Fracturing

—Scott POV—

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, its screen lighting up the dark room. I grabbed it before it could ring again.

"Hey man, what's up?" I said, my voice still hoarse with sleep.

No answer.

"Stiles?" I sat up, swinging my legs over the bed. "Stiles, you there?"

Finally, his voice crackled through. "Scott? Hey, I'm here..."

Something in his voice made my chest tighten. He sounded off — scared, dazed, like he didn't know where he was.

"Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

"Scott... I don't know where I am," he said, breath coming faster. "I don't know how I got here. I think I was sleepwalking..."

I stood up, already pulling on a hoodie. "Okay, um, can you see anything? Just tell me what you see."

"It's dark," he said. "It's hard to see. I think there's something wrong with my—"

The call cut out.

The voicemail picked up with a distorted, "Hey—"

"Stiles?" I said again, heart pounding.

"This is Stiles and you missed me. Leave a message."

"Come on..." I muttered under my breath, pressing redial with shaking fingers.

The voicemail clicked again. "Hey, this is St—"

"God, come on, come on..." I was pacing now, phone glued to my ear. "Stiles?"

Finally — his voice again.

"Scott, I don't think I can get out of here," he said, quiet and panicked. "I can't move."

"Where are you?"

"I don't know. It's too dark. I can't see much, and something's wrong with my leg. It's stuck on something, and it's... I think it's bleeding."

"How bad?" My voice cracked. "Stiles, how bad is it?"

Silence.

"Stiles, are you there? Can you hear me?"

He groaned. "Ah... there's some kind of smell down here. Something smells terrible. It's brutal. My eyes are watering."

"Okay, listen," I said, forcing my voice to stay calm. "I'm calling your dad—"

"No, no, no, no, don't—"

"But your dad—"

"Don't. Just please, don't call him. He already worries about me too much. Scott, please—"

I paused, teeth clenched. "But what if I can't find you? Stiles, I can't make a promise like that—"

"Please... just please..." he whispered, and it broke something in me.

"Come find me. You can do it. He doesn't have to know. Scott, you can find me."

I closed my eyes. I didn't know if I could. But for him... I had to.

"I don't know if I can do this..." I whispered.

"I gotta call you back," he said, rushed. "I have to turn the phone off."

"What? No, hey, wait—"

"I'm gonna call you back—"

"Hold on, Stiles, wait!" I said, panic swelling. "Hold on, man—"

The line went dead.

I barely remembered getting to Isaac's room. I threw his door open without knocking.

"Isaac! Isaac, get up! I need your help!"

He groaned and sat up, squinting at me. "What? What's wrong?"

"It's Stiles. Get dressed."

He started pulling on a shirt, still groggy. "What's wrong with Stiles?"

I hesitated. "...I don't know."

We were already in the car when my phone buzzed again.

"Hey, Stiles," I answered.

"Did you call him?" His voice was sharp. "Did you call my dad?"

"No," I said quickly. "Just Isaac. We're coming to find you. Can you figure out where you are? Try to find something and tell us where to look."

"It's a basement," he said after a moment. "I think—I think I'm in some kind of basement."

"In a house?" I asked, clinging to any detail.

"No, it looks bigger. Like, industrial. I think there's a furnace. But it's cold. It's freezing down here."

My fingers clenched the steering wheel. We needed more. Anything.

"I gotta turn the—I gotta turn the phone off, Scott. It's going to die."

"No, wait, wait, wait!" I begged. "What else is there? What do you see?"

"The phone's dying. I can't talk. I have to go. Please..."

"Stiles..." My voice dropped, something dark settling over me. "Why are you whispering?"

There was a pause. Then his voice, barely above a breath.

"Because I think there's someone in here with me..."

We slowed to a stop in front of the house, and I was throwing myself out of the car immediately. Lydia was staring at the front door.

"How did you know? Did he call you, too?" I asked.

"I heard it." She murmured. I didn't like the way Lydia said that. Like it meant something. Like something was already wrong.

We walked in together, the four of us moving quickly through the quiet house. My gut was already twisting into knots.

We went straight to Stiles' room.

And stopped.

Cassie was standing in the middle of the room. Her back to us.

Facing the wall covered in red strings and pinned photos and notes — the mystery board Stiles had been working on for weeks.

Her arms hung limp at her sides, but her shoulders were tense. She wasn't moving.

"Cassie?" I said, stepping in first. "Cass?"

