As the lines between good and evil were blurred and new, unlikely alliances were formed, there were very few things keeping Carson Bradley sane. But sometimes, even sanity was not enough to win a war when there was already so much blood raining down...
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PROLOGUE ❝ONLY THE BEGINNING❞
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Beacon Hills was seemingly the perfect place to move and raise children. It was picturesque, like something one would find on the glossy side of a post card. It had good local schools that produced high academic standings as well as housing strong extracurricular, it had a low crime rate, houses were encased by white picket fences and the windows were framed with cute shutters. In short, the town was pretty much the definition of suburban. But, just like any seemingly perfect town, Beacon Hills had a secret. For behind the perfect families and fences and scholarly students, Beacon Hills had a dark underground.
In the simplest terms, the town was essentially a beacon for the supernatural. Especially werewolves.
I wish I could say that these things were only the characters in a nightmare or a tall tale, but I can't. There's no easy way to explain the things that I've seen and there's really no way to describe how much they've effected my life. My involvement with the supernatural all started the last night of winter break. It was cold and rainy and I remember wanting to have spent it reading. But, I guess I really should have considered that because I was best friends with Scott and Stiles, a peaceful night was out of the question. So instead of finishing a novel, Stiles came up with the wonderful idea of hunting down a dead body in the woods.
I was used to Stiles dragging Scott and I along on his wild adventures. I had known the boy since I was three, after a while things like dead body hunting don't really faze you. And since his father was the sheriff of the town, Stiles could pretty much listen in on all the things that happened in our little town of Beacon Hills.
So maybe the problem started when Stiles eavesdropped on the call. If he had never known, we wouldn't have ventured into the woods, and most importantly, Scott wouldn't have been bit. After that night, Scott had clearly changed. He was stronger, he was faster, his senses were heightened. And because of Stiles' vast knowledge of movie monsters and lore, we came up with the answer: Scott McCall was goddamn werewolf. At first, we tried not to assume the worst. Hell, we even thought it might be easy; just chain him up on full moons and no one gets hurt.
But when there is a sense of unknown, when there is something that could possibly harm the race of humans, there are always people to wipe out the threat. And out threat came in the shape of a single family of hunters: the Argent's. And unfortunately for Scott, his new love interest was the youngest of that family, a beautiful girl named Allison.
And through it all, with the werewolves and the forbidden Romeo and Juliet romance and the hunters and one mysterious Derek Hale who seemed to be everywhere, the original trio made it out alive. The three musketeers hadn't lost each other and we had each other's backs.
Sure, we came out a little different than we started: more cautious, more grown up, more hardened by all the death. And there was another substantial part that I may not have mentioned: I fell for Stiles and unbeknownst to me, he had already fallen back.
And we made out alive, with every limb intact. But escaping death once was a strange occurrence, for death was something that one could not evade for long. It was inevitable that eventually, someone was going to get hurt. Because I've said it before, and I'll say it again:
