him shut down. Not again. She reached out, her fingers brushing his jaw, and he stiffened under her touch.
"Just tell me," she whispered.
Derek's throat bobbed as he exhaled. "I can't."
The words barely left his lips before Jamie couldn't take it any longer.
He'd been the one to reach out. He'd been to the one who needed her this time.
It was only seconds before she was closing the distance between them, standing so close she could feel the warmth of his body. Her hand slid higher, fingers threading into his hair, and she pulled him down, pressing her lips to his.
Derek stilled.
For a moment, she thought he would pull away, push her back like he had before. That he would break her all over again.
But then his hands found her waist, and he snapped.
A low growl rumbled in his throat as he crushed her against him, his mouth hot and desperate against hers. Jamie gasped, but he swallowed the sound, his hands gripping her like he was afraid she'd disappear.
The restraint he had been holding onto shattered.
Jamie barely had time to think before Derek spun her, backing her against the cold metal of the workbench. Her breath hitched as he lifted her onto it, his body pressing between her legs, heat radiating between them.
His hands roamed—spreading over her thighs, gripping her hips, sliding under her shirt. Every touch, every kiss was rough and needy, like he was fighting something inside himself.
"Derek," she breathed, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer.
He dragged his lips from her mouth, kissing along her jaw, down the column of her throat. Jamie tilted her head back, a soft gasp escaping her lips as his teeth scraped against her neck.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured against her skin, voice thick with something dangerous, something barely restrained.
Jamie's fingers dug into his shoulders. She should say it. She should push him away.
But she didn't.
Instead, she tugged his mouth back to hers, kissing him like she wanted to burn.
Derek lifted her, carrying her across the loft, their lips never breaking. Jamie barely registered the moment her back hit the mattress, Derek's weight settling over her, pressing her down.
This was reckless. This was a mistake.
But she couldn't stop.
And neither could he.
Derek hovered over her, his breath ragged, his body rigid as if he was fighting himself. His fingers dug into the mattress beside her head, muscles coiled tight.
Jamie reached up, brushing her fingers along his jaw, grounding him. "Derek…" she whispered, not even sure what she was asking for.
His eyes, dark with something raw and unreadable, flickered over her face, searching. A silent war waged inside him, but whatever restraint was left was hanging by a thread.
And that thread had broken.
His mouth crashed onto hers again, deeper this time, rougher, like he was done holding back. His hands roamed, mapping the curves of her body, sliding beneath her shirt to trace the heat of her skin. Every touch was consuming, burning, leaving her breathless.
Jamie arched beneath him, pressing closer, her body responding to him in ways she couldn't control. She didn't want to control it.
Derek's lips moved down her neck, his breath hot against her skin. He lingered at her pulse, his teeth grazing just enough to make her shudder. His grip tightened on her hip as if he was grounding himself, or maybe warning himself not to lose control completely.
But she didn't want his control. Not tonight.
She pushed up, flipping them suddenly, straddling him, her hands pressing against his chest. Derek's breath caught, his fingers wrapping around her waist as he stared up at her, eyes wild, chest rising and falling fast.
Jamie swallowed hard, running her fingers down his chest, feeling the tension in him, the way he was barely keeping himself together.
"I'm still here," she murmured. "I want this."
Derek's eyes darkened. He sat up, hands sliding to her back, pulling her flush against him. Their mouths met again, slower this time, deeper. It wasn't just hunger—it was something deeper, something neither of them wanted to name.
They lost themselves in it. And for the first time in weeks, there was no distance between them. No fear. No doubt.
Only this.
Only them.
When Jamie woke, the loft was silent. Too silent.
Her body was warm, tangled in the sheets, the scent of him still lingering around her. For a moment, she let herself stay there, eyes closed, pretending nothing else existed outside this bed.
But then the silence pressed in. Heavy. Wrong.
She blinked, turning over, reaching out—only to find empty space.
A cold feeling crept down her spine as she sat up, gripping the sheets to her chest. The loft was dark, shadows stretching across the walls, swallowing the space whole. The air felt too cold against her bare skin.
Her pulse quickened. "Derek?"
No answer.
Jamie swallowed, sliding out of bed, grabbing the nearest shirt—his shirt—and pulling it over her head as she stepped carefully into the open space of the loft.
The quiet was suffocating.
Then, movement.
A shadow shifted near the staircase.
