Beacon ⌲ Stiles Stilinski [1] EDITING

thirty two

Reading the time on my cellphone as 3:22 a.m., I tried to keep my hands steady while I checked my messages. I had received one text from Stiles telling me to call him immediately, followed by another one from an hour later that seemed very similar to what Allison got from Scott's cellphone: asking for the bestiary and informing me of Derek's presence at the Sheriff's station.

The roads were clear and completely cloaked in darkness except for a few sparse street lamps as I sat parked a block from the Sheriff's station. I sucked in my breath and held it for a few tedious seconds before puffing it out forcefully and beginning to dial Stiles' number.

After a faint hum and dial tone, a recording broke through the phone. "Hey you've reached Stiles, leave me a message if-"

Deflated, I hung up. If Stiles phone had been used to send me a message, I was worried what had made him turn it off. His first text had been urgent but vague, knowing my parents would have read whatever information he passed on immediately; leaving me to wonder if he had found Lydia, or if he believed Allison and I were still out looking.

I knew time was ticking by, and I was extremely paranoid that the Argent hunters could peel up from behind me at any moment as I tried to psych myself up to my next move. Admittedly, I didn't exactly have a thorough plan, but I had a sudden rush of courage and a bow at the ready which counted for something. At least I hoped it did.

3:25 a.m.

Taking a deep breath, I got out of my car and locked it behind me.

On my ride over I hadn't had another vision of bloodied officers or any of my friends meeting their end, so I considered that lucky. The whispers had been subdued and I was desperate for the suffering to truly be over for the night. However, knowing that Derek had been dragged to the station, Stiles had become unresponsive, and my family were on their way, I highly doubted the rest of the evening would be simple.

My palm grew sweaty around the grip of my long bow as I worried about what dangers lay ahead. If Jackson and his controller were waiting for us I would need to quit being so emotional and focus, so I tucked my bow beneath my arm in order to strap on my archery glove.

"I know what I'm doing," I whispered to myself as my boots crunched down on the pavement with every step. "I know what I'm doing and I'm doing what's right."

My cheeks were swollen and red from all of my tears, but they now flushed even brighter when I found myself embarrassed at my own words - glad that the street wasn't awake to hear them.

Picking up my pace, I made it to the building's parking lot and tried to stick to the shadows as I counted the number of cars that were sitting there: enough for the fallen deputies on their night shift, enough for Stiles and Scott, enough for Derek, and definitely enough for Jackson and whoever was controlling him. The station was quiet, but it was clear that it was a full house behind the thick walls.

Suddenly, my ears perked up at the sound of tires rolling in the distance. Within seconds I was pressed against the side of the wall out of sight with my jaw dropping slightly when three black SUVs curved into the lot. My heart thumped at how quickly they had managed to leave after me. Part of me wished I had parked closer - then I could've already been helping inside - but I was trying not to alert the homicidal puppet and puppeteer of my entrance.

Gerard was clearly not worried about that, focusing on killing Derek over everything else.

"I know what I'm doing," I whispered to myself again, less confident this time.

With the cover of darkness keeping me hidden, I watched in horror as Allison jumped out of the car first with her Chinese ring daggers looped around her fingers. Dad followed after with a machine gun, along with four other henchman. Gerard was last out of the vehicles, nothing in his hands except for his pill box. It occurred to me how extremely old he actually was behind his warrior facade as he coughed back another handful of medication.