Chapter Text

Chapter 1 – The Body in the Woods

Eleanor Platt hated the smell of hospitals.

Not in the way most people did—disinfectant and stale air, sharp chemical bite lingering in the back of your throat. That she could live with. It was the other smell, the one only long shifts brought out: exhaustion, adrenaline, grief. You couldn’t mop that away with bleach or hide it behind the cafeteria’s burnt coffee.

Ellie pushed the heavy door of Beacon Hills Hospital open with her shoulder, a tired sigh escaping her lips. Midnight shifts weren’t glamorous, but fresh out of medical school she wasn’t in any position to complain. The residents who’d graduated with her were scattered across the country, crammed into big-city programs that chewed them up and spat them out. She’d chosen Beacon Hills for something smaller, something closer to the quiet she thought she wanted.

“Eleanor, you’re a miracle worker,” Melissa McCall said behind her, tugging her scrubs bag higher on her shoulder.

Ellie glanced back at the older woman with a weary smile. “Hardly. You’re the one covering a double again.”

Melissa smirked, her dark hair escaping its bun. “Single mom life. If Scott were old enough to drive, maybe I’d get to sleep before sunrise. He’s probably still awake anyway, glued to his Xbox or running around with Stiles in the woods.”

“In the woods?” Ellie raised a brow. “At midnight?”

Melissa shrugged with a laugh that was more fond than worried. “They think they’re invincible. I let them learn the hard way.” She adjusted her bag. “Get some rest, Ellie. You look dead on your feet.”

“Thanks. Always the encouragement I need,” Ellie teased, heading toward the parking lot.

The night air was crisp, tinged with pine and damp earth. Beacon Hills always smelled like the forest, no matter where in town you stood. Ellie unlocked her beat-up Subaru and slid behind the wheel, already picturing the best part of her night: Cookie waiting at home.

Cookie nearly bowled her over when she opened the door.

The Rottweiler’s glossy black-and-tan coat gleamed under the hallway light as she wriggled her whole body, tail wagging furiously. Ellie knelt to bury her face in Cookie’s neck, inhaling the warm, familiar smell of her dog.

“Hi, baby girl. You miss me?”

Cookie let out a low whine, licking Ellie’s jaw before trotting in circles toward the kitchen. Food, then a walk—that was their ritual.

Ellie dropped her bag, tugged off her sneakers, and followed. “You’re spoiled, you know that? But don’t tell anyone at the hospital. They’ll start saying I care more about you than my patients.”

Cookie barked once, sharp, as if in agreement.

Ellie fed her, then slipped on a hoodie and let her outside into the yard. The house she rented backed right up against the edge of the preserve, towering pines stretching into shadows. Usually she loved the quiet—the soft chorus of crickets, the distant rush of wind through branches. But tonight something felt…different.

Cookie’s head snapped up mid-sniff. She growled low in her throat, ears pricked toward the treeline.

Ellie frowned, stepping onto the porch with her arms wrapped around herself. “Coyotes again?” she murmured.

Cookie barked once, deep and urgent. Then she lunged forward, muscles taut, pulling against the leash Ellie barely caught in time.

“Hey! Whoa, girl.” Ellie steadied herself, flashlight beam cutting into the dark. The trees loomed, shadows shifting in ways that felt unnatural. For a moment—just a moment—she thought she heard voices.

Faint, carried on the wind.

A boy yelling, “Scott! Run!”

Ellie froze. Cookie snarled, hackles raised. Something heavy crashed through the underbrush in the distance.

Her heart hammered. “Hello?” she called, instantly regretting it. The forest swallowed her voice.

The sound stopped. The night fell silent again, too silent.

Cookie strained harder, but Ellie tugged her back. “Not tonight,” she whispered, throat tight. “Come on.”

She ushered Cookie inside, double-locking the back door. Still, long after she crawled into bed, she couldn’t shake the feeling she wasn’t the only one awake out there in the woods.

By morning, the whole town was buzzing.

The hospital cafeteria was louder than usual, nurses clustered around tables with paper cups of coffee clutched in their hands.

“You heard about the body, right?” one whispered.

“Half a body,” another corrected. “In the preserve. Sheriff’s men found it around two this morning.”

Ellie paused in the doorway, tray balanced in her hands. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

Melissa appeared at her side, already sipping her coffee. “Don’t listen to them. They’ll say Bigfoot did it if it makes their shifts more interesting.”

Ellie lowered her voice. “Is it true?”

Melissa’s mouth pressed into a line. “Something happened, yeah. The Sheriff was here earlier. He didn’t say much, just that it’s being handled.”

A flash of memory: Cookie’s growl, the crashing in the trees, that voice—Scott?—shouting in the distance.

Ellie forced her face neutral, though her pulse quickened. “Strange things for a quiet town.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Melissa said with a humorless laugh. “Beacon Hills is never as quiet as it looks.”

Later that afternoon, Ellie stopped at the small corner store on her way home. She was bone-tired, ready to collapse into bed, but Cookie was out of food, and ignoring her Rottweiler’s appetite was a death sentence.

The bell above the door jingled as she stepped inside, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly. She headed toward the pet aisle, grabbing the largest bag of kibble she could carry.

At the register, someone else was already waiting.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark jacket.

Ellie didn’t recognize him at first—Beacon Hills was small, but she hadn’t grown up here, so there were still faces she didn’t know. He kept his head slightly lowered, dark hair shadowing his eyes, but something about him made the air feel heavier.

When he turned, their gazes met.

Green eyes. Intense, unblinking.

Ellie’s breath caught, just for a second.

Cookie, tied up outside by the door, started barking—not nervous, not warning. It was deeper, almost…alert.

The man’s gaze flicked toward the sound, then back to Ellie. No words. No smile. Just a look that felt like he saw straight through her.

She forced herself to pay, muttered thanks to the cashier, and slipped past him with the bag balanced against her hip. Outside, Cookie pulled at the leash, ears flat, eyes locked on the man as he exited behind them.

Ellie tightened her grip on the leash. “Easy, girl.”

The man didn’t look back.

But Ellie couldn’t shake the feeling he’d noticed her in the same way Cookie had noticed him. Not just as another passerby, but as something…different.

That night, Ellie lay in bed with Cookie curled against her legs.

She stared at the ceiling, replaying everything—the gossip about the body, the echoes in the woods, the stranger’s unrelenting stare.

Beacon Hills was supposed to be quiet. Safe.

But something in her gut told her the peace she’d been chasing had just shattered.

Out in the night, wolves howled.

✨ End of Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Chapter 2 – Second Chance at First Line

Ellie hadn’t planned on being awake this early.

Her alarm hadn’t even gone off when Cookie jumped onto the bed, all sixty pounds of muscle landing squarely on her legs. Ellie groaned, shoving her face into the pillow.

“Cookie, I swear, if this is about squirrels again—”

A wet nose nudged her ear. Persistent. Ellie peeked one eye open to find her Rottweiler staring at her with unnerving focus, head tilted toward the window.

The house was quiet, but the woods weren’t.

Somewhere in the preserve, a sharp howl split the morning air.

Cookie growled low, the sound vibrating through the mattress.

Ellie sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Wolves, really? That’s what we’re doing today?”

But it wasn’t just any howl. Something about it raised the tiny hairs on her arms, like a sound you felt in your bones before your ears caught up.

Shaking her head, Ellie pushed out of bed. “Alright. Walk first. Coffee later.”

By the time she reached the hospital for her late shift, the morning’s unease had dulled but not disappeared.

The ER was buzzing in its usual barely-controlled chaos. Melissa McCall breezed past with a chart in hand, giving Ellie a quick smile.

“You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Ellie snorted. “Thanks, you always know how to flatter.”

Melissa chuckled. “Scott’s first lacrosse practice today. He’s been buzzing like he drank three Red Bulls. I’ll be shocked if Coach doesn’t kick him out for breaking something.”

Ellie tilted her head. “I thought he wasn’t really into sports?”

“Exactly,” Melissa said, amused. “But suddenly he’s full of energy. Teenagers.”

Ellie smiled, though Melissa’s words lodged in her chest. Energy. Change. She remembered that voice in the woods, calling Scott’s name.

And now a body had turned up.

Something didn’t add up.

Ellie finished her shift just after sunset. The last thing she wanted was to stop for groceries, but her fridge contained only expired yogurt and a questionable jar of pickles. Cookie deserved better than that.

The store was half-empty, the kind of lull that made fluorescent lights hum louder. Ellie tossed basics into her basket and wandered toward the checkout—only to freeze when she saw him again.

The man from the other night.

Dark jacket, dark hair, standing at the far end of the aisle as if he’d stepped out of her memory. His gaze wasn’t on her this time—it was locked on the doorway, scanning every person who entered like he was expecting danger.

Cookie, tethered to the cart, let out a sharp bark.

The man’s head turned. His eyes met Ellie’s.

For a second, neither moved.

Then, without a word, he walked past her and out of the store.

Ellie exhaled slowly. Her heartbeat was too loud in her ears.

“Who are you?” she muttered under her breath. Cookie whined in agreement.

That night, Beacon Hills High hosted its first lacrosse scrimmage of the season. Ellie hadn’t gone—sports weren’t her thing—but Melissa had begged her to come by the hospital afterward, just in case her son pulled something.

So Ellie was in the break room when the doors burst open.

Scott McCall stumbled in, Melissa at his side, rambling about some incredible play he’d made. Stiles Stilinski trailed behind, talking just as fast, his voice bouncing off the tile.

Melissa smiled proudly, but Ellie’s trained eye caught something else—Scott’s pupils, blown wide. His breathing, shallow. Sweat glistened at his temples.

Not the look of an ordinary teenager coming off the field.

Ellie pushed off the counter. “Melissa, can I—”

But before she could finish, Scott brushed it off with a nervous laugh. “I’m fine, seriously. Just—excited. That’s all.”

Melissa gave Ellie a look that said don’t worry.

Still, Ellie couldn’t shake it.

That same bone-deep feeling prickled at her again.

Like the howl in the woods. Like the man in the store.

Something was happening in Beacon Hills, and she was standing right in the middle of it.

Hours later, she took Cookie for a walk along the preserve’s edge, the moon bright above the trees.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket—Melissa, texting about Scott, about how proud she was. Ellie smiled faintly at the message, even as Cookie tugged toward the shadows, nose twitching.

“Not tonight,” Ellie whispered, pulling her back.

But she wasn’t alone.

From across the clearing, half-hidden by the trees, someone was watching.

Ellie’s chest tightened as her eyes adjusted to the dark.

The man again.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just stood there, still as the forest, his gaze locked on her.

Cookie barked once, sharp and commanding.

The man turned away and disappeared into the trees without a sound.

Ellie swallowed hard, the echo of that howl still ringing in her bones.

Whoever he was, he wasn’t a stranger anymore.

He was a warning.

✨ End of Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Chapter 3 – Shadows in the Pines

The sound woke her before she understood what it was.

Cookie was barking—deep, furious, her paws scratching against the hardwood as she threw herself at the back door. Ellie shot upright, heart racing, her room still cloaked in darkness.

“Cookie?”

The Rottweiler’s growl vibrated through the house, guttural and low. Not her usual “there’s a raccoon in the trash” bark. This was different.

Ellie stumbled out of bed and grabbed her flashlight from the nightstand. The clock read 2:13 a.m.

“Hey—easy, girl,” she whispered, crouching down to grip Cookie’s collar before she rattled the door right off its hinges.

Then she heard it.

A howl.

Long, drawn out, splitting the night wide open.

It wasn’t coyote. She’d grown up in the mountains of Oregon—she knew what coyotes sounded like. This was deeper, richer. It pulled at her bones, and she felt goosebumps crawl over her skin before she even realized she was shivering.

Cookie stiffened in her grip, her whole body trembling with tension. For a moment Ellie thought she saw something—faint, impossible—two glowing points in the treeline, like eyes catching a reflection.

Then the night fell silent.

Cookie whined softly, and Ellie pulled her back from the door. “We’re not doing this right now,” she muttered, throat dry. “Whatever’s out there, it can stay out there.”

But when she finally went back to bed, she didn’t sleep. Not really.

The next morning at the hospital, rumors were already flying.

“Did you hear about the bus?” a nurse asked at the station as Ellie clocked in. “Driver got attacked. Middle of the road. Like—torn up.”

Ellie froze mid-motion.

Melissa breezed past with a chart in hand, catching the look on Ellie’s face. “Don’t ask unless you want nightmares.”

“Too late,” Ellie muttered, following her.

In the ER, the bus driver lay on a gurney. Blood stained his clothes, and his chest rose and fell in ragged gasps. Ellie helped secure IV lines, her eyes flicking to the wounds on his side.

They weren’t clean cuts. They weren’t jagged either. They looked…wrong.

“Knife?” she asked softly.

“Tell me what kind of knife leaves marks like that,” Melissa said grimly, shaking her head.

Ellie swallowed. The gashes were too deep, too even, like something sharp had raked across his body with terrifying precision. She thought about claws, but she didn’t say it out loud.