She didn't answer.

When I moved around to face her, my breath caught.

Her eyes were open.

Wide. And silver.

Not quite like their normal glowing silver.

Cold. Reflective. Wrong. And completely unseeing.

"Cassie?" I said again, quieter this time.

Still nothing. Lydia pushed past me, reaching out gently. "Andie, hey. Can you hear me?"

She didn't even blink.

"What the hell..." Isaac whispered behind me.

"She's not asleep," I said, heart pounding. "But she's not awake either."

"She's somewhere else," Lydia whispered. Her voice cracked a little. "She's tied to him. Somehow."

The room felt colder now.

It wasn't just Cassie who was gone. They both were.

"Hold on, is he still out there then?" Lydia asked, her voice snapping me back.

"You don't know where he is?" Aiden added.

I forced myself to focus. "He said he was in an industrial basement somewhere."

Isaac nodded. "We came here to get a better scent."

"What else did he say?" Lydia asked, stepping back from Cassie with tears in her eyes.

I tried to remember, piecing it together through my panic. "Something's wrong with his leg, it's bleeding."

"And he's freezing," Isaac added.

"Tonight's the coldest night of the year," Aiden said, glancing out the window. "It's going to drop into the twenties."

Lydia turned toward me, her eyes sharp. "What did his dad say?"

I hesitated. "...We kind of... we didn't tell him yet."

"What?" she snapped. "Stiles is bleeding and freezing and you didn't call his dad?"

"He made me promise not to!" I said, voice rising. "He begged me, Lydia."

I hated the way she looked at me then, like I was failing both of them. Stiles and Cassie.

I took a shaky breath. "We can find him by scent. If he was sleepwalking, he couldn't have gotten far, right?"

Aiden gave me a look. "You didn't notice his Jeep is gone, did you?"

Lydia crossed her arms. "You promised you wouldn't call his dad. I didn't."

"Wait, Lydia!" I said quickly. "Hold on, I can get more help. I can call Derek, Allison-"

"Everyone except for the cops," she snapped. "Great idea!"

Aiden looked between all of us. "You guys remember she only gets these feelings when someone's about to die, right?"

My stomach dropped. I looked back at Cassie. Her silver eyes still locked on the board.

Not blinking.

Not moving.

"...You don't have to call his dad," I said, already walking toward the door. "It's five minutes to the station."

Lydia didn't move.

"We'll catch up," she said softly.

"What? Why?" I turned.

She glanced back at Cassie.

"I don't want to leave Andie."

Isaac was already behind the wheel by the time I got there, his jaw tight, eyes fixed straight ahead. He didn't say a word as we pulled away from the house, but I could tell he was as shaken as I was. Not just about Stiles.

About Cassie.

The image of her silver eyes locked on that board, unmoving, unblinking, kept replaying in my head like a warning. She wasn't just unconscious. She was somewhere else.

And if she was frozen in place like that... what did that mean for Stiles?

We didn't stop at any lights. We didn't speak. When we reached the station, I was out the door before Isaac cut the engine.

We ran straight inside.

We explained everything to the Sheriff in hurried tones. He paused, a range of emotions flickering over his face. Then he stood up straight, the weight of the badge clear in his voice now. "If his Jeep is gone, that's where we start. Parrish, let's get an APB out on a blue 1980 CJ-5 Jeep."

"Yes, sir," Parrish said, grabbing the nearest radio.

"Cordova, I want a list of any kind of industrial basement or sub-level of any building that he could've gotten into while sleepwalking. It's the coldest night of the year so far... so if he's out there barefoot in just a t-shirt, he could already be hypothermic."

My stomach twisted. He was saying it like Stiles was already fading. Like time was slipping away too fast.

"Let's move fast. Let's think fast," the Sheriff continued. Then he turned to us. "The two of you, come with me."

We followed him into his office, the door closing behind us. He looked at me hard. "Okay... Is there anything you need to tell me that I can't tell anyone out there?"

I hesitated, then forced it out. "Lydia knew he was missing. She felt it."

He didn't blink. "Can she help find him?"

Isaac answered for me. "She's working on it."

"Anything else?"

I nodded quickly. "I called Derek and Allison for help. And..." I paused, the words catching in my throat. "Cassie... we don't know what's wrong with her. She's stuck in some kind of trance."

"A trance?" he repeated, eyes narrowing. I could see the worry in his eyes. I knew Cassie might as well be his daughter.

