Chapter 21: The Hunt Begins
The fire inspector's attack makes national news.
Not because of the victim—nobody outside Beacon Hills knows who Martin Fletcher is. But because the injuries are so severe, so methodical, that the media can't ignore it.
"Mauled in his own home," the anchor says. "Authorities believe it may be connected to the recent string of animal attacks—"
I turn off the TV.
We're in Stiles' room. Scott is pacing. Derek is on video call, camera angled so we can only see his scowl. Stiles is building a conspiracy board with red string and printouts.
"Fire inspector," Stiles says, adding Fletcher's photo to the board. "Signed off on the Hale fire as accidental. Now he's in the ICU with injuries that look suspiciously werewolf-shaped."
"Peter's accelerating," Derek says through the laptop speakers.
"Who else is on his list?" Scott asks.
Stiles taps his board. "Insurance adjuster who denied the Hales' claim. Construction crew that demolished parts of the house. And—" He points to Kate's photo at the top. "—Kate Argent. The woman who actually burned the house down."
My Haki picks up Scott's panic. It's sharp and immediate—Allison's aunt is a marked target. Which means Allison is in the crossfire.
"We have to warn her," Scott says.
"We can't," Derek says. "Kate knows we're onto her. She'll use it against us."
"So we just let Peter kill her?"
"I didn't say that."
"Then what—"
"We use her as bait."
Silence. Everyone stares at the screen.
"Absolutely not," Scott says.
"Why? She murdered my family."
"And that makes us murderers too if we let Peter kill her."
"Not if we're trying to save her and fail."
The argument spirals. I tune it out, focusing on my Haki. Extending it through the house, into the street beyond. Something feels wrong. Off.
Like we're being watched.
"Guys," I say.
They keep arguing.
"GUYS."
Everyone stops.
"Someone's watching us. I can feel it."
Stiles rushes to the window. Peers through the blinds. "I don't see anyone."
"They're farther out. Maybe a hundred yards."
Derek's eyes narrow on screen. "Kate."
"Or Peter."
"Either way, we need to move. Now."
The school parking lot is tense.
Allison finds Scott during lunch. Walks right up to him with her jaw set and her eyes red from crying.
"We need to talk."
"Allison—"
"Now."
Scott glances at me and Stiles. We nod. Follow at a distance as Allison leads Scott to the edge of the parking lot.
She turns on him. "Tell me the truth. Are you a werewolf?"
Scott goes pale. "How did you—"
"My family. They hunt werewolves. And they think you're one of them."
"I am."
The admission hangs in the air. Allison takes a step back.
"I didn't choose it," Scott says quickly. "I got bitten. I didn't want this. But I'm not dangerous, Allison. I would never hurt you."
"My aunt says werewolves are monsters."
"Some are. But not all of us."
I step forward. "Your aunt burned Derek's family alive. Children. Innocents. She didn't distinguish between monsters and people. She just killed them all."
Allison looks at me. "How do you know that?"
"Because I can sense it. And because the evidence is there if you look."
"My family—"
"Your family has a code," I say. "We hunt those who hunt us. But Kate doesn't follow it. She kills for sport."
Allison's face crumbles. "I don't know what to believe."
Scott takes her hand. "Believe me. I'm still Scott. Still the guy who fumbles lacrosse catches and makes terrible jokes. I'm just... also a werewolf."
She pulls her hand away. "I need time. To think."
She walks away. Scott watches her go, his Haki signature fracturing with grief.
"She'll come around," Stiles says.
"Will she?"
I don't answer. Because I don't know.
The warehouse smells like rust and motor oil.
Derek got an anonymous tip—Peter's location, coordinates and everything. It's obviously a trap. But we're out of options.
The four of us move through the abandoned building. Derek in front, Scott and I flanking, Stiles trailing behind with a baseball bat he swears will be useful.
My Haki is screaming.
"It's a trap," I say.
"We know," Derek replies.
"Then why are we—"
Lights flood the warehouse. Blinding. My Haki picks up multiple hostiles converging from all sides.
Hunters.
Kate Argent steps out from behind a shipping container, crossbow leveled. Chris Argent is beside her. Three other hunters fan out, weapons raised.
"Derek Hale," Kate says. "You've been busy."
Derek's eyes flash blue. "Kate."
"Did you really think I wouldn't recognize a trap when you walked into mine?" She looks at Scott. "And you brought friends. How sweet."
Scott shifts protectively in front of Stiles. His eyes are gold.
Kate's gaze lands on me. "The void-touched boy. Peter told me about you. Said you have interesting abilities."
My Nen flares instinctively. Shimmer spreading around my hands.
The first crossbow bolt fires.
I project a barrier—crude, weak, but there. The bolt hits and bounces off. But the impact drains me. My vision swims.
"Interesting indeed," Kate says.
Then chaos erupts.
Derek shifts to full werewolf, attacking the closest hunter. Scott charges another, instinct overriding his control. Stiles ducks behind a crate, clutching his bat like a lifeline.
I'm projecting barriers as fast as I can. Each bolt that hits drains me more. My Nen is finite, and Kate knows it.
"Let's test those limits," she says.
She fires three bolts in rapid succession.
I project. The first barrier holds. The second cracks. The third shatters.
The bolt catches my ribs.
Pain explodes—white-hot and blinding. I stumble, clutching my side. Blood seeps through my fingers.
But underneath the pain—my regeneration kicks in. The wound starts closing immediately.
Kate sees it. Her expression shifts from tactical assessment to fascination.
"You heal. Like them, but different." She reloads. "Let's see how much damage you can take."
Chris appears at her side. "Kate. He's a kid."
"He's aiding werewolves."
"He's SIXTEEN."
"And he's in my way."
She aims at my head.
My Haki screams. I dive left. The bolt whistles past my ear.
"Everyone OUT!" Derek roars. "Split up! Move!"
We scatter.
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