Her medical brain whispered trauma from an animal. But her gut whispered something else.

Something she didn’t want to name.

Hours later, the hospital finally slowed, and Ellie stepped out into the cool night air.

The parking lot was mostly empty, shadows stretching long under flickering lamps. She tightened her grip on her keys, exhaustion pulling at her but unease crawling just as sharply across her skin.

That prickling sensation again. Being watched.

Her gaze snapped to the far corner of the lot.

There he was.

Leaning against a sleek black Camaro, posture relaxed but presence anything but. The man she’d seen twice before. The stranger with the dark jacket and sharper eyes than anyone had a right to.

Derek Hale.

Ellie didn’t know his name yet, but she felt it—the way his gaze tracked her, the way the air seemed heavier when he was near.

She froze by her car. He didn’t move toward her. Didn’t speak. Just watched.

For a long moment, neither of them did anything.

Finally, Ellie slid into her Subaru, heart hammering as she started the engine. She pulled out of the lot, glancing once in the mirror.

He was still standing there.

At home, Cookie bounded to greet her, tail thumping the doorframe. Ellie crouched to rub her ears, burying her face briefly against warm fur.

“You wouldn’t believe the day I had,” she murmured, her voice muffled.

Cookie leaned into her touch, letting out a content huff.

Ellie straightened, setting a pot of water on the stove. Cooking wasn’t her strong suit, but it was comforting—chopping vegetables, stirring something warm while Cookie sprawled across the kitchen floor like a lazy shadow.

“You ever feel like…” She paused, knife in hand, staring at the simmering pan. “Like the whole town is in on some big secret, and you’re the only one nobody told?”

Cookie thumped her tail once.

Ellie sighed. “Yeah. Me too.”

The next day, Melissa was all smiles at work.

“You should’ve seen him, Ellie. Scott was unstoppable. Coach almost had a heart attack.”

Ellie smiled faintly. “Since when does Scott play like that?”

“Since two days ago, apparently,” Melissa said, laughing. But Ellie caught the flicker of worry underneath. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but he’s…different.”

Ellie tilted her head, her chest tightening. “Different how?”

Melissa hesitated, then shrugged it off. “Teenagers. Growth spurts. Hormones. What do I know?”

Ellie didn’t push, but she filed it away. Another piece in the puzzle she didn’t want to admit she was putting together.

That night, Ellie tugged on her hoodie and clipped Cookie’s leash. The preserve was quiet, the air sharp with pine. Cookie trotted ahead happily, sniffing at the underbrush, tugging her toward familiar paths.

Halfway down the trail, Cookie stopped dead.

Ears pricked. Body stiff.

Ellie frowned. “What is it?”

She lifted her flashlight. The beam cut through the trees—then caught movement.

Her breath stilled.

There he was.

Closer this time.

Derek Hale stood half-hidden in the shadows, his jacket dark against the trees. His face was clearer now, and the intensity in his eyes made Ellie’s stomach flip.

She froze, gripping Cookie’s leash tight. The Rottweiler didn’t bark. She didn’t growl. She simply stared back, silent, as if she recognized him in some way Ellie couldn’t understand.

Ellie’s pulse roared in her ears. “Who are you?” she whispered, though he was too far away to hear.

Or maybe he did.

Because his gaze didn’t waver.

For a moment, it felt like he was about to step forward. Say something.

Then, just as quickly, he turned and melted back into the forest.

Cookie stayed tense for a few more heartbeats, then relaxed with a soft whine.

Ellie swallowed hard, her throat tight. She tugged Cookie gently back toward the house.

Back in her kitchen, she sank onto the couch, Cookie’s head in her lap.

“I think Beacon Hills is hiding something,” she whispered. “And I think he knows exactly what it is.”

Outside, in the distance, the wolves howled again.

✨ End of Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Chapter 4 – The First Words

Ellie had always liked the preserve.

When she first moved to Beacon Hills, she told herself the woods were the reason. She could walk for miles, lose herself in the sound of wind threading through pines, and imagine she wasn’t tethered to fluorescent hospital lights and endless night shifts.

But lately, the forest didn’t feel like an escape.

It felt like something alive. Watching. Waiting.

Cookie’s nails clicked against the wooden porch as Ellie unlocked the back door. “Alright, girl. Quick walk, then we’re both getting actual sleep, I promise.”

The Rottweiler tilted her head, ears pricked as if already disagreeing.

Ellie clipped on the leash anyway. Together, they followed the narrow dirt path into the trees. The moon hung low, bright enough to cast sharp shadows across the ground.

At first, it was quiet. Peaceful. But halfway in, Cookie stopped.

Not with her usual playful tug, but with her whole body braced, muscles tense.

“Cookie?”

A rustle answered her. Movement up ahead.

Ellie raised her flashlight, the beam shaking in her hand. For a second, she thought she’d see glowing eyes again.

But what she saw was worse.

A man stumbling through the trees, clutching his shoulder. Blood slicked his jacket. His steps were uneven, dragging.

“Oh my God—sir?” Ellie dropped to her knees as he collapsed onto the trail.

Up close, she recognized him. Not his name—she still didn’t know that—but his face. The man who kept appearing and disappearing like a ghost.

Derek Hale.

Ellie’s heart hammered. She snapped into doctor mode, shoving down every question that screamed inside her head.

“Don’t move. Let me see.”

He growled—not in pain exactly, but in warning. “Go home.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Ellie muttered, already pressing her hands against his shoulder. Blood seeped hot between her fingers. The wound was deep, too deep.

“Bullet,” Derek ground out through clenched teeth.

Ellie’s stomach dropped. “You’ve been shot?”

He didn’t answer, but his jaw tightened.

Cookie whined, pacing at the end of the leash, torn between protectiveness and something like recognition.

Ellie grabbed her phone. “I’m calling an ambulance—”

His hand shot up, gripping her wrist with startling strength. His eyes locked on hers, intense, unyielding. “No hospitals.”

Ellie froze. “You’re bleeding out.”

“No hospitals,” he repeated, voice low and dangerous.

Something in his tone made her chest tighten. Not fear—though she probably should’ve been afraid—but something else. Something that told her he was serious, and that she didn’t want to know why.

Still, she couldn’t just walk away.

“Then you’re coming with me,” she said, more firmly than she felt.

He blinked at her, as if surprised.

“My house is five minutes from here. I’ve got supplies. You’ll bleed out before you get wherever you think you’re going.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them.

Then, finally, he gave a single, sharp nod.

Getting him inside was hell.

Derek was heavier than he looked, all hard muscle and stubbornness, and he hated leaning on her. By the time they reached her living room, Ellie’s back ached and her palms were slick with his blood. Cookie hovered anxiously, pacing in circles around them.

“Couch,” Ellie ordered, steering him down. “Stay put.”

To her surprise, he obeyed.

Ellie sprinted for her med kit. When she returned, he was pale but alert, his eyes tracking her every move like a cornered animal.

“This is going to hurt,” she warned, snapping on gloves.

He didn’t flinch when she probed the wound, but his knuckles whitened on the couch cushion.

“Bullet’s lodged,” she murmured. “I can try to get it out, but—”

“Do it.”

Ellie set her jaw. “You don’t make things easy, do you?”

A flicker of something—humor, maybe—passed through his eyes.

She worked quickly, trying not to think about how insane this was. A stranger in her house, bleeding from a gunshot wound, refusing the hospital. She should have called the sheriff. She should have called Melissa.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she found herself focused on the man in front of her—the way he bore the pain without a sound, the way his gaze stayed fixed on her face like he was measuring her worth.

Finally, with a sharp tug, the bullet came free.

“Got it,” she breathed, dropping the bloodied metal into a tray.

Derek exhaled slowly, tension rippling through him.

Ellie cleaned and dressed the wound, her hands steady despite her racing pulse. When she finished, she sat back, peeling off her gloves.

“You’ll live,” she said, voice tired.

He studied her for a long moment. Then: “Why help me?”

Ellie blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t know me. You should’ve left me in the woods.”

Ellie frowned. “I’m a doctor. That’s not what I do.”

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Respect, maybe. Or suspicion.

Before she could press, he pushed himself to his feet, staggering only slightly.

“Hey, you’re not going anywhere,” Ellie protested, rising with him. “You need rest. Stitches. Antibiotics—”

“I’ll heal.”

Her brow furrowed. “Not without help you won’t.”

But he was already heading for the door.

Cookie barked once, sharp, as if in protest.

At the threshold, Derek paused. He glanced back at Ellie, eyes catching the dim light. For the first time, he spoke her name.

“Eleanor.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, like he already knew.

Her throat tightened. “Who are you?”

His gaze lingered on hers, unreadable.

Then he was gone, disappearing into the night as silently as he’d appeared.

Ellie stood frozen, Cookie pressed against her leg, the bloody tray still cooling on the table.

Beacon Hills wasn’t just keeping secrets anymore.

They had just walked through her front door.

✨ End of Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Chapter 5 – Echoes

The bullet was still in her kitchen.

Ellie kept it in a small glass vial tucked into the back of her cupboard, hidden between a bottle of Tylenol and a jar of peanut butter. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thrown it away. Maybe because she couldn’t quite believe it had happened at all.

She had imagined plenty of strange nights working the ER. But not this.

Not a stranger bleeding out in her arms. Not his impossible eyes knowing her name before she had ever spoken it.

Not the way he vanished like smoke.

Derek Hale.

She still didn’t know his name. Not really. But she knew him. The memory of his weight against her shoulder, the heat of his blood, the rough edge of his voice when he told her no hospitals—those details were burned into her skin.

And now, every night, when Cookie stopped in the yard and stared too long into the dark, Ellie found herself whispering: "Are you out there?"

The hospital was quieter than usual the next morning. Quieter, but tenser too.

Ellie had just finished checking on an elderly patient when she heard the raised voices at the desk. Melissa was standing there with her son—Scott—beside her, shifting on his feet like he couldn’t stay still for more than a second.

“Mom, I’m fine,” he insisted.

“You fainted in the locker room,” Melissa snapped back, her nurse’s instincts clearly overriding her mother’s sympathy.

Scott flushed when he noticed Ellie. “Uh—hi.”

Ellie smiled faintly. “Hi yourself. You keeping your mom busy?”

“Always,” Melissa muttered, rifling through Scott’s chart.

Ellie’s gaze flicked over him automatically—flushed face, pupils dilated, pulse thumping too hard at his throat. It didn’t read like low blood sugar. It didn’t read like dehydration. It read like something else.

“Any dizziness now?” she asked gently.

“Nope. Totally fine,” Scott said too quickly.

Melissa gave Ellie a look that said don’t push it.

But Ellie’s instincts screamed. Something was happening to this boy, and it wasn’t in any textbook she’d studied.

That night, Ellie dreamed of the woods.

The howl came first—long, mournful. Then the eyes, flashing in the dark. She turned her flashlight, but it wasn’t a wolf that stepped out of the shadows.

It was him.

Derek, blood still blooming across his jacket, whispering her name.

“Eleanor.”

She jolted awake, sweat slicking her skin. Cookie whined at the foot of the bed, then padded over and pressed her warm body against Ellie’s side.

“It’s just a dream,” Ellie whispered, though her voice shook. “Just a dream.”

But when she drifted back to sleep, the sound of his voice still followed her.

On her next night off, Ellie took Cookie for a long walk. The moon was thin above the trees, the air sharp with the scent of pine and damp earth.

Cookie pulled eagerly, nose twitching at every rustle in the brush. Ellie tried to focus on the rhythm of her steps, the crunch of leaves underfoot. But she couldn’t shake the feeling.

The feeling of being watched.

Every few minutes she’d snap her head over her shoulder, flashlight beam cutting across empty trees. Nothing. Always nothing.

But the air felt heavy. Weighted.

“Alright,” Ellie murmured to Cookie. “We’re going back.”

They turned, heading home. And that’s when she saw it.

A figure, barely visible between the pines.

Tall. Still. Watching.

Her breath caught, and she froze mid-step. Cookie stiffened at her side.

The flashlight beam flickered across bark and shadow, but when she lifted it again, the figure was gone.

Ellie’s pulse thundered. She tugged Cookie toward the house, fumbling with the keys when they reached the porch.

Inside, she locked every door and window.

Then she leaned against the wall, heart racing.

She told herself it was her imagination. That the woods were full of shapes that looked like men when your brain was tired.

But in her gut, she knew.

He was still out there.

Derek Hale hadn’t vanished at all.

He was watching.

Waiting.

Two days later, Ellie’s shift bled past midnight.

The ER was steady but not overwhelming, and she was halfway through a chart when Sheriff Stilinski walked past. His face was tight, jaw clenched, talking low into his radio.

Ellie caught words—animal attack, body, preserve.

Her stomach sank.

Melissa joined her at the counter, rubbing tired eyes. “Another one,” she muttered. “It never ends here.”

“Do you believe it?” Ellie asked softly.

Melissa blinked. “Believe what?”