"She was just standing there," I said. "Staring at the investigation board in Stiles' room. Her eyes were wide open, but silver. Like she wasn't in her body. Like she was trapped somewhere else... maybe with him."

The Sheriff dragged a hand over his face. He looked like he wanted to be angry. Like he wanted to yell at me for not calling him sooner. But all I saw was fear, the kind that only a parent could carry.

"Can you find him by scent?" Before I could answer, Parrish burst through the door.

"We got it, sir. We found the Jeep."

Sheriff Stilinski didn't hesitate. "Gear up," he told us. "We're going now."

-----☾-----

I woke up freezing.

Not like the air was cold — like something had stolen the warmth from inside me, like it had been taken and hidden somewhere far beneath the roots of the earth. I was standing, somehow, even though I had gone to bed in Stiles' bed with him. My boots crunched softly on dried leaves. Fog drifted low along the forest floor.

The Nemeton stood in front of me.

Massive. Dead. Ancient.

Its bark was cracked and dark like burn scars, the roots twisting out from its base like black veins. The clearing was silent, not even the wind whispering through the trees.

I tried to take a step forward. My body didn't respond.

My breath fogged in front of me. I wasn't sure if I was actually breathing or just remembering how.

A voice behind me whispered.

"You came back here again."

I turned, or maybe the world turned around me. A figure stood just at the edge of the tree line. I couldn't see their face, just a silhouette. Smoke clung to them like a cloak.

"I didn't choose this," I said, or thought. My voice echoed strangely. Too loud and too distant at the same time.

"No," the voice agreed. "But you were chosen."

I looked down at my hands.

They were covered in ash.

"You're the sacrifice," the voice continued, stepping closer. The figure didn't materialize, just smoke, light filtering through like sunshine through tree leaves. "The balancer. The one who walks the edge but never tips the scale."

"I'm not-" I stopped, because I knew I was. "I didn't ask for this."

"The Nemeton doesn't care what you asked for."

Suddenly I was closer to it, standing before the trunk, the rot and moss creeping up the bark like veins pulsing with old blood. I reached out, not because I wanted to, but because it pulled me.

"You think this is about your friends?" the voice said from behind. "About Stiles? No. This is about you. The way you tether them. The way you stop the chaos from pulling them under."

"I'm not strong enough for that."

"You were already sacrificed once," it said, low and reverent. "When you gave part of yourself to bring them back. The tree remembers. And it doesn't forget its debts."

I blinked. The world shifted. Now I was in the woods. A different time. A different season. And I was on my knees.

I was bleeding.

Then I heard his scream. Stiles.

I tried to stand, but I couldn't move.

"You came back here again," it was a new voice coming from the trees.

It was something older. Crueler. More amused than it had any right to be.

"You're the one who holds the leash, aren't you?" another voice whispered. Smooth. Mocking. The words curled around my ear like smoke. "The tether. The balance."

The trees around me began to twist, their branches curling like claws.

"You're not here because you're brave, Cassandra Lightwood," it said, using my full name like a curse. "You're here because you bleed for them. Because you can't help it. You keep the wolves from going mad. You keep the banshee from breaking. You keep him grounded. So noble. So soft."

"Shut up," I growled, spinning around, but there was no one behind me.

"I could unmake you if I wanted," it whispered from everywhere at once. "But I'd rather break you. Piece by piece. Thought by thought. What happens when the balancer tips the scales?"

"I will do anything to protect my friends" I hissed. The air thickened. The Nemeton's roots pulsed beneath my feet like veins.

"Oh, I know, protector," the Nogitsune purred. "A shame you will fail. You won't be enough."

A shape formed in the fog ahead, a twisted reflection of me, eyes glowing with the same silver that had just filled mine. She smiled with my mouth, but the grin didn't reach her eyes. It was sharp. Cruel.

The Nemeton behind me groaned, and the voice leaned in again, silk and venom.

"I know you wake up at night wondering who you'd let die if it meant saving the others. I know you would bleed for every single one of them. And I know... that if I ever touched your mind the way I touched his-" I stepped back, chest heaving. "You'd beg me to stop. And part of you would mean it."

I shut my eyes.

"No," I whispered. "Leave him alone. Take me. I'll be the sacrifice instead."

Silence.

Then laughter.

Soft. Sweet. Terrible.

"Not yet."

I backed away.

