It was a quiet Sunday morning at Beacon Hills High School.
The hallways were nearly empty, no bells ringing and no classroom noise.
Scott walked slowly, as if dragging his body behind him, his heart heavy with the pressure of the past days.
Every step felt heavy, and every glance at the ceiling or the floor made him feel that the responsibility he carried was greater than ever.
He reached Coach Finstock’s office, who was sitting on the edge of his desk, his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on Scott as if he were reading every thought inside him.
“What do you mean you can’t play the game the day after tomorrow?” the coach asked in a firm voice, mixed with surprise and anger, as if the word alone was not enough to explain what had happened.
Scott stood there, hesitant, trying to find words that would explain his situation without showing weakness, but he felt that any word would seem insufficient.
“I mean… I can’t play… the day after tomorrow, coach…” he said in a low voice, trying not to sound afraid, but he felt failure touching him from every side.
The coach frowned, not hiding his surprise or annoyance.
“I can’t understand… is it because of a girl?”
Scott swallowed, feeling the question hit a sensitive spot, but he tried to control himself.
“No, it’s not that.”
“Alright… is it something with your teammates?” the coach continued, leaning slightly forward, his eyes piercing.
“No…” Scott said, trying to find a reason that sounded acceptable, but he couldn’t find the words to explain his inner fear.
The coach paused for a moment, then tried another approach.
“Is it something serious? Like drugs? Big problems that could get someone hurt?”
Scott sighed, feeling every question adding weight to his chest, but he answered honestly.
“No, it’s not something like that… I… just… have trouble sometimes controlling things when everything escalates quickly.”
The coach fell silent for a moment, then nodded, his voice more serious and steady: “Alright… that’s exactly why you play Lacrosse, McCall.”
Scott tensed at his coach’s words and sat on the chair across the desk, breathing deeply, trying to calm his racing heart.
“If I don’t play the game… will I be out of the starting lineup?”
His coach looked at him directly, his steady eyes showing impatience.
“McCall… play the game. The team needs you, and you need to take responsibility for taking out our captain team from the game.”
Scott’s heart trembled; the coach’s words were like a slap of reality.
Scott sat there for a moment, looking at the table, remembering everything that happened in the past days—every shock, every danger.
The game the day after tomorrow wasn’t just a football game, it was a real test of his abilities, his fear, his courage, and even his survival in a world that sometimes seemed merciless.
Then he sighed and said, “Okay, coach.”
He stood up and left the office.
After leaving Coach Finstock’s office, Scott wandered through the halls, his mind weighed down by the game the day after tomorrow, his anxiety growing with every step.
No one was in the halls—it was Sunday—so the echoes of his footsteps bounced off the tiled floor.
Yet everything felt loud in his head: the ticking of time, his breathing, the sound of fear.
His phone suddenly rang.
Scott looked up to see a message from his mother: “I got the day after tomorrow off! I’ll come watch you play! I’m so excited!!”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but didn’t respond yet, as his attention was drawn to movement on the stairs.
Allison was walking down calmly, her bag hanging on her shoulder, her eyes searching the empty hallways until they landed on him.
She smiled brightly at him, as if lighting up the whole place: “Hey.”
Scott gave a tense smile, his heart racing, his mind searching for words, but only managed a small murmur: “Hey.”
Allison noticed the phone in his hand, leaned slightly toward him, and asked: “Busy?”
Scott stuttered, trying to steady himself: “No… nothing. Just a message from my mom.”
Allison furrowed her brows slightly but kept a small smile, as if she understood he was hiding something.
Then she asked curiously: “Why are you here at school on a Sunday?”
Scott sighed, hesitating: “I needed to talk to the coach… about the game.”
Allison nodded, then explained her presence: “I’m here because my parents forced me into extra French classes. They think my language is getting weak because I’m not using it, even though I spent my childhood moving between different countries, and they speak English all the time. How did they expect me not to forget French?”
She complained, moving her hands in a way that showed her frustration, but her smile didn’t fade, as if she was trying to lift her own mood before speaking to Scott.
Scott smiled despite his unease: “That… sounds tough.”
Allison nodded playfully and put her bag on the ground: “Tough? Maybe, but don’t worry about me. What matters is you.”
Scott lifted his head in surprise.
He expected the conversation to be about the game, but she went straight to supporting him.
She smiled and added softly: “I’ll cheer for you with all I’ve got the day after tomorrow, no matter what happens… I won’t leave you alone.”
Scott’s heart trembled, warmth filling him slightly.
Then she added with a mysterious smile: “And I’m also excited for tomorrow night… under the stars… you know, the comet.”
Scott stiffened, a mix of surprise and embarrassment crossing his face.
“Okay… thanks, Allison.”
She smiled again and picked up her bag: “Try to relax, Scott… don’t let your fear make things bigger than they are.”
Scott smiled, about to respond—then froze.
He saw the jacket she was wearing.