“That these are…animal attacks.”

Melissa hesitated, then forced a tired laugh. “What else would they be?”

Ellie wanted to answer. She wanted to say claw marks on the bus driver. A man bleeding out in my kitchen. Eyes in the dark.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she just said, “Right. What else.”

That night, when she finally crawled into bed, Cookie curled tight against her legs.

Ellie stared at the ceiling, sleep elusive.

“Why me?” she whispered into the dark. “Why keep showing up?”

Cookie thumped her tail once, then sighed heavily.

Ellie closed her eyes, but she already knew:

Derek Hale was gone.

And yet, somehow, he was everywhere.

✨ End of Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Chapter 6 – Questions in the Dark

Ellie had just closed the doors behind her when the knock came.

It was late—too late for visitors, too late for anyone sane to show up without a reason. Cookie perked up instantly, ears pricked, tail stiffening. Ellie’s chest tightened.

“Who’s there?” she called, in a tone sharper than she intended.

“Sheriff Stilinski.” The voice was low, cautious.

Ellie blinked. “The sheriff?”

“Mind if I come in?” He held up a badge briefly before she could respond. There was an edge to him tonight—serious, almost worried.

Ellie stepped aside, gesturing to the living room. Cookie sat at her feet, vigilant but calm.

“What brings you here at this hour?” she asked, sitting across from him.

He didn’t answer right away. He scanned the room, eyes lingering on Cookie, on the corners where shadows pooled, then finally settled on her.

“Dr. Eleanor Platt. You work at the hospital, right?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “Beacon Hills Hospital. ER, mostly. Why?”

He hesitated. “You’re a doctor. You notice things, right? Things most people wouldn’t.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “I…try to. What kind of things?”

“Like injuries that don’t make sense. Like someone—or something—attacks people and leaves marks that shouldn’t exist.”

Her stomach tightened.

“People have been hurt lately. Not minor stuff.” He leaned forward, voice dropping. “Claw marks. Deep lacerations. One victim found near the preserve. Another on the road. You’ve probably heard the rumors.”

Ellie nodded. “I’ve heard. But you know, rumors aren’t exactly reliable.”

“Not rumors,” he corrected. “Reports. And that’s why I’m here. I need someone who can look at this with a clear eye. A professional. Someone who doesn’t just see a story but sees the body, the wounds, the truth behind them.”

Ellie’s throat tightened. She knew he was asking more than just for her medical opinion. He wanted her insight into something…unnatural.

“I don’t know if I can help,” she said cautiously.

“Maybe you can,” he said, voice firm. “I don’t know what’s happening in Beacon Hills. I don’t know what’s attacking these people. But I do know that someone like you—someone trained, observant, calm under pressure—might be able to see patterns that I can’t.”

Cookie growled softly, nudging against Ellie’s leg.

Ellie swallowed. “So you want me to…?”

“Just answer some questions. Give me your opinion. Tell me what makes sense and what doesn’t.”

Ellie nodded, though her stomach was a knot of unease. This was bigger than her normal ER work. This was…something else entirely.

He passed her a small notebook with notes about the injuries, locations, times.

“Take a look,” he said. “Anything stand out?”

Ellie flipped through it, noting how precise the entries were: time of attack, victim description, type of injuries, odd environmental details.

“Patterns,” she murmured. “There are patterns here.”

He leaned closer. “Exactly. Something is hunting them. Something not human. And I don’t know what it is.”

Ellie’s hands tightened on the notebook. Her mind flashed to Derek Hale—the man who had bled out in her kitchen, the one who vanished without a trace.

“You’ve seen…things,” Stilinski said, almost reading her thoughts. “Strange injuries, unusual marks. You’re noticing details everyone else misses.”

“I notice details,” she said cautiously. “But what makes you think…that these attacks aren’t normal?”

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “Instinct. Experience. And…something about this town.”

Ellie glanced at Cookie, who was watching the sheriff as if she understood more than either of them.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked softly.

“Just keep your eyes open,” he said. “Pay attention. And if you see anything…strange, call me. Don’t ignore it. Not this time.”

Ellie nodded, closing the notebook carefully.

The sheriff gave a curt nod, then turned toward the door. “I’ll be in touch.”

Cookie growled again, low in her throat, as if warning Ellie to pay attention.

Ellie swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the unseen threats pressing closer.

Beacon Hills was changing.
And she was starting to see that it wasn’t just the teens, or the preserve, or even the wolves.

It was something bigger.

Something hiding in the shadows.

And for the first time, Ellie wondered if she had already walked too close to it to ever step back.

✨ End of Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Chapter 7 – Threads in the Dark

Ellie sat cross-legged on her couch, Cookie curled in her lap, flipping through the notebook Stilinski had left her. Every page was meticulous: times, locations, injuries, odd details.

She had already started making her own notes, jotting observations and connecting dots. Something about the attacks didn’t add up. The injuries weren’t random, and they weren’t entirely human. Claw-like slashes, patterns in the terrain, timing…too consistent.

“Why am I doing this?” she muttered. Cookie let out a soft huff as if reminding her she didn’t need to ask permission.

Because no one else was paying attention. Melissa dismissed it. The ER staff shrugged it off. Stilinski was stretched too thin, and Beacon Hills was small enough that most people assumed accidents happen.

Ellie’s medical mind couldn’t accept that.

She grabbed a map of Beacon Hills from her kitchen drawer, spreading it across the table. With a pen, she marked every reported incident. Then she pulled up a small flashlight and traced lines between them.

Patterns emerged.

All near wooded areas.
All close to bodies of water.
All under the cover of night.

Her pulse quickened.

“It’s hunting them,” she whispered to Cookie. The Rottweiler pressed her head into Ellie’s hand, eyes solemn. “But why these people?”

Ellie paused, recalling the bus driver, the park attack, the boy from the preserve. There was no connection that was obvious, no shared lifestyle or history—but maybe…maybe she was missing something small. Something subtle.

That night, Ellie took Cookie for her usual walk along the edge of the preserve. The woods were quiet, too quiet. Her flashlight bounced across the trees, catching movement in the underbrush.

Again, she thought. He’s here.

Her pulse jumped. Not Derek directly—he hadn’t appeared in days—but that same eerie feeling, the one that had prickled her the first night she’d glimpsed him, lingered.

Cookie stiffened beside her. The Rottweiler growled low, hackles raised.

Ellie froze. Shadows shifted in ways her mind couldn’t explain. She spun the flashlight—nothing. Empty. Still, her gut screamed that someone—or something—was watching.

She let out a shaky breath. “Okay. Focus. Patterns. Connections.”

Back at her house, Ellie spread out her notes again, comparing times, locations, and details with hospital records she could access discreetly. She started noticing subtle consistencies.

Some victims had scratches in unusual locations, like someone—or something—had climbed or lunged at them. Others had marks that were too precise to be an animal attack, but their stories all sounded “natural” to the police.

“Someone’s covering this up,” she muttered. Cookie whined softly in agreement.

She realized she was chasing a puzzle. One with missing pieces—but the edges were clear.

Meanwhile, the town carried on.

Scott and Stiles still spent their nights in the woods, oblivious to Ellie’s calculations. Ellie occasionally glimpsed them on the edges of her patrols or in the news—the boy who had become a “super-athlete overnight,” and his obsessive best friend.

She didn’t approach them. She couldn’t—this wasn’t her fight yet. She was a civilian, an outsider, though her medical training gave her insights the sheriff didn’t always have time for.

Still, she began keeping an unofficial ledger of everything: locations, witness statements, injuries, even odd animal behavior. Cookie’s reactions often served as an extra data point: the growls, the sudden freezes, the alert stares at trees where nothing should be.

Patterns emerged even more clearly now.

Ellie’s breakthrough came when she compared the times of attacks with the phases of the moon.

Her pen hovered over her notes.

“It’s predictable,” she murmured. Cookie nudged her hand. “Not random.”

Her heart thumped. Something about that knowledge was exhilarating—and terrifying.

Because if she was right, the next attack could be anticipated. And she could help prevent it.

The next evening, Ellie was walking Cookie near the preserve again, tracing the trail she’d already walked hundreds of times, testing her own theory.

Moonlight spilled through the trees, long shadows stretching across the path. Cookie suddenly froze, hackles raised, ears forward.

Ellie froze too. She held the leash tighter, her flashlight sweeping the brush.

Movement.

A shadow darted between trees. Too fast for a human, silent, deliberate.

Ellie’s breath caught. She crouched, flashlight pointing toward the blur—but it was gone.

Cookie growled low.

Ellie whispered, almost to herself, “I know you’re there.”

And she believed it.

At the edge of the preserve, she paused, looking back toward the faint lights of town.

Beacon Hills was changing. The attacks were escalating. And someone—or something—was controlling the shadows.

She didn’t know how far into the darkness she could safely go. But for the first time, she understood she was already involved.

Even if she stayed on the periphery, even if she didn’t speak to Scott, Stiles, or the others—her calculations, her observations, her instincts—were starting to connect dots no one else had noticed.

She wasn’t just a doctor anymore.

She was a witness.

And in Beacon Hills, witnesses didn’t stay safe for long.

✨ End of Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Chapter 8 – Crossing Shadows

Ellie had stopped counting the nights she spent tracing the preserve’s trails. Each walk with Cookie felt like a thread through a living puzzle, a test of her own ability to see what others overlooked.

Tonight, the air was damp, mist curling low across the grass. Cookie padded quietly beside her, ears twitching at every subtle sound. Ellie’s flashlight cut through the gloom, illuminating nothing but the familiar twisted shapes of oak and pine.

Yet something felt different.

The hairs along her neck pricked. That same weight, the sense of being watched, pressed into her shoulders. She froze mid-step.

Cookie growled.

Ellie’s heart thumped. “Okay, Cookie. Slow. Steady. Let’s see what you see.”

She swept her flashlight across the underbrush. There—a brief movement, shadowed and deliberate, gone before her eyes fully focused.

Not human.

Her pulse accelerated. She wanted to run back to the lights of town, to her house, to the safety of Cookie’s warm body curled against her legs. But curiosity and instinct rooted her to the spot.

Somewhere deeper in the woods, a low growl echoed. It wasn’t close, but it wasn’t far either.

Cookie stiffened and tugged against her leash, nose twitching toward the sound. Ellie’s stomach dropped. She was no longer just walking the preserve. She was tracking a predator.

Back at home, Ellie spread her notes across the kitchen table, each mark and observation aligned with the timeline of attacks Stilinski had shared. She had begun connecting small but undeniable patterns: the timing coincided with moon phases, the locations clustered near the edges of the preserve, and now the sightings of something—or someone—moving silently in the trees were becoming more frequent.

She traced the lines with her finger.

Predictable. Controlled. Intelligent.

Not random. Not wild. Not ordinary.

Cookie sat nearby, head resting on her paws, as if she understood the implications better than Ellie did.

Ellie’s hand tightened around her pen. “If I’m right…” she whispered, “…someone could get hurt tonight.”

She didn’t know how she knew, but instinct told her the next incident would happen near the creek at the preserve’s far edge. She grabbed her flashlight, jacket, and a small first aid kit. Cookie’s tail wagged once as if affirming the plan.

The forest was quieter than usual, the mist heavier, the moon obscured behind thick clouds. Shadows shifted unnaturally in the darkness. Every step felt like crossing into another world.

And then she saw him.

A flash of movement across the trees. Tall, silent, deliberate. She froze.

Derek Hale.

He wasn’t close enough to reach, not yet—but his presence filled the air, the same impossible weight she had felt since the night he bled in her kitchen. His eyes glinted briefly in the dim light before he melted back into the shadows, unseen but unmistakable.

Cookie growled low, hackles raised. Ellie’s throat went dry. She whispered, almost to herself: “He’s here…again.”

Minutes later, movement at the creek caught her attention. A figure struggled against the water, a dark silhouette flailing near the edge.

Ellie ran, heart hammering. “Help! Someone!” she shouted, flashing her light.

The figure disappeared beneath the surface for a moment—then lunged up. A boy. Terrified. She didn’t know him, but instinct took over. She reached out, gripping his arm.

Something—too fast for her to track—pushed the boy out of reach. He staggered onto the bank, soaked and gasping.

And then Derek stepped from the shadows, silent as smoke, standing between Ellie and the boy.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice low and commanding.

Ellie’s heart skipped. “Neither should you,” she shot back, more startled by his presence than anything else.

Derek’s gaze flicked to the creek, then back to her. “Step back.”

“I can’t,” she said, voice firm. “He needs help.”

The boy coughed violently, shivering. Ellie grabbed the small first aid kit from her bag. Derek’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t stop her.

Carefully, she checked the boy for injuries: scratches along his arms, bruises forming across his torso. Nothing life-threatening—but enough to tell her the attack had been brutal.

“You’re not human,” the boy gasped, glancing at the shadows behind her.

Ellie froze. Derek’s head tilted slightly, unreadable, but his presence was a warning. She glanced back at him. “Neither are you,” she whispered under her breath, though the words weren’t for him.