"You're not meant to stop him," the voice whispered now from inside me. "You're meant to balance him. And if he falls, you must rise."

"I don't understand." My voice cracked, tears in my eyes.

"You will."

The Nemeton cracked open. Light spilled through. Silver. White. Blinding

Then darkness.

I gasped as I woke up, the sound ripping from my throat like someone drowning on dry land.

I was still in Stiles' room. My legs buckled, and I collapsed to my knees. Lydia was in front of me in an instant, eyes wide.

"Andie!" Her voice sounded miles away. My head was still full of fog, like the Nemeton's roots had wrapped around my spine and refused to let go.

I clutched the carpet, breath hitching. I was on the floor, knees burning from carpet friction, my breath tearing through my throat like glass.

"Andie..." Lydia's voice cracked as she knelt in front of me. "You're back. Hey—hey, look at me."

Her hands were warm against my arms. Steady. Grounding.

I forced my gaze up to her face. Her eyes were red. Not from tears but from holding them back too long.

"It was the Nemeton," I whispered. "I was there."

Lydia nodded slowly, like she already knew.

I blinked. The room swam for a second. "He was there too," I said. "Not with me, but... close. I could hear him screaming."

She swallowed hard. "Stiles?"

I nodded, trying to speak again, but my voice cracked and caught on the weight in my chest.

"You scared us Andie. We just found you here, staring with silver eyes, unmoving."

I let out a shuddering breath. "I think it left a mark. I think it touched something in me."

"You're still here," Lydia said, squeezing my hand. "You made it back. That means you beat it."

"Did I?"

She pulled me into her arms before I could say another word.

It felt like falling into warmth after drowning.

She held me like I was breakable, and for the first time since this whole nightmare started, I felt like I was.

"You're okay," she whispered. "You're okay. You're safe. And we're going to get him back."

I nodded into her shoulder, even though my throat was too tight to answer.

Then her phone buzzed.

She pulled away, just enough to check the screen.

Her eyes widened. She looked up at me.

"They found him," she said.

"What?"

"They found him," Lydia repeated, rising to her feet. "He's alive. He's at the hospital. We have to go."

I was already standing. My knees threatened to give out, but I didn't care. I would crawl there if I had to.

-----☾-----

The hum of hospital lights was too bright, too sterile. I sat in one of those vinyl chairs near the nurses' station, still wearing the same clothes I'd worn when I collapsed in Stiles' room. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. I kept them balled into fists in my lap, nails digging into my palms.

Sheriff Stilinski knelt down in front of me. Not beside me. Not behind a desk. In front. Eye level.

"Cassie," he said, voice soft but sharp with concern. "Are you okay?"

I didn't know how to answer that.

He sighed and reached out, placing a hand gently over mine. It was a father's touch. Not a cop's. Just a dad, terrified for two kids he loved who had the world hanging on their shoulders.

"Scott tried to explain what was happening to you. He said you wouldn't move. Wouldn't blink. That your eyes were... wrong."

"They're better now," I murmured, avoiding his gaze. "I came back."

He nodded, but his eyes didn't relax. "Do you remember what happened?"

"I was somewhere else. The Nemeton. It showed me things. And something talked to me."

His hand tightened just slightly. "You did good," he said after a moment. "Whatever that thing was, it didn't get you. And you helped us find Stiles."

A lump rose in my throat. "Is he okay?"

"He's sleeping now," he said gently, rising to his feet. "And he's just fine. He doesn't remember much. It's a bit like a dream to him. We're getting ready to run some tests."

Across the hallway, I could see Melissa standing beside the MRI prep room, talking quietly with Dr. Vandenberg. Her brow was furrowed. The Sheriff went to speak with them as Scott came to sit beside me.

Scott came to sit beside me in the chair, his shoulders still damp from the rain outside, eyes flicking over my face like he was trying to scan for injuries even a wolf couldn't heal.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked softly.

I gave a shaky nod. "Define 'okay.'"

He let out a half-hearted laugh, then leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, looking down at his hands.

"You scared the crap out of us, Cass."

"I scared myself," I admitted. "I thought I was going to wake up somewhere... else. Or not wake up at all."

Scott looked over at me again, and for a moment, he didn't look like the Alpha. He just looked like a kid, scared, exhausted, trying not to show it.

"You're here now," he said. "You pulled yourself back."

"No," I said, and the word felt raw. "I think he pulled me back."

