25

I didn't remember walking home.

One moment I was in the woods, standing in the suffocating silence after hearing Max's voice crack through the dark, and the next I was back in Max's house, pacing, clenching my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms.

Scott had him.

Scott was hurting him.

And for what? For answers? For some self-righteous crusade where he got to feel like the hero while destroying everything I had left?

I could feel the shadows coiling around me, slithering up my arms like they knew. Like they were waiting for me to give them a reason.

"I'm done waiting," I muttered.

I stood in the middle of the living room, closed my eyes, and let the anger burn.

The shadows responded instantly.

They curled around me, flickering, vibrating, ready. I didn't even need to ask. They could feel it, the rage, the betrayal, the need.

"Find him," I whispered.

The darkness surged outward like a pulse. It wasn't gentle this time. It was violent, and it tore through the room like a living thing. I didn't even need to move, within seconds, I could feel them searching, stretching through Beacon Hills like black tendrils.

And then, connection.

I could see it. A glimpse. An old industrial building on the edge of the preserve. Scott's scent. Max's blood. The shadows latched onto it, feeding me everything, every little detail, like they wanted me to go. To unleash them.

I didn't hesitate.

The darkness swallowed me whole.

—————————————————————————

When I opened my eyes, I was standing inside the building.

Concrete walls, rusted metal beams. The air was thick with the stench of blood and sweat. And there, tied to a chair, was Max.

He looked like hell. Bloody lip, cuts across his face, but his eyes lit up when he saw me. Of course they did. He always smiled like this wasn't serious. Like it was all a game.

"Took you long enough, darling."

Before I could answer, Scott stepped out of the shadows, looking furious and confused all at once.

And It wasn't just Scott this time.

The pack was there too.

Derek stood off to the side, arms crossed, jaw tight like he was just waiting for an excuse to rip someone's head off. Lydia was behind him, looking uneasy, but her eyes darted to me like she was trying to figure out what the hell was happening. Malia lingered near the doorway, claws half-out, ready to pounce.

And Scott. Scott stood there, still trying to look like the hero in this disaster of a scene, like he wasn't just minutes ago torturing Max for answers.

I didn't even blink. The shadows around me roared to life.

"I thought you were the True Alpha," I said, stepping forward, "the big, moral, don't-kill-anyone Alpha."

Scott's jaw clenched. "I didn't kill him, did I?"

Derek scoffed, stepping in closer. "And he's already dead, so it makes no difference. Maybe you won't kill this bloodsucker, Scott, but I will."

My fist clenched. The shadows pulsed in response, wrapping tighter around my arms, my legs, itching for a command.

"You all think you're so righteous," I hissed. "Torturing someone in an abandoned warehouse because you think you know what's best."

"Stiles," Lydia tried to say, her voice cautious, careful. I didn't want careful. I wanted honesty. Fury. Something real.

"I should kill all of you," I said, voice trembling, not with fear, but with the overwhelming urge to rip the oxygen right out of their lungs.

"No," Max's voice cut through, sharp despite how wrecked he looked. "Stiles, no."

"Why not?" I snapped, turning to him, and for a second the anger blurred everything else. "Look at you. Look at what they did to you. Why aren't you healing?"

Max exhaled, a shaky, humorless laugh. "They gave me vervain. Slows healing. And they took my ring. So the sun's damage? It doesn't just heal easily when you don't have protection."

I stared at the burns across his skin, the cracks that hadn't closed, the way his breath still caught like every inhale was a fight.

"I'll kill all of you," I said again, voice lower, darker.

"Stiles, listen to us," Lydia's voice cut through the tension, sharp and urgent. "This isn't you. You're not thinking clearly."

"You're acting like you're possessed again," Malia growled, stalking a few steps closer, claws halfway out like she was ready to pounce. "He's using you."

"You don't get to decide who uses me, and Max is not using me," I hissed, Max was still bleeding, still breathing ragged, but his smirk hadn't faded.

Scott took a cautious step forward, arms spread like he thought he could talk me down. "Stiles, you have to trust me. He's a vampire. He's killed people. He's dangerous. He's not your friend."

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you my friend, Scott?" I spat. "Because friends don't kidnap and torture my boyfriend behind my back."

"Ooh he called me his boyfriend" Max said

"Max shut up"

"I did it to protect you!" Scott snapped, his alpha eyes flashing red, his claws sliding out with a threatening click. "He's messing with your head. He's going to kill you the second he gets bored of you. You're blind, Stiles!"

I didn't even flinch.

But the shadows did.

They surged, fast and violent, slamming Scott back against the wall so hard the concrete cracked behind him. His body tensed, struggling against the tendrils coiling around his throat and wrists, pinning him like an insect to a board.

"Wrong choice of words," I said coldly.

Derek snarled and lunged forward, claws raised, but the shadows met him mid-air, wrapping around his legs and yanking him to the ground with a bone-shaking thud. Malia darted in next, but the darkness was faster, lashing out and immobilizing her before she even got close. Lydia screamed for them to stop, but the shadows didn't care about screams.

They were mine.

"Stiles!" Scott choked out, thrashing against the grip, his voice cracking. "You're making a mistake. He's using you, he's going to drain you dry the second you let your guard down!"

"Why does everyone assume I need saving?" I snapped, the fury boiling over. "I'm not your project, Scott. I'm not some weak, broken human you get to protect when it's convenient for you."

"You're wrong, Stiles!" Lydia's voice was desperate now. "You're not thinking straight. This isn't you! Look at yourself, this power, this darkness, it's not you!"

"No," I said, voice low, controlled, as the shadows tightened their grip. "This is exactly me. The me you all ignored. The me you left behind."

Scott's face was turning red, his breathing shallow as the shadows choked him tighter.

"Stiles, don't," Max muttered, weak but sharp. "I said no."

"Why not?" I growled, eyes locked on Scott's. "Look what they did to you. Look at him. Why not let them feel what it's like to be helpless? You do it all the time. You kill people and you don't flinch. Why is this different?"

"Because I can live with what I've done," Max said "My conscience is clean. Can you do the same, darling?"

The words hit like a slap.

I closed my eyes, swallowing the rage, forcing my hands to relax. The shadows obeyed reluctantly, slithering back into the cracks of the floor, releasing their grip on the pack. Scott crumpled forward, gasping for air, Derek coughed, Malia was on her knees panting, and Lydia just looked at me, like she didn't recognize who I was anymore.

But I didn't care.

"I should kill you all," I said, steady, cold. "But I won't. Because he asked me not to. Not because of you."

I wrapped my arm tighter around Max's waist after untying him from the chair and started walking out. No one tried to stop us this time.

But as I passed Scott, I leaned in close, just enough for him to hear.

"Next time you come after him, you better pray the shadows show you mercy. Because I won't."

Scott didn't reply.