Derek’s eyes flicked toward her, a brief spark of something—approval? curiosity?—in their depths.

“You’re lucky I’m here,” he said finally, voice rough. Then he was gone again, disappearing into the mist like a shadow carried by the wind.

Ellie stayed with the boy until he could walk, making sure he had shelter and a way home. Cookie leaned against her leg, ears twitching, alert to every sound from the forest.

When she returned home, Ellie leaned against the doorframe, shaking slightly.

“Who is he?” she whispered to Cookie. “Why does he keep showing up?”

The Rottweiler let out a soft sigh, nudging Ellie’s hand with her nose.

Ellie’s notes lay scattered across the table. Patterns, observations, the timing of attacks…everything pointed to something she couldn’t fully explain.

And yet, one thing was clear: Derek Hale wasn’t just a stranger in the woods anymore. He was part of it.

Part of the darkness. Part of the puzzle.

And now, Ellie realized with a shiver, he was part of her investigation too.

✨ End of Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Chapter 9 – Warnings in the Shadows

Ellie had never considered herself particularly brave. But the last few weeks had changed that.

She was standing at the edge of the preserve once more, Cookie alert at her side, notebook clutched in one hand, flashlight in the other. Her observations—the attacks, the timing, the patterns—had become an obsession. Every detail mattered, every anomaly a clue.

Tonight, though, she felt watched in a way that made her skin crawl.

Not the ordinary feeling of lurking raccoons or deer. Something deliberate. Predatory.

He’s back, she thought, stomach tightening.

And she was right.

From between the trees, a shadow detached itself. Derek Hale emerged, silent as smoke, his jacket dark against the mist. He stopped several feet away, arms crossed, eyes fixed on her.

“Why are you here?” His voice was low, guarded.

Ellie swallowed, steadying herself. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he scanned the woods, his jaw tight. Then his gaze returned to her, sharper now.

“You’re too close.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes. “To what?”

He didn’t reply.

Cookie growled softly, tugging at the leash, warning her. Ellie ignored it. “Look, I don’t know what you are,” she said carefully, “but people are getting hurt. I’ve been keeping track. Patterns, injuries, locations…”

Derek’s eyes flickered, almost approving, almost warning. “You shouldn’t be involved.”

“I am involved,” she said firmly. “Whether I like it or not. And I’m not walking away. Not when people are being hurt.”

He studied her for a long moment. Then, just as silently as he had appeared, he vanished back into the shadows.

The next day at the hospital, Ellie tried to focus on normal work, but her mind kept returning to the preserve.

Melissa noticed her distraction. “You’ve got that far-away look again,” she said. “Anything…strange?”

Ellie shook her head, forcing a small smile. “Just tired, I guess.”

But she was far from tired of thinking. She spent the next hours comparing the attacks’ times with other unusual events in Beacon Hills: unexplained animal deaths, strange weather patterns, even Scott’s sudden strength and agility. Everything was connected in some way, though the pieces didn’t fit neatly yet.

She began labeling notes in a new way: possible predator, location, time, observed anomalies.

Cookie watched her carefully as she worked, ears twitching at every distant sound. Ellie often thought the dog understood the danger better than she did herself.

That night, a new threat appeared near the preserve: a teenager who had wandered too far from the trail. Cookie barked, growled, then stopped, staring into the shadows. Ellie’s flashlight swung to the dark treeline just in time to catch a glimpse of movement—too fast, deliberate, silent.

She ran toward the kid, but before she could reach him, Derek stepped between her and the figure.

“You shouldn’t run in there,” he said, tone like gravel.

Ellie hesitated, hand tightening on the first aid kit she carried like armor. “I’m not leaving him.”

He studied her, then nodded slightly. “Stay behind me.”

Ellie followed, heart pounding. Together, they reached the teenager, unharmed but shaken. Derek’s presence was protective, almost territorial. He didn’t speak much, just kept a vigilant watch as she checked the teen for scratches or bruises.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured again, voice almost a growl. “It’s not safe.”

“I know,” she said, meeting his eyes. “But I’m not running away either.”

His expression softened fractionally, though his eyes remained wary. “Be careful. People die when they get involved too soon.”

Ellie didn’t respond. She simply wrapped her jacket tighter, keeping both Cookie and the teen close, feeling the weight of his warning—and knowing she wouldn’t walk away.

By the time she returned home, her hands shook slightly from adrenaline. Cookie pressed close, nudging her gently.

Ellie picked up her notebook again. She began connecting all the dots: the locations of attacks, the victims’ profiles, the timing, and the fleeting appearances of Derek.

He’s not the danger, she realized. He’s a warning.

And that thought both reassured and terrified her.

Beacon Hills was darker than she had imagined. The threads she had begun to trace led deeper into something terrifying, something she could only begin to comprehend.

And Derek Hale—shadow, predator, protector—was intertwined with it.

Ellie knew one thing for certain: she was no longer on the sidelines.

She was a witness, a recorder of the unseen.

And the shadows were starting to notice.

✨ End of Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Chapter 10 – The Edge of Danger

Ellie had learned to trust her instincts. Not the logical ones trained in medical school, not the data-driven ones from charts and notes, but the subtle, primal ones that had whispered at her since the first night Derek Hale had bled in her kitchen.

Tonight, that instinct screamed louder than ever.

The preserve was quiet. Too quiet. Mist clung to the trees in thick curtains, making even familiar trails feel strange, dangerous. Cookie padded ahead, nose twitching at every sound. Ellie’s flashlight cut through the shadows, illuminating the twisted roots and low-hanging branches.

Then Cookie froze.

Her body stiffened, ears pricked forward, hackles rising.

Ellie stopped, her pulse spiking. She scanned the darkness. A shadow flitted between trees, too fast for her to track.

Her stomach tightened.

She wasn’t alone.

A scream shattered the stillness.

Instinct took over. Ellie sprinted toward the sound, Cookie at her side, the flashlight swinging wildly. The scream led her to a small clearing near the edge of the creek. There, a teenage girl was struggling—trapped, her foot caught in a tangle of roots, panicked.

Something moved in the shadows behind her.

Ellie froze, heart hammering. The movements were too fast, deliberate, predatory. The glint of teeth caught the moonlight.

She didn’t think. She acted.

“Hey!” Ellie shouted, voice firm, commanding. “Get away from her!”

Cookie growled and lunged, barking. The creature—whatever it was—stopped, hesitating, then melted back into the trees.

Ellie ran to the girl, crouching to check her for injuries. Scratches, bruises forming along her arms, but nothing life-threatening. “You’re okay,” Ellie said, voice soothing. “I’ve got you.”

The girl’s eyes were wide with terror. “It… it came out of nowhere,” she stammered.

“I know,” Ellie said, keeping her voice steady. “I’m here now. You’re safe.”

From the shadows, movement. Silent, deliberate.

Derek Hale stepped into the clearing. His presence was sudden, commanding. His dark eyes scanned the area, then flicked to Ellie.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice low, almost a growl.

“I saved her,” Ellie shot back, more firmly than she had intended. “Someone had to.”

He studied her, expression unreadable. Then his gaze swept the clearing, noting the disturbed leaves, the disturbed shadows.

“Good,” he muttered finally, almost reluctantly. “But next time, stay back.”

Ellie’s hands tightened on the flashlight. “Next time, I won’t.”

His eyes lingered on her, unreadable, intense. Then he disappeared again into the forest, leaving only the echo of his presence.

Ellie stayed with the girl until she was safely escorted home by a passerby, noting the locations, the scratches, and the time. Cookie nudged her hand as they walked back, as if acknowledging the victory.

Back at her house, Ellie spread her notes across the table. Every attack, every pattern, every brush with danger—it was all connecting now.

She added Derek’s appearances to her ledger, noting the strange timing: always arriving after she had stepped closest to danger, always warning, never intervening in full.

“He’s…not the danger,” she whispered to Cookie. “He’s the warning.”

The Rottweiler thumped her tail, lying down beside her. Ellie smiled faintly, exhausted but focused.

Beacon Hills was a town of shadows and secrets. And for the first time, Ellie realized she was no longer just observing. She was part of the story now—part of the thread that connected victims, predators, and the one who walked between the darkness and the light.

And somewhere, in those shadows, Derek Hale was watching, waiting, perhaps approving. Perhaps warning. Perhaps both.

Ellie didn’t know yet.

But she would find out.

✨ End of Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Chapter 11 – Watching the Patterns

Ellie’s nights had grown longer than her days.

Between hospital shifts and the preserve walks with Cookie, she spent hours poring over notes, maps, and reports. Every attack, every scratch, every detail she could get her hands on, she cataloged meticulously. The patterns were becoming clearer—and more disturbing.

She had begun noticing subtle correlations with events at the high school: sports schedules, late-night practices, the timing of absences and strange injuries. It wasn’t perfect, but her gut told her something important was hiding in plain sight.

The knock on her door was soft but deliberate.

Ellie grabbed Cookie’s leash instinctively and moved toward the door. It wasn’t Derek this time, but Sheriff Stilinski, looking more concerned than ever.

“Ellie,” he said, eyes scanning her house, landing on her notes spread across the table. “I need your help.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “You still think I’m crazy?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I think you notice things most people don’t. You helped me see patterns before, and now… we’re running out of time.”

Ellie gestured for him to sit. “Go on.”

Stilinski laid out the recent incidents: a hiker scratched up near the preserve, a report of an animal attack near the high school parking lot, and a new string of minor injuries that didn’t make sense.

Ellie’s eyes scanned the timeline, noting the subtle gaps and overlaps. “They’re not random,” she said, more to herself than him. “Someone—or something—is hunting at night, but not indiscriminately. There’s a rhythm.”

The sheriff nodded. “Exactly. And I can’t be everywhere. You… you notice things. You connect the dots. I need that.”

Ellie swallowed, the weight settling on her shoulders. “So you want me to… investigate on my own?”

“Yes,” Stilinski said firmly. “But stay careful. Whoever—or whatever—this is, they’re dangerous. And you’re not just a witness anymore.”

Ellie nodded, glancing at Cookie. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

That night, she walked the preserve with renewed focus. Every rustle, every shadow, every twitch of a leaf was data. Cookie led her instinctively, alert to things she couldn’t yet see.

From the edge of the woods, she noticed movement: a flash of dark jacket, a figure between the trees. Her pulse spiked.

Derek.

He didn’t approach this time. Just watched, hidden but present, as if measuring her. Ellie froze. Cookie growled softly but didn’t advance.

Ellie whispered, almost to herself: “I’m not afraid of you.”

Derek’s shadow shifted in the trees, almost imperceptibly. Then he melted back into the darkness, leaving only the echo of his presence.

Ellie’s investigation continued in the days that followed. She began recording more precise data: times, locations, environmental details. Even small anomalies like broken branches, displaced rocks, and scuffed bark were added to her ledger.

Every thread pulled her closer to understanding the predator stalking Beacon Hills.

And every thread reminded her that Derek Hale, whatever he was, had a stake in this too.

She didn’t fully understand why he appeared when he did, or why he seemed to warn her without interfering. But she knew one thing: he was watching.

Back at the hospital, Ellie pieced together another troubling observation: several attacks had occurred near high school events, mostly at night after lacrosse practice. She filed it discreetly, making sure to mark the times and locations for Stilinski.

Cookie pressed against her leg as if sensing her worry. Ellie whispered, “We’re close, girl. I can feel it.”

Her investigation was becoming dangerous—but necessary.

Beacon Hills was teetering on the edge of something she couldn’t fully comprehend. And for the first time, Ellie realized she might not be able to stay on the periphery much longer.

✨ End of Chapter 11

Chapter Text

Chapter 12 – Signals in the Night

Ellie had grown accustomed to walking the line between the ordinary and the dangerous. Most people in Beacon Hills went about their lives unaware of the invisible threads weaving through the town—the threads she had spent weeks tracing. Every attack report, every strange injury, every animal sighting, every shadow in the preserve—it all formed a lattice she couldn’t ignore.

Cookie padded beside her, alert and tense. The Rottweiler had become more than a companion; she was Ellie’s barometer, reading the invisible currents of the town’s underworld. Tonight, the mist was heavier than usual, thick and curling along the ground, muffling sound, hiding movement.

Ellie’s flashlight cut through the fog, bouncing off tree trunks and twisted roots. Each step she took was careful, deliberate. She had learned that in Beacon Hills, one misstep could cost you more than a bruise.

She stopped suddenly, ears straining. Something moved between the trees—a shadow flicking across the corner of her vision. Cookie growled low.

Ellie froze, scanning the underbrush. Her pulse quickened. She didn’t see anything at first, just a subtle shifting in the mist, a faint rustle that wasn’t caused by wind.

He’s here, she thought, and her stomach tightened.

Derek Hale emerged, silent as smoke, from between two ancient oaks. He didn’t approach; he only stood, watching her with those dark, unreadable eyes. His presence was magnetic, tense, impossible to ignore.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said finally, low, almost a growl, yet not entirely harsh.