Scott didn't have to ask who I meant.

He nodded once, then gently bumped his shoulder into mine. "He's going to be okay. And so are you." I didn't answer, but I leaned into him a little, just enough to let myself feel grounded again.

Inside the MRI room, Dr. Vandenberg flipped through the intake paperwork and squinted. "I'm not sure I know how to pronounce this... or if it's not actually a misspelling..."

The Sheriff's voice followed, just slightly annoyed. "Just call him Stiles."

The door to the prep room opened behind the glass. I stood up before I even realized I was moving.

And there he was.

Stiles walked out, hoodie sleeves rolled up, hair a mess, his movements a little stiff — but alive. Awake. Real. I exhaled so hard it hurt.

He saw me immediately. His eyes softened.

"Hey," he said, voice low and warm and the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.

I didn't run to him, but only because I didn't want to break something fragile. Something tender. I walked, slow, controlled, like gravity pulled me into him.

He opened his arms without hesitation.

I folded into him like I belonged there.

His chin rested on the top of my head, and my fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie like I could hold him here by sheer will.

"I saw you," I whispered.

"I know," he said, his voice thick. "I heard you."

"I don't care what that thing says," I said. "You're still you."

He nodded once, but it was hesitant, like he wasn't totally sure.

"Hey," Melissa called gently from the doorway. "They're ready for him."

Stiles turned his head and nodded to her, then looked back at me. His eyes met mine for a second. He gave me the tiniest smile. Brave. Like he was the one comforting me.

"You know what they're looking for, right?" he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. "It's called frontotemporal dementia. Areas of your brain start to shrink. It's what my mother had. It's the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers... and there's no cure."

"Stiles," Scott said from behind me. "If you have it, we'll do something."

"I'll do something."

Stiles got on the MRI bed, I kissed him one last time before stepping back. Dr. Vandenberg adjusted a dial. "Okay, Stiles... This will take about forty-five minutes to an hour. Now, remember, try not to move, even a little bit."

"Stiles, you're going to hear that noise now," he added. "It's going to be a loud clanging, kind of like a hammer hitting an anvil."

The MRI machine started to whir.

I turned away from the window and leaned against the wall. My fingers were cold again. Not from the hospital AC, from something else.

The lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then went out completely.

Every machine in the room shut down with a low whump, followed by total silence.

Then—

I wasn't in the hospital anymore.

Not really.

I was back at the Nemeton. But now it was burning. Its roots were on fire, glowing silver and orange and black like molten wire. Sparks danced through the air like embers.

Fireflies hovered in front of me, blurring the flickers of flames.

Behind them, Stiles. Eyes wide, his silhouette crackling with arcs of electricity. He didn't see me. He didn't move. His shadow flickered in and out of view shifting into something else.

And standing between us, the Oni.

Their masks glinted under the flames, eyes hollow, bodies still. But I could feel them watching me. Waiting.

The fireflies burst.

The Oni vanished.

A scream echoed through the Nemeton, not mine. Not Stiles'.

But something ancient. Something laughing.

-----☾-----

The vision faded. But the static didn't.

It clung to me, in my ears, under my skin, buzzing at the base of my spine.

Then a voice cut through it.

"Cass!" It was panicked. Familiar. Real.

Hands grabbed my shoulders.

"Cass, come on, look at me- hey, look at me!"

Scott.

I gasped as the world slammed back into place fluorescent lights above, hospital floor beneath. My legs were moving, but I didn't remember telling them to.

Scott was dragging me down the hall toward the emergency exit. His grip was firm, but not rough.

My mouth was dry.

"What- what's happening?" I stumbled after him, trying to keep up.

"Stiles is gone," he said.

My blood froze. "No. No, he was just- he was right there, I saw him-"

"He's gone, Cassie." Scott's voice broke. "He walked out. We don't know how. No one saw him leave."

We crashed through the doors into the cold night air.

The parking lot was chaos.

Red and blue lights from a deputy's cruiser spun against the white hospital walls. Nurses yelled. Melissa was already outside, shouting instructions into a radio.

Then I saw it.

A puddle of water glinting beneath a parked car. A live wire hanging down from the pole overhead, sparking where it swayed too close to the ground.

"No—Scott—Scott!" I yanked my arm free, pointing.

Allison was stepping toward the puddle, focused on something ahead.

She didn't see it.

But I did. Isaac did.