She exhaled in relief. "Derek, you scared me—"
The figure stepped into the light.
Not Derek.
Peter.
Jamie's stomach dropped. Her muscles locked in place, heart thumping wildly.
She swallowed, forcing her voice steady. "What are you doing here?"
Peter smiled, slow and lazy, his hands in the pockets of his coat. He took a few unhurried steps closer, his shoes clicking against the floor. "Oh, don't mind me," he said smoothly. "I just figured I'd check in. After all, you were busy." His eyes flickered toward the bed, the amusement in his voice unmistakable.
Jamie's breath hitched. She glanced toward the shadows, her pulse quickening. "Where's Derek?"
Peter's smirk widened. "He's here."
A shape moved in the darkness.
Jamie turned her head—Derek stepped into view.
And the moment she saw his face, she knew something was very wrong.
He wasn't moving to help her. He wasn't stopping this. He just stood there. Silent. Tense.
Guilty.
Jamie's chest clenched. "Derek?"
He wouldn't meet her eyes.
Peter tsked. "Come on, Jamie. You didn't really think this was all about love, did you?"
Panic rose in her throat like bile. "What are you talking about?"
Peter's smirk turned sharper, his voice like silk. "This has been the plan all along, princess. Getting you close enough. Making you his. And now…" He let out a hum of satisfaction. "Now, it's time."
Jamie's stomach twisted, her eyes shifting to the alpha. "What is he talking about?" She didn't get a response. "Derek?" she breathed. She shivered, wrapping her arms around her barely covered body.
Then Peter moved.
Too fast.
She gasped as he lunged, his grip like iron as he wrenched her forward. Jamie twisted, fighting against him, but his strength was effortless.
"Let me go!" she screamed, thrashing against him.
Peter only chuckled. "Oh, Jamie. You really think you get a say in this?"
Adrenaline surged through her. She refused to let this happen.
With a burst of strength, she yanked her arm back, breaking free of his grip. She stumbled backward, pulse hammering. She made it two steps before Peter lunged again, grabbing her wrist and jerking her back with so much force that pain flared up her arm.
She yelped, twisting in his grasp, but Peter's fingers dug harder, bruising her skin.
Jamie whimpered. "Derek—"
Derek flinched. His hands curled at his sides, his breathing rough, unsteady.
Peter leaned in, his breath warm against Jamie's ear. "You should be thanking me. Derek's been dragging his feet long enough. If it weren't for me, who knows how long he'd have let you keep pretending this was about feelings."
Jamie sucked in a sharp breath. "You're wrong," she hissed.
Peter laughed, low and amused. "Am I? Look at him."
Jamie did.
Derek's jaw was tight, his shoulders stiff. His entire body was rigid, locked in place like he was forcing himself not to move.
But there was something else in his eyes.
Guilt.
Anguish.
Doubt.
Peter sighed dramatically. "You think he doesn't want this? That he hasn't needed you to be more than this fragile, breakable thing? You think he wasn't waiting for you to finally give him a reason?"
Jamie shook her head violently. "No. No, Derek, please—"
Derek inhaled sharply, his gaze flickering—just for a second—before he turned his head away.
Jamie's stomach lurched.
Peter hummed in satisfaction, gripping her chin, tilting her head to the side, exposing her neck.
Jamie struggled, kicking at him, twisting, desperate to get free. "Derek, please—"
Derek took a step forward. His hands trembled.
Peter's voice dropped, coaxing. "She's already yours, Derek. You know she is."
Derek's breathing was uneven. His fists clenched.
Peter smiled, voice smooth. "You know what I see? I see a man who is tired of losing. A man who's been holding back because of some ridiculous idea that she'd leave him if he showed her who he really is."
Derek's jaw tightened.
Peter leaned in. "You need power, Derek. You need her."
Jamie's chest heaved.
She met Derek's eyes—pleading, desperate, tears running down her face. "I don't want this," she choked out. "Derek, please. Please."
Derek closed his eyes.
Because he knew.
He knew she didn't want this. He knew this would break her, ruin her.
But he also knew Peter was right.
He needed power. He needed control. He needed to stop feeling helpless.
And Jamie—Jamie had always been the only thing that ever made him stronger.
His breathing was ragged now. His hands shook as he reached out.
Peter's grip tightened.
Jamie let out a strangled sob.
Derek opened his mouth, his fangs descending as his eyes burned red.
And Jamie screamed.