“I know,” Ellie replied, her voice steady despite her heart hammering. “But someone could get hurt tonight.”

Derek’s jaw clenched. For a moment, he studied her, silent, measuring. Then he vanished as quickly as he had appeared, leaving only the whisper of his presence in the fog. Cookie’s growl lingered as her tail twitched, alert.

Ellie took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. She wasn’t here to meet Derek—she was here to observe, to anticipate, to understand.

Later, back in her house, she spread out her notes across the table. Every report, every personal observation, every scratch, and cut she had recorded was cataloged meticulously. She had begun layering them: time of attack, location, moon phase, nearby animal behavior. Slowly, a pattern was emerging.

She traced a finger across the map. Most attacks were clustered near wooded areas, near water, near places where human traffic was sparse at night. The timing wasn’t random either; something was deliberate. Something intelligent.

Ellie scribbled notes furiously, adding details she had observed firsthand. “They’re testing,” she whispered to Cookie, who lay at her feet, ears twitching. “Testing limits, seeing how people react, learning.”

A sudden scratching sound outside her window made both of them freeze. Ellie’s pulse spiked. She raised her flashlight, sweeping it across the house balcony and yard. Nothing. The wind? A small animal? She couldn’t tell. But her instincts told her: This town is alive in ways people don’t see.

Ellie decided to check the preserve again that night. Cookie’s leash was tight in her hand, flashlight swinging as they navigated the fogged paths. Every branch, every rustle, every reflected glint of moonlight was noted. She moved methodically, aware that she was walking through an environment that was as dangerous as it was ordinary-looking.

Halfway to the creek, she saw a figure across the clearing—a shadow in motion, too fast, too precise to be human. She froze, breath catching. Cookie growled, hackles raised.

Then a branch snapped. The shadow darted, and she caught just a glimpse of a tall, dark figure slipping between the trees. Derek. Again.

Ellie’s chest tightened. She didn’t move, didn’t call out. Instead, she observed. He didn’t approach, didn’t speak. He simply lingered at the edge of the clearing, watching her, assessing.

He’s testing me, she realized. Or warning me.

She didn’t know which, but instinct told her both were true.

A sudden noise closer to the creek pulled her attention. A teenage boy stumbled out from the mist, scratches marking his arms and legs, eyes wide with fear.

Ellie rushed to him. “It’s okay, I’m here,” she said, voice firm but soothing. “You’re safe now.”

She checked him for injuries: superficial scratches, bruising forming along his torso and legs. Nothing life-threatening, but enough to confirm her fears: something dangerous was hunting in the preserve tonight.

From the treeline, a rustle. Movement. Ellie stiffened, flashlight trembling slightly in her hand. Derek stepped from the shadows, positioning himself between her and the edge of the forest. His eyes scanned the underbrush, every muscle taut, every sense alert.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he said quietly, voice calm but lethal.

“I can’t leave him,” Ellie replied. “Someone needed help.”

Derek’s gaze lingered on her for a long, unreadable moment. Then, without another word, he melted back into the shadows. The only sound left was Cookie’s low growl and the boy’s ragged breathing.

Ellie guided the boy to the trailhead, making sure he had a way home, noting every detail in her mind for later.

Back at her house, she spread her notes again. She recorded the boy’s injuries, the time, the location, the way Derek had appeared and disappeared, always precise, always silent. She began cataloging his appearances as well as the attacks, a new variable in her investigation.

She realized Derek wasn’t the predator. He was something else. Something between guardian and shadow. A warning—but one that remained distant, impossible to fully grasp.

Cookie rested her head on Ellie’s lap, sensing her tension. Ellie rubbed her ears, sighing. “We’re closer,” she whispered. “Closer to understanding what’s happening.”

Outside, the mist lingered. Beacon Hills was alive, shifting, dangerous. And Ellie, despite the fear gnawing at her gut, knew she could no longer remain on the sidelines.

Her observations, her instincts, her patterns—they were part of the town’s unfolding story now. And somewhere in those shadows, Derek Hale was watching. Waiting. Judging. Warning.

Ellie tightened her grip on the notebook. She had questions. She had patterns. And soon, she would have answers.

✨ End of Chapter 12

Chapter Text

Chapter 13 – Unseen Truths

The rain had started lightly, drumming against the roof of Ellie’s house as she sat at the kitchen table, Cookie curled under the table beside her chair. She was trying to organize her notes about the high school attack, the injuries, and the strange circumstances surrounding it—but her thoughts kept circling back to Derek Hale.

She had seen him during the chaos, running through the fog outside the school. There had been no way she could intervene, and now the police considered him the attacker. The idea made no sense to her—but he had vanished, like he’d never been there.

A sudden knock on the back door made her startle. Cookie growled, low and warning.

Ellie opened the door cautiously—and froze. Derek stood there, drenched from the rain, eyes sharp and intense. He didn’t step inside, but he looked at her like he needed her to understand something.

“Ellie,” he said quietly. “I need your help. And you need to know the truth.”

Her heart raced. “Derek… what are you doing here? The police—”

“They think I’m the one who attacked the school,” he interrupted, his voice tight. “They’re wrong. I need you to understand what really happened.”

He stepped just under the porch roof, rain dripping off his hair. Ellie backed up slightly, instinctively protective of Cookie, who growled but stayed low. Derek’s presence was commanding, yet cautious—as though he was aware of how fragile this trust could be.

“Explain,” she said, keeping her voice steady despite her nerves.

Derek inhaled sharply. “I’m not… human, Ellie. At least… not completely. What happened at the school—the attacks—it wasn’t random, and I didn’t do it. There are creatures, dangerous ones, moving through Beacon Hills. I’m trying to stop them. Protect people.”

Ellie blinked, confused. “Creatures? What do you mean—like… animals?”

“No,” Derek said, his tone careful, measured. “Like me. People who can change… into wolves. Stronger, faster, sharper senses than normal humans. It’s dangerous. They can’t always control it. The attacks at the school—they were a test. Someone is learning, testing their strength… and I was there to stop it, but I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

Ellie shook her head, disbelief written across her face. “You’re saying… you’re a werewolf?”

Derek’s jaw tightened. “Yes. And there’s an Alpha—strong, dangerous, and I don’t know who it is yet. I came here because I need someone I trust to help me. I need you, Ellie. You have skills I don’t. You notice things I don’t. You understand patterns. I can’t do this alone.”

Ellie hesitated, trying to process everything. Her mind ran through medical training, observations from the hospital, logical reasoning—but nothing could have prepared her for this.

“You want me to… what? Help you track werewolves?” she asked, voice low, almost incredulous.

“Yes,” Derek said bluntly. “But carefully. You have to keep this secret. The police already think I’m guilty. If anyone else knows, it’ll be worse for me—and for you.”

Ellie’s pulse quickened. She swallowed hard. “And… how am I supposed to help? I don’t even know where to start.”

“You observe,” Derek said. “Patterns, disturbances, anything that seems… off. People get hurt when you ignore the signs. You’ve been noticing them already without realizing it—broken branches, footprints, timing, behavior. You just need to put it all together. And I’ll guide you.”

Ellie stared at him, trying to reconcile the calm intelligence in his eyes with the danger he implied. “And… you trust me?”

Derek’s gaze softened just slightly, though it remained guarded. “I have to. You notice things no one else does. You think logically. You’ll keep people safe when I can’t be present. That’s why I came here.”

Ellie exhaled, feeling a mix of fear and determination. “Okay,” she said finally. “I don’t fully understand… but I’ll help. I’ll try.”

Derek nodded. “That’s all I ask. I’ll explain what you need to know—just enough to keep yourself and others safe. And I need you to pay attention to the details. Nothing is random. Nothing is coincidental. Watch the environment. Notice the patterns. Trust your instincts.”

Ellie glanced at Cookie, who had relaxed slightly, then back at Derek. “Alright… where do we start?”

He stepped a little closer under the porch, lowering his voice. “Start with what you know about the attacks so far. The timing, the locations, the injuries. I’ll fill in the pieces you can’t see. And… Ellie,” he added, softer this time, “don’t tell anyone about me. Not the police. Not your coworkers. Not Scott or Stiles. Not yet. It has to stay hidden.”

Ellie nodded, her chest tightening. “I won’t.”

Derek studied her for a long moment, then finally straightened, as if the tension in his body eased slightly. “Good. Then we start tomorrow. You observe, I’ll explain what to look for, and we’ll try to keep people safe without drawing attention. Understood?”

“Yes,” Ellie said, feeling a strange mixture of fear and adrenaline. “I understand.”

He glanced toward the darkness of the trees. “I can’t stay long. If anyone sees me…” His jaw tightened. “We don’t want that to happen.”

Ellie nodded. “I know.”

Without another word, Derek turned, slipping silently into the shadows, leaving only the faint imprint of his presence in the mud and the bent branches behind him. Ellie remained on the porch for a long moment, taking deep breaths, trying to absorb the reality she had just been told.

Werewolves. An Alpha. Dangerous attacks. And I’m in the middle of it.

Cookie nudged her hand, bringing her back to focus. Ellie exhaled again, a determined glint in her eyes. She would do this. She didn’t yet understand it fully—but she trusted him. And right now, that trust was the only thing standing between her and the chaos unfolding in Beacon Hills.

✨ End of Chapter 13

Chapter Text

Chapter 14 – Patterns in the Shadows

The morning after Derek’s visit, Beacon Hills seemed deceptively normal. The sun rose over the trees, illuminating puddles from last night’s rain, but the tension in the town hadn’t lifted. The high school attack was still the main topic of conversation. Students whispered in hallways, teachers spoke in hushed tones, and the sheriff’s department continued its investigation, none the wiser about the supernatural forces at play.

Ellie sat at her kitchen table, Cookie curled at her feet, laptop open, and notebook in hand. Derek’s words echoed in her mind: watch the patterns, notice anomalies, trust your instincts. She had no idea how much her life had changed in just twenty-four hours, but she was determined to apply what she had learned.

Her first step was simple: revisit the attacks. She compiled a list of locations, times, and the nature of injuries from the hospital reports she had access to. She drew lines connecting sites, highlighted trends, and noted environmental factors: weather, time of day, even the moon’s phase.

It was meticulous work, the kind she had always excelled at. But now it carried a weight: lives depended on her insight.

By late morning, Scott texted her: We’re at the preserve. Something’s off. Can you come?

Ellie grabbed her jacket, keeping Cookie on a short leash. The preserve was eerily quiet when she arrived, the mist still lingering in low patches along the trails. Scott met her near the entrance, anxiety written all over his face.

“Ellie,” he said quickly. “Something happened last night. Stiles found strange tracks… bigger than human. They’re not like anything I’ve seen.”

Ellie knelt beside the mud, examining the prints. They were elongated, deep, and unevenly spaced—indicating rapid movement. Her mind raced, comparing this to the attack patterns Derek had described.

“They’re learning,” she murmured. “Just like Derek said. Whoever this is… they’re testing. Trying to gauge reactions. Look here—the spacing between footprints shows bursts of speed, sudden stops. They’re observing humans in the area, seeing how we respond.”

Scott frowned. “So… what does that mean?”

“It means we’re still in the testing phase,” Ellie explained, pointing at clusters of footprints and disturbed undergrowth. “They’re not yet fully aggressive—they want to map our responses, understand the terrain. If we anticipate the next move, we can keep people safe.”

Scott’s eyes lit up. “So you’re saying we can predict where they’ll strike next?”

“Yes,” Ellie said. “But carefully. Patterns matter more than intuition alone. And…” Her voice dropped, almost to herself. “There’s someone else influencing the environment tonight. Someone I can’t see directly, but their presence is here.”

Scott glanced at her curiously. “Who?”

Ellie shook her head. “I don’t know… yet. But I can read the signs. Subtle changes in the ground, displaced leaves, small disturbances in the trees. Whoever is here is guiding movement, steering the flow, keeping people safe without being seen.”

She didn’t mention Derek by name; it wasn’t necessary. But the awareness of him nearby, invisible yet present, filled her with both focus and tension.

Throughout the day, Ellie observed and recorded. She moved through the preserve, checking paths, noting irregularities, and marking areas of potential risk. She started to notice small but consistent patterns:

• Branches broken at certain angles.
  
  
• Disturbed leaves forming linear paths.
  
  
• Footprints that started abruptly, suggesting bursts of speed.
  
  

Each anomaly told a story. Each subtle deviation was a signal that someone—or something—was navigating the area with intelligence and purpose.

By evening, she had filled several pages in her notebook, charting the patterns and creating a preliminary map of likely activity zones. She could see where humans might wander unknowingly into danger and where the “shadow” guiding them seemed to intervene.

Scott texted again as dusk approached: We’re near the old quarry. Tracks lead that way. Can you meet us?

Ellie grabbed her flashlight and followed, Cookie alert at her side. When she arrived, Scott and Stiles were already examining tracks near the quarry’s edge. Ellie crouched, her eyes scanning the mud, leaves, and surrounding underbrush.