He lunged, dragging her out of the way and hitting the water himself.

"ISAAC!"

The wire snapped down.

It hit the water.

Sparks exploded like a firework, and he collapsed mid-step, seizing, a scream ripped from his throat before it was drowned in the sound of voltage.

"NO!" I screamed, running toward him.

Scott reached him first, grabbing his shoulders and dragging him back from the water. Isaac's body twitched violently in his arms, his face pale, chest heaving.

He was alive. But barely.

-----☾-----

I'm standing in the woods.

It's silent.

The trees part ahead of me, and I see Stiles.

But he's not Stiles. He's wearing him. Like a suit.

His eyes flick toward me. Empty. Sharp.

"Do you miss him?" the Nogitsune asks in his voice.

"Yes," I whisper.

He smiles like that's exactly what he wanted.

-----☾-----

Lydia finds me barefoot in the middle of the street at 3 a.m.

I don't remember leaving my bed.

I don't remember putting on my coat.

I don't remember crying.

But my cheeks are wet.

She wraps a blanket around me and doesn't say anything.

She doesn't need to.

-----☾-----

Stiles is running through Eichen House.

He turns a corner.

I follow.

I see my own reflection in the cracked mirror on the wall.

My eyes are silver again.

Behind me, an Oni watches in silence.

-----☾-----

Scott's arm is around my shoulders.

We're sitting on the floor of Deaton's clinic.

My knuckles are bloody from where I punched the tile. I don't remember doing it.

"Your heart rate spiked," he says. "You started muttering in Japanese."

I don't speak Japanese.

-----☾-----

I'm back at the Nemeton.

But it's inside.

It grows from the center of a hospital hallway like it forced its way up through the linoleum.

Stiles is kneeling before it.

He's smiling.

But it's not his smile.

"You can't balance chaos," the Nogitsune whispers, leaning against the bark like it belongs to him. "You can only choose what breaks first."

-----☾-----

I'm back in my room.

There's dirt under my nails.

Pine needles tangled in my hair.

I don't remember leaving the house.

And through it all, I keep hearing his voice.

Not Stiles.

The other one.

The thing wearing him.

And it keeps asking the same question.

"What do you balance when everything falls?"

—Scott POV—

The loft was cold, but no one said anything about it.

We were all standing or sitting in a loose circle. The table was cluttered with books, takeout containers, an open laptop, and Deaton's old bestiary. But no one was really looking at any of it. Not anymore.

We were here for something else.

Cassie.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the brick pillar, staring at the floor, trying to figure out how to say what was clawing at my chest.

"She doesn't sleep," I said finally. "Not really. She closes her eyes for a few minutes, and when she wakes up, she's somewhere else. In the woods. The street. The school. She doesn't remember how she got there. Sometimes she's bleeding. Sometimes she's just... gone for hours."

Lydia's voice was quiet but urgent. "That's not just a psychic episode. That's—it's like she's being pulled."

Allison nodded. "Like something's calling her."

"She's not possessed," I said quickly. "It's not like with Stiles. She's not... corrupted."

"She's connected," Lydia said, gently offering the word to me. "To him. To the Nemeton. To the Nogitsune. Something's echoing between them, and it's using her like a conduit."

"Like a tether," Ethan said, frowning. "But backwards. Instead of anchoring him, it's pulling her into his chaos."

"She's unraveling," Aiden muttered. "I've seen it before. Not like this, but... that look in her eyes? That's what it looks like when someone's slipping."

I felt my jaw tighten. "She's not slipping."

"Scott," Allison said softly.

"I'm not giving up on her," I said, sharper than I meant to. "She's not just some side effect of the Nogitsune. She's Cassie. She's part of this pack. And she's trying to hold it together while being ripped apart from the inside."

There was a long silence. Derek was the one who finally spoke. His voice was calm. "Then the only thing we can do," he said, "is make sure she's never alone."

Everyone looked up. He didn't flinch.

"Until we figure out what's happening to her, until we find a way to sever this link, she's not out of our sight. Not for a second."

"Shifts?" Ethan asked.

"Rotations," Lydia confirmed. "Someone with her at all times."

"I'll take nights," Allison offered immediately.

"I'll cover school," I said. "And I want to be there for every trance. Every one of them. Call me as soon as you see the silver."

"Good," Derek nodded. "Because if it's anything like the Alpha Pack and Jennifer, she holds more power than we even realize."