“These prints,” she said softly, “they’re directional. Look here—the breaks in the branches, the pressure in the mud. Whoever made this is moving carefully, influencing paths.”

Stiles squinted. “Influencing paths? You mean… like they’re guiding people?”

“Yes,” Ellie said. “Indirectly. They’re keeping humans out of harm’s way, while still observing. And these bursts of speed—they’re testing reactions. Not attacking yet, just assessing. This is the same behavior Derek described.”

Scott’s jaw tightened. “So Derek was right… there’s someone else out there, watching and protecting at the same time.”

Ellie nodded. “Exactly. And if we follow the flow, anticipate the next strike, we can minimize risk. People need safe paths tonight.”

As night deepened, the three of them moved carefully along the quarry’s perimeter, Ellie guiding Scott and Stiles with observations and predictions. Every step she suggested, every subtle cue she noticed, helped the teens avoid danger and minimize exposure.

At one point, she froze, noticing a faint flash of movement through the fog—a shadow that didn’t belong to any human. Cookie growled, low in her throat.

Ellie crouched, whispering, “They’re here. And someone else is guiding movement from the shadows. Watch the subtle cues—broken branches, bent leaves, footprints—and follow them.”

Scott and Stiles exchanged a look but trusted her, following along carefully. Ellie led them through the safest route, past areas of potential attack. Every small movement was deliberate, guided by observation and pattern recognition.

By the time the group returned safely to the preserve entrance, Ellie had compiled a detailed account of the night’s activity: attack paths, environmental anomalies, and indirect interventions. She noted the subtle guidance in her journal—careful enough that no one could identify the person or creature involved, but detailed enough for her to anticipate future patterns.

Scott glanced at her. “Ellie… you just… you just saved people tonight. You were incredible.”

Ellie smiled faintly, feeling both exhaustion and satisfaction. “It wasn’t just me. I noticed the flow… and followed it. Patterns don’t lie. And the shadow—whoever it is—was keeping people safe.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “You mean Derek?”

Ellie shook her head, faintly, careful not to confirm too much. “I just see what’s happening. That’s all. For now, that’s enough.”

Later, as Ellie returned home, she spread her notes across the kitchen table and reviewed them carefully. Cookie rested at her feet, ears flicking at the soft sounds of the night.

Patterns were forming. Behavior was predictable if you knew how to observe. And a silent, unseen presence was guiding events from the shadows—protecting, influencing, and keeping people safe.

Ellie leaned back, exhaling deeply. Beacon Hills was dangerous, unpredictable, and escalating—but for the first time, she felt like she was part of the response. Not fully in the inner circle, not fully aware of the supernatural, but able to act, anticipate, and protect.

And somewhere in the shadows, Derek Hale was watching, guiding, and trusting her to read the signs.

✨ End of Chapter 14

Chapter Text

Chapter 15 – Warnings from the Shadows

The next morning, Ellie found a small envelope slipped under her front door. It was unmarked except for her name written in precise, unfamiliar handwriting.

She hesitated before opening it. Inside was a folded piece of paper:

Be careful. Not everyone in Beacon Hills is who they seem. Stay away from the Argents. Watch the patterns, trust your instincts, and do not approach anyone about this. –

No signature. No explanation. Just a warning.

Cookie nudged her hand as if sensing the urgency. Ellie’s mind raced. The Argents were familiar names—Melissa McCall had mentioned them once at the hospital—but she had never met them personally. Why would anyone warn her about them? And why like this?

Throughout the day, Ellie scanned the hospital reports, school incident logs, and previous attack sites. The patterns she had been tracking were becoming more evident:

• The attacks were moving closer to populated areas.
  
  
• Timing was shifting—more unpredictable.
  
  
• There were subtle signs of testing and learning by whoever was behind it.
  
  

Every detail seemed critical. Every pattern mattered. And now, with the mysterious warning, Ellie’s instincts sharpened further.

That evening, another note appeared on her doorstep. This one was simpler:

Tomorrow night. Stay alert. Creek and quarry. Watch the movement of people and the environment. You’ll know what to do. –

Ellie studied it carefully. Whoever left these notes clearly knew more than she did—and more than the police or anyone at the high school suspected. She began planning her evening: mapping safe paths, checking the creek and quarry areas for anomalies, and keeping Cookie nearby.

By dusk, the preserve was shrouded in fog. Ellie arrived at the creek, flashlight in hand, notebook tucked under her arm. She moved carefully, observing every subtle displacement of mud, broken twig, or bent leaf.

Patterns were emerging again—the Alpha was escalating. But she also noticed something else: subtle environmental cues that weren’t part of the Alpha’s activity. Someone had been there, careful, guiding movement without being seen.

Ellie pulled the note from her pocket, reading it again. Derek—though she didn’t know the name—was directing her, warning her, keeping her safe through written words. She followed the faint markers in the environment, moving slowly but deliberately.

Footsteps echoed softly behind her, and Ellie froze. Her heart raced. She wasn’t alone.

A voice called softly from the shadows. “Ellie.”

She spun, flashlight sweeping the area—but the fog hid the speaker. A figure stepped forward, just barely visible. No introduction. No explanation. Just presence.

She recognized the pattern: the subtle environmental cues were his. The silent guidance she had been reading in the notes was now in real time.

“You need to stay alert,” the figure said quietly. “Tonight is different. There are others coming—Argents included. Avoid them. Trust the patterns. They will tell you where to go.”

Ellie’s chest tightened. “You… you know them?”

The figure shook his head, eyes intense but careful. “Enough. Don’t engage. Protect yourself. Protect others. Read the flow. You’ll know when to act.”

Then, just as silently, he vanished into the shadows.

Ellie exhaled, heart pounding, notebook clutched tight. She scanned the creek, the quarry, and the surrounding trails. Broken branches, faint depressions, displaced leaves—they all formed a subtle lattice of signs. Following them, she traced safe paths, guiding herself around potential danger zones.

She realized how much she relied on these notes and cues. Derek—or whoever this silent guide was—was keeping her steps deliberate and precise. Every subtle hint in the environment, every careful instruction, allowed her to anticipate risk and avoid it.

By the time she returned home, Ellie had sketched a detailed map of the evening’s patterns, noting where danger was likely to strike next. The fog had lifted, but her vigilance had not.

As she sat at the kitchen table, Cookie curled at her feet, Ellie read the notes one final time.

Watch the movement of people and the environment. You’ll know what to do.

Her pulse steadied. Beacon Hills was growing more dangerous. The Alpha was becoming bolder, more aggressive. And now, there were new players she didn’t understand—the Argents.

But she had the notes, the patterns, and her instincts. And through it all, a silent presence guided her from the shadows, keeping her safe while preparing her for what was coming.

Tomorrow night, she knew, would be critical.

✨ End of Chapter 15

Chapter Text

Chapter 16 – Wolf’s Bane

The night was thick with fog, rolling low over Beacon Hills like a living veil. Ellie walked the trails near the preserve, notebook in hand, flashlight cutting narrow beams through the mist. Cookie padded silently beside her, ears alert to the smallest rustle.

A note had been left on her doorstep earlier that day, slipped under the mat in the same precise handwriting she had learned to recognize:

Tonight. Creek and quarry. Patterns shifting. Observe, anticipate, avoid. –

Ellie folded it carefully into her pocket. She knew what to expect: subtle disturbances, bursts of movement, testing behaviors. She didn’t fully understand the Alpha’s nature yet, but she had learned to read the signs and predict its patterns.

Arriving near the creek, she crouched to examine the mud and undergrowth. Footprints from previous nights were still visible—elongated, unevenly spaced, showing bursts of speed. She noted the directionality in her notebook, connecting them with the prior attacks Derek had guided her through.

The environment told the story: bent branches, scattered leaves, and faint depressions in the dirt. Someone else had been here recently—Derek. The subtle shifts weren’t aggressive; they were guiding her, keeping her path safe while remaining invisible.

Ellie’s pulse quickened. She followed the faint cues, carefully moving along the safest route through the preserve, avoiding areas where the Alpha had likely tested humans in previous nights.

The fog thickened near the quarry. Ellie paused, studying the terrain. She recognized the behavioral patterns of the Alpha: testing boundaries, observing reactions, but not yet attacking. Every footprint, every displaced rock, every broken branch told her what it wanted, where it had been, and where it might go next.

She mapped it all in her notebook. The more she observed, the clearer the patterns became. She could anticipate its movements, charting safe paths through the preserve. Derek’s influence was present but subtle—small deviations in the undergrowth, faint scuffs along natural trails—enough to steer her without being noticed.

A faint rustle behind her made Ellie pause. Cookie growled softly, low in her throat. She spun the flashlight beam toward the noise but saw nothing. Then, just at the corner of her vision, a shadow moved along the treeline. She froze, recognizing the signs: bent branches, disturbed leaves, a faint trail in the mud. Derek was near, invisible but guiding.

Ellie followed the cues carefully, her notebook now a roadmap of safe zones, potential danger, and subtle guidance. She didn’t need to see him directly; she just needed to trust the patterns.

Minutes passed. The fog thickened further, the moonlight filtered weakly through the trees. Ellie observed the Alpha’s indirect signs: the spread of footprints, the subtle disturbances in the undergrowth, and the movements that indicated testing behavior.

She noted each detail meticulously. The Alpha was escalating its presence, moving closer to human activity, probing reactions—but so far, it had not attacked anyone. That meant her analysis could continue without intervention. She felt a strange satisfaction in being able to anticipate the behavior and avoid danger without anyone else knowing the stakes.

A sudden, sharper shift in the undergrowth caught her attention. The footprints veered slightly, faster, showing bursts of speed. The Alpha was testing the boundaries of its territory again. Ellie adjusted her route according to the subtle cues Derek had left: bent twigs pointing to safer paths, faint scuffs on the rocks indicating direction, broken leaves marking the safest passage.

Following the environmental markers, Ellie moved carefully through the fog, her notebook now filled with detailed charts of movement, footprints, and potential zones of activity. She began to see the Alpha’s patterns in real time: the rhythm of its movements, the spacing of its testing, and the subtle signs of intelligence in its behavior.

Hours passed. Ellie remained hidden, observing quietly, taking careful notes. Derek’s silent guidance was a constant, reassuring presence, showing her where to walk, when to pause, and which areas to avoid entirely.

By the time she returned home near dawn, the fog had begun to lift. The preserve seemed calm again, but Ellie knew the danger remained. The Alpha’s behavior had escalated, the patterns had shifted, and the town remained unaware of the supernatural threats lurking nearby.

She spread her notebook across the kitchen table, reviewing her observations. The Alpha’s movements, environmental disturbances, and Derek’s subtle guidance formed a clear lattice of information. She could now predict potential shifts in behavior, anticipate testing zones, and remain safe—all without exposing herself or Derek to danger.

Cookie rested at her feet as Ellie leaned back, exhausted but focused. She had survived the night, maintained her distance, and learned to read the patterns more accurately than before. The slow-burn trust and tension with Derek had deepened—not through words, but through silent guidance, careful observation, and an unspoken understanding.

Ellie knew the Alpha would strike again. Its intelligence and aggression were increasing. And Beacon Hills, with its unaware residents and escalating supernatural threats, would soon face greater danger.

But she was ready. With notes, observations, and her instincts, she could navigate the fog, follow the patterns, and stay one step ahead.

The war in the shadows was only beginning—and Ellie had become part of it.

✨ End of Chapter 16

Chapter Text

Chapter 17 – Alpha’s Reveal

The hospital was unusually quiet that night, the kind of silence that made every creak and hum stand out. Ellie had been reviewing patient charts, making notes in her notebook, when her phone vibrated with a message from Scott: Something’s happening at the hospital. Be careful.

She barely had time to process it when she saw Stiles slip through the emergency doors, moving quickly and nervously toward Peter Hale’s room. Ellie followed cautiously, keeping to the shadows, notebook in hand.

Inside Peter’s room, Stiles moved carefully, checking the bed, the drawers, and the surroundings. “He’s gone… he’s not in his room,” Stiles muttered under his breath, frustration and worry etched on his face.

Ellie stayed near the doorway, observing silently. She had learned enough to sense the tension in the air—the subtle shifts of danger, the anticipation in every movement.

Suddenly, Stiles’ phone buzzed. He pressed it to his ear. Derek’s voice came through, tense and urgent.

Derek: “Stiles, what do you mean he’s not in his room?”

Stiles: “I checked—he’s gone! I don’t know where he is!”

Derek: voice tight, realization dawning “Wait… wait. Not in his room? Then… Stiles, listen to me. Get out of there, now.”

Stiles: “Why? What’s happening?”

Derek: grimly “Because I just realized who the Alpha is.”

Stiles: shocked “Who?”

Derek: “Peter Hale.”

Ellie’s breath caught. Peter Hale—the man she had only seen quietly at the hospital before—was the Alpha. Her notebook instinctively opened, her pen ready to track the subtle environmental cues Derek might leave for her to follow safely.

Before Stiles could respond further, the door swung open and Peter appeared, stepping out of the shadows. His presence was commanding, dangerous, and utterly cold.

Derek appeared almost instantly, positioning himself between Peter and Stiles. “Stay back,” Derek growled, his body taut and defensive.

Ellie froze near the doorway, recognizing the danger. Every subtle shift—Peter’s stance, Derek’s blocking position, the small distance between them—spoke volumes. She stayed back, silent, letting Derek handle the fight while she observed.

Peter moved first, fast and precise, lunging at Derek with a force that sent him skidding back several feet. Derek responded instantly, blocking and redirecting Peter’s attacks with controlled, calculated movements. The clang of impact echoed through the empty hospital hall.

Ellie noted every movement, every shift in energy: Peter’s attacks were aggressive but predictable in rhythm; Derek’s defense was fluid and strategic, always keeping Stiles and Ellie out of harm’s way.

Peter struck again, sweeping at Derek’s legs to unbalance him. Derek leapt back, rolling aside and countering with a quick, controlled push that forced Peter to stumble. Sparks of metal from a nearby equipment cart skidded across the floor. Ellie instinctively stepped to the side, staying safe but continuing to record details in her mind.

“Derek!” Stiles shouted from behind, frozen in terror.

“Stay down!” Derek barked, spinning to intercept another strike. Peter’s movements were fast, a blur of calculated aggression, but Derek anticipated each one, using the environment to his advantage, blocking doorways and corners, keeping both Stiles and Ellie behind him.

The fight moved down the corridor, Derek forcing Peter away from the patient rooms and toward the open service area. Each strike, each block, each step told Ellie exactly how skilled Derek was—and how dangerous Peter had become. She observed the patterns: Peter’s feints, the timing of his lunges, and Derek’s predictive defense.

Finally, Derek created a brief opening and shoved Peter against a wall, forcing him back. Peter’s eyes gleamed with frustration and a flicker of admiration. Without a word, he retreated into the shadows, disappearing as silently as he had appeared.

Derek lowered slightly, chest heaving, and gave Ellie a brief nod. “You’re safe.”

Ellie exhaled slowly, tension leaving her body. She had watched, analyzed, and understood the fight, without needing to intervene physically. Her observations, patterns, and careful anticipation had allowed her to stay out of harm’s way while Derek protected both Stiles and herself.

As she stepped back toward the hallway, Ellie realized something crucial: Peter Hale wasn’t just a threat to Derek and the pack—he was calculating, cunning, and escalating. Beacon Hills had become more dangerous overnight, and Ellie understood that staying observant, anticipating movements, and trusting Derek’s protective skills would be essential for survival.

✨ End of Chapter 17

Chapter Text

Chapter 18 – The Date

Ellie tugged gently at Cookie’s leash as they walked up the familiar path to the McCall house. Melissa had invited her over before her date—half to show Ellie her outfit and half for company while she finished getting ready. Ellie hadn’t thought much of it until she remembered Melissa mentioning the man’s name: Peter Hale.

That name alone had been enough to leave Ellie uneasy. She told herself it was probably just instinct—the feeling she always got when patients seemed a little too charming, too good at hiding what was underneath.

Scott opened the door before she could knock. He looked tired, distracted, as if he had been holding his breath all day. Cookie wagged her tail at him, leaning against his legs until he reached down to scratch behind her ears.

“Hey, Ellie,” Scott said. His voice was tight, polite, but his eyes were somewhere else entirely.

“Melissa around?” Ellie asked gently.

“In her room, still getting ready,” Scott answered, stepping aside so Ellie and Cookie could come in.

Inside, the McCall home was its usual warm, slightly cluttered self. Cookie immediately flopped down on the rug, content. From down the hall, Melissa’s voice floated toward them:

“Scott! Can you grab my necklace? The one on the dresser?”

Scott rolled his eyes but headed down the hallway. “Coming, Mom.”

Ellie smiled faintly, setting her bag down by the couch. She thought about calling something encouraging back, but before she could, a sharp knock came at the door.

Cookie’s ears perked up, a low whine leaving her throat. Ellie frowned slightly, moving toward the door. Scott beat her there, yanking it open.

Standing on the porch was Peter Hale.

He was dressed neatly, his smile practiced and polite, but Ellie felt the shift in the air instantly—something cold threaded beneath the warmth of his expression.

“Good evening,” Peter said smoothly. His eyes flicked past Scott, briefly taking in Ellie before returning to the boy at the door. “You must be Scott.”

Scott stiffened, his knuckles tightening around the doorframe. “Yeah,” he said, guarded.

Peter’s smile didn’t falter. “I’m Peter Hale. I believe your mother mentioned me?”

Ellie felt her stomach twist, but she stayed quiet. This was Melissa’s evening, Melissa’s choice. She had no way of warning her without sounding completely irrational—and she refused to embarrass her friend in her own home.

Behind them, Melissa appeared in the hallway, adjusting the necklace Scott had reluctantly helped her with. She looked radiant—confident, smiling brightly at Peter as if he were simply a nice man picking her up for dinner.

“Peter! You’re early,” Melissa said, stepping forward.

“Just eager,” Peter replied, charm dripping from every word.

Ellie bent down, clipping Cookie’s leash again, grounding herself in the familiar weight of it. She offered Melissa a small smile. “You look beautiful. Have a good time.”

Melissa grinned, clearly touched. “Thanks, Ellie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Peter extended his arm, and Melissa took it without hesitation. The two of them left together, Peter holding the door for her with old-fashioned courtesy.

Scott stood frozen in the entryway, his jaw tight, his eyes never leaving Peter’s back as he guided Melissa to his car.

Ellie gently squeezed his shoulder on her way out, Cookie at her side. “I’ll walk with you, Scott,” she said softly.

Scott didn’t answer, but his silence said enough. Together, they stood on the porch, watching Melissa and Peter disappear into the night.

And Ellie, though she said nothing, couldn’t shake the feeling that Melissa had just walked into something far more dangerous than a simple date.

✨ End of Chapter 18

Chapter Text

Chapter 19 – The Winter Formal

Ellie hated driving near the high school on nights like this. The parking lot overflowed with cars, headlights flashing across the street as parents dropped kids off in tuxedos and gowns. Cookie leaned against the window in the passenger seat, letting out a low whine as teenagers shrieked with laughter outside.

“It’s okay, girl,” Ellie murmured, rubbing her head. “Just the Winter Formal. Human chaos, nothing more.”

Still, her stomach turned uneasily. Nothing in Beacon Hills felt “just human” anymore.

She parked across the street from the school. Melissa had asked her for a favor earlier — “Can you swing by? If something happens with Scott, I don’t want him out there alone.” The words had been casual, but Ellie had heard the undercurrent. Melissa was worried. Melissa always worried.

Ellie slipped out of the car and crossed the street, Cookie at her side. She didn’t intend to go inside — the dance was for students, and she’d stick out like a sore thumb — but she could at least wait nearby.

From the gymnasium windows, colored lights pulsed to the beat of muffled music. Laughter and chatter spilled into the night whenever the doors opened. Students drifted in, couples awkward in rented suits and glittering dresses. For a moment, Ellie felt something almost normal in the air.

Almost.

She leaned against the brick wall by the side entrance, Cookie curled obediently at her feet, when the door swung open and Scott McCall slipped outside. He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t glowing with excitement like the other students. His expression was taut, sharp — the kind of face Ellie had only seen on men much older, men carrying impossible burdens.

“Scott,” Ellie called softly.

He flinched before recognizing her. “Ellie? What are you doing here?”

“Melissa asked me to stop by. Just in case.” Her eyes softened. “Are you okay?”

Scott’s jaw flexed. “Yeah. I mean, no. It’s… complicated.”

Ellie gave a small smile. “It usually is.”

He looked down at Cookie, who wagged her tail, sensing his unease. Scott crouched briefly to rub her head, but his eyes kept darting toward the shadows beyond the parking lot. He was waiting for something — or someone.

Ellie decided not to press. She wasn’t his mother, wasn’t his best friend, wasn’t his girlfriend. She was just someone on the sidelines, someone Melissa trusted to keep an eye out. That, in itself, was enough.

“Just be careful, Scott,” she said finally.

He nodded once, determination hardening his features, before slipping back inside.

Ellie lingered outside, unease prickling at the back of her neck. She didn’t know why the Winter Formal felt so heavy, so electric, but she couldn’t shake the sense that tonight would end in anything but laughter and music.

And when the distant sound of glass shattering cut through the music a little later, Cookie’s sharp bark splitting the night, Ellie knew her instincts had been right all along.

✨ End of Chapter 19

Chapter Text

Chapter 20 – Shadows on the Field

Ellie had no business lingering outside the school that night. She knew it, told herself a dozen times to just go home, but she stayed anyway. Melissa’s quiet request still echoed in her ears: Just… check in. Make sure Scott’s okay.

So she waited near the gymnasium side doors, Cookie pressed loyally against her leg. The music inside was loud, laughter and shouting spilling into the night every time the doors swung open. For a moment, Ellie let herself believe it was just another high school dance — kids in awkward tuxes and glittering dresses, the smell of hairspray and cheap perfume drifting out into the crisp air.

Then the door slammed again, and Lydia Martin came rushing out.

She was stunning in her pale dress, her curls bouncing as she scanned the parking lot, breath quick and uneven. She looked… frantic.

Ellie straightened automatically. “Lydia? Are you okay?”

The girl barely glanced her way, too intent on the shadows. “Have you seen Jackson?” she asked breathlessly.

Ellie blinked. “Jackson Whittemore? Not tonight.”

Lydia pressed her lips together, clearly fighting panic. She muttered something — maybe a thank you, maybe just Jackson’s name again — before taking off, heels clicking across the pavement.

“Lydia, wait—” Ellie started, but the girl was already gone, moving fast toward the dark stretch of the lacrosse field.

Cookie whined low, tugging at her leash, ears straining toward the same direction.

Ellie’s stomach dropped.

The field was deserted, the floodlights dimmed for the night. The music from the gym was muffled now, the laughter far away, replaced by the sound of Lydia’s quick steps across the grass.

Ellie followed at a distance, heart hammering, torn between staying back and stepping in.

“Jackson?” Lydia’s voice rang out, thin and desperate. “Jackson, where are you?”

The silence that answered was thick, wrong.

Then — movement.

From the far side of the field, a figure emerged, stepping into the half-light. Peter Hale.

Ellie froze where she was, breath catching hard in her throat. Cookie growled, a sound too deep for her size, straining at the leash.

Lydia slowed, confusion overtaking her face. “Who are you—?”

She didn’t get the chance to finish.

Peter’s hand flashed out, too fast, too sharp. Lydia screamed, stumbling back, but he was on her in an instant. The sound of her cry tore across the empty field before cutting off as his teeth sank into her shoulder.

Ellie’s knees nearly gave beneath her. She clamped both hands on Cookie’s collar, holding her back with everything she had, bile rising in her throat as the reality of what she was seeing slammed into her.

The Alpha. The killings. Derek’s warnings. Scott’s fear.

Peter Hale.

And Lydia Martin, bright and brilliant and so young, collapsing beneath him.

Ellie pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, fighting the urge to scream. She couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t even move. All she could do was bear witness as Beacon Hills shifted again into something darker, sharper, more terrifying than before.

✨ End of Chapter 20

Chapter Text

Chapter 21 – Into the Cellar

Ellie hadn’t been able to shake the sound of Lydia’s scream. It rattled around in her chest as she hurried away from the high school, Cookie pulling anxiously at her leash.

She’d just reached her car when Scott came running across the lot, tux tie hanging loose, his face pale and frantic.

“Ellie—wait!”

She froze, startled by the raw edge in his voice.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said quickly, glancing over his shoulder like he expected someone to be following. “It’s not safe. Peter—he’s out here.”

Ellie’s stomach turned cold. “Peter Hale? Scott, what’s happening? I heard—”

“Not now,” he cut her off, his voice sharper than usual. “I’ll explain later, I promise, but right now I need your help. We haven’t seen Derek in days. No one’s heard from him. I think… I think Kate Argent has him.”

The name dropped between them like a stone. Melissa had mentioned the Argents before, always with a note of tension. Ellie had dismissed it as small-town grudges — but Melissa’s instincts rarely missed the mark.

Scott’s jaw clenched. “He’s still alive. I know it. But I need to find him. If Peter gets to him first…” His voice trailed off, but the meaning was clear.

Ellie tightened her grip on Cookie’s leash. She wanted to demand answers, but the urgency in Scott’s eyes stopped her. Whatever was happening, he believed it down to his bones. And for reasons she couldn’t quite name, Ellie trusted that.

“Okay,” she said softly. “Show me.”

The Hale house loomed out of the dark like a scar — burned timbers, broken windows, the air thick with memory. Cookie pressed against Ellie’s leg, ears flat.

Scott stood in the yard, breathing hard. “Derek would answer me if he could. Wolves always come when another wolf howls.”

Ellie blinked. “What?”

Scott didn’t wait for a response. He tilted his head back — and the sound that ripped from his throat wasn’t human.

It was long, raw, a howl that vibrated in Ellie’s bones, raising every hair on her body. Cookie whined, pressing low to the ground.

Ellie stared at Scott, heart pounding. She didn’t understand — not fully — but she knew. She’d seen enough fragments, enough shadows. The truth was pressing in around her whether she was ready or not.

They waited.

At first, there was only silence. Then — faint, muffled, beneath the earth — a hoarse, answering cry.

Scott’s eyes widened. “He’s here.”

He ran toward the ruined porch, yanking at the warped boards until a hatch gave way, revealing stairs that led down into the earth. A rush of damp, moldy air hit them.

Ellie swallowed hard, forcing herself to follow.

The cellar was a pit of rot and mildew, the concrete floor slick. Chains rattled faintly before Ellie even saw him.

Derek Hale.

He was slumped against the wall, wrists bound with heavy iron, his face pale beneath layers of grime and blood. His eyes cracked open at the sound of their footsteps, but there was no strength behind them.

“Derek,” Scott breathed, rushing forward.

Ellie’s knees hit the damp floor as she dropped beside him. Her training took over — checking his pulse, shallow but steady, scanning the bruises along his ribs, the raw marks where the chains had rubbed him raw.

“He’s alive,” she said quickly, more for herself than Scott. “Weak, dehydrated, but alive.”

Derek let out a low, rasping sound that might’ve been a laugh. “About time…”

Scott worked at the chains with trembling hands, frustration mounting when they wouldn’t budge.

Ellie looked around for a moment before turning back to Derek, meeting his half-lidded gaze. He looked at her like he knew she’d end up here, like none of this surprised him.

Her pulse hammered in her ears.

This wasn’t just shadows anymore. This was real.

✨ End of Chapter 21

Chapter Text

Chapter 22 – Showdown (Part 1)

Scott’s howl still rang in Ellie’s ears as she and Scott hauled Derek up the steps, his weight dragging heavy between them. The smell of damp earth and rust clung to her hands, to her clothes.

Derek was barely on his feet, wrists raw and bloody from the chains, but his eyes burned with stubborn fire. “Should’ve left me,” he muttered.

“Not a chance,” Scott shot back, tightening his grip on Derek’s arm.

Ellie stayed close on Derek’s other side, trying to keep his balance steady. Her stomach churned at the thought of what had been done to him in the cellar. She knew injuries, but this — this was cruelty.

They’d barely cleared the ruined porch when headlights swept across the blackened yard.

A car door slammed. Then another.

Kate Argent’s voice cut the night like a knife. “Well, look what we have here.”

Ellie froze, instinctively pulling Cookie close to her side.

Kate strolled into view, gun in hand, her smile razor-sharp. Allison followed a step behind, bow drawn but her hands trembling. Her eyes darted between Scott and Derek, her face pale in the moonlight.

“Allison—” Scott started, but his voice cracked with urgency.

Kate raised her gun toward Derek’s chest, smirk widening. “You know, I’ve been waiting for this moment. Tying you up was fun, but killing you? That’ll be the real reward.”

Ellie’s pulse hammered. Every instinct told her to move, to throw herself between them, but she couldn’t. Not against this.

“Allison,” Kate coaxed, glancing at her niece, “go ahead. Take the shot.”

Allison’s bow shook. Her eyes shone with fear. “I… I can’t.”

Kate’s smile curdled into a sneer. “Pathetic.”

She steadied her gun.

“Kate.”

The voice was low, commanding.

Another set of headlights flared. Chris Argent stepped into the ruined yard, his face carved from stone. His gun was steady, but it was his voice that stopped everything cold.

“Put the gun down.”

Kate stiffened. “Chris—”

“I said put it down,” he snapped. His tone left no room for argument.

Ellie’s breath caught. Relief and fear tangled in her chest all at once.

Allison faltered, lowering her bow. Kate’s eyes narrowed, calculating, but even she knew better than to push. Slowly, with a flick of her wrist, she let her gun dip toward the ground.

Chris’ gaze stayed locked on her. “You’ve crossed a line.”

Before Kate could retort, another sound rose from inside the house — the door seemingly moving on its own.

“The Alpha”, Ellie heard someone say.

The night air was thick with tension. Red eyes glinting in the shadows. Before anyone could react, Peter struck.

Ellie barely had time to register what happened before she was hurled across the yard, landing right in front of the broken porch. Gravel and sticks bit into her arms and legs, and her head slammed against the hard ground. Pain bloomed behind her eyes — a concussion forming. Cookie leapt instantly, barking fiercely, circling her protectively.

Derek’s voice snapped through the haze. “Ellie!”

She blinked through the ringing in her ears. Derek crouched beside her, checking for injuries, hands gentle but urgent. “You okay?”

“I… yeah,” she whispered, pressing Cookie close. Her body throbbed, scratches from sticks and stones stinging, but nothing seemed life-threatening.

“Stay down,” Derek ordered, his eyes flicking toward the chaos unfolding around the Hale house ruins.

Peter roared, moving with supernatural speed, hurling Scott, Allison and Chris back into the yard. Dust and debris filled the air as the Alpha’s power radiated outward.

Then, with terrifying calm, Peter snarled, dragging Kate inside the partially ruined Hale house. The door slammed behind him.

Scott groaned, brushing himself off. Derek’s gaze swept the yard, scanning for immediate danger before he looked down at Ellie. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head weakly. “Scratches… some bruising. Concussion, maybe. But I’ll be okay.”

Cookie stayed pressed against her side, growling low at the closed door, ears pinned back but unyielding.

Derek nodded once. “Good. Stay here. Keep your head down.”

Ellie swallowed hard but stayed crouched, every sense alert. Allison ran into the house after them, followed by Scott and Derek.

Ellie pressed Cookie closer, her scratches stinging, her head throbbing, but her eyes never left the house. The Alpha had retreated inside with Kate — but the fight wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

And for the first time, Ellie realized just how dangerous Beacon Hills had become.

✨ End of Chapter 22

Chapter Text

Chapter 23 - Showdown (Part 2)

Ellie pressed herself low against the broken porch, Cookie’s body curled against her side, growling low and warning at every sudden noise. Her head throbbed from the fall, and scratches stung along her arms and legs, but adrenaline sharpened her senses. 

Inside the Hale house, chaos erupted. Derek, Scott, and Allison moved through the debris-strewn rooms, claws, fists, and arrows aimed at Peter. Every surface rattled with the impact of the fight — furniture splintered, glass shattered, dust and smoke swirling through the moonlit windows.

Peter moved with supernatural speed, striking with precision and ferocity. Derek countered, growling low, his claws raking against Peter’s defenses. Scott was agile, weaving around Peter’s attacks, trying to anticipate his next strike, while Allison fired arrows whenever she could, keeping both Derek and Scott from being overwhelmed.

Ellie winced as a beam cracked under a heavy strike, sending splinters skimming across the floor near her crouched position outside. Cookie barked sharply, pressing closer to Ellie, and she clutched the dog’s thick neck fur, grounding herself.

A muffled scream echoed from one of the inner rooms — Kate Argent had been dragged inside by Peter, her threat neutralized as she struggled against him. Ellie didn’t see exactly what happened, but the scream abruptly stopped. She could only imagine the outcome: Kate was gone.

Allison suddenly dashed outside to check on Chris Argent, who lay unconscious near the yard, blood trickling from a cut along his head. Her bow still drawn, she crouched beside him, checking his pulse before glancing back toward the house.

Derek’s voice cut through the chaos. “Scott, cover the back hallway!”

Scott nodded, leaping into position while Derek and Allison pressed forward. The fight surged back and forth, each second stretching impossibly long. The sounds of Peter’s snarls, Derek’s growls, and the crash of wood echoed through the ruins.

Finally, the battle spilled outside. Derek and Scott forced Peter through a shattered doorway, and the night air whipped across the yard. Ellie flinched as debris tumbled around her, pressing Cookie closer.

From the edge of the woods, headlights cut through the darkness. Stiles and Jackson arrived, carrying the chemical accelerant they had prepared. Their timing was impeccable. Ellie’s heart pounded as she watched them position themselves, ready to aid in the final phase of the battle. But thanks to his strength Peter was able to catch the bottle mid-air, looking at the boys with a smirk on his face.

Allison, standing near the yard, fired an arrow into the chemical. The bottle broke, the liquid spraying across the ground. Peter roared in frustration, furious and disoriented.

Ellie’s chest heaved as she watched Derek seize the moment, claws striking true. The Alpha struggled against them, but Derek’s experience and sheer determination dominated the fight.

Stiles, noticing Ellie crouched and shaken nearby, ran over quickly. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“I… yeah,” Ellie whispered, still dizzy from the fall and the concussion. Cookie pressed against her side, growling softly.

Inside the yard, the fight raged on a few tense seconds longer before Derek finally pinned Peter, delivering the decisive blow. The Alpha’s body went still, and Derek’s heavy breathing echoed in the yard.

Ellie let herself exhale, pressing Cookie closer, feeling the weight of the night lift slightly. She had seen the battle, survived it, and witnessed Derek finally put an end to Peter Hale.

The ruins were quiet, smoke rising faintly from the broken windows, the yard littered with debris. Chris still lay unconscious, but the immediate danger was over. Ellie’s scratches stung, her head throbbed, but she was alive — and she had survived the night that had redefined Beacon Hills forever.

Her vision began swimming again after Derek stood upright. “I’m the Alpha now”, ringing in her ears before the world turned black and her body gave out.

✨ End of Chapter 23

Chapter Text

Chapter 24 - Aftermath

Ellie’s world tilted into darkness, her body finally giving in to the concussion and exhaustion. Cookie whimpered, nudging her gently with her nose, until she groaned and shifted slightly, letting the dog rest against her.

Derek, standing amid the ruins, barely had a moment to breathe himself. He scanned the yard again — Chris unconscious, Stiles and Jackson catching their breaths, Allison kneeling near her bow — before his gaze flicked to Ellie, slumped on the ground.

Instinct sharpened, overriding his usual guardedness. He was the Alpha, and she was here, exposed, hurt, and vulnerable. Without thinking, he crossed the debris-strewn yard, careful not to step on the larger shards of wood and stone. Cookie growled softly at his approach, but relaxed when Derek crouched a safe distance away, hand hovering near his side rather than reaching out.

“Ellie,” he said quietly, low enough that only she and Cookie could hear. His voice was calm, measured, but it carried weight. No rush, no theatrics — just the subtle assertion of someone who wanted to protect.

Ellie’s eyes fluttered open, swimming in and out of focus. Her lips parted, trying to speak, but her throat was dry and her head spun.

“You’re alive,” Derek muttered, scanning her quickly for any serious injury beyond what he already knew. Scratches, bruising, concussion. Superficial, but still enough to make him tense.

Derek’s gaze lingered on her longer than he expected, his jaw tightening slightly. He wasn’t good at words — at showing emotion — but his presence, the way he stayed low to meet her, watching for any sign of distress, spoke volumes.

Ellie managed a weak smile, too exhausted for anything else. “I’m okay.”

Derek allowed himself a moment to exhale. His eyes swept the yard again — Chris still unconscious, Stiles checking on Ellie’s surroundings, Allison regaining her composure. Then he finally glanced at the house one last time. Peter Hale was gone, the threat ended. But the adrenaline, the tension, and the weight of responsibility still pressed down on him.

And in the quiet aftermath, standing over Ellie, Derek felt something he rarely acknowledged — relief. Relief that she had survived. Relief that she was still here, still alert, still herself despite everything.

Ellie’s eyelids drooped again, fatigue overtaking her once more. Derek shifted slightly, staying nearby, watching, protective, but careful not to crowd her. He didn’t say it aloud — he never would — but for the first time, he recognized how much he valued her presence, how much he wanted her to be safe in this dangerous world.

The night settled around them, broken only by the soft sounds of the yard — distant sirens, Chris groaning as he came to, and the gentle whine of Cookie at Ellie’s side. Finally he hooked his arm under her legs and back. Ignoring everyone around him he managed to scoop her up in his arm and grab Cookie's leash. Carrying Ellie toward the car she and Scott used to get there, carefully sitting her in the passenger seat and putting the Rottweiler in the backseat before driving towards her house. He lay her down in her bed before cleaning the wounds — Cookie the everlasting protector at her owner's feet before finally settling down next to her. She let out a soft, contented sigh, pressing against Ellie’s arm. Derek’s gaze softened almost imperceptibly. Alpha instincts entwined with something more subtle: a quiet, restrained care he would never voice.

Derek stayed, vigilant, aware, a silent sentinel.

Ellie drifted in and out of sleep, aware of his presence like a shield around her. She didn’t fully understand it yet, but she felt it. In a town that had redefined danger, in a night that had changed everything, one truth remained clear: Derek Hale was watching over her.

And for now, that was enough.

✨ End of Chapter 24 

✨ To be continued in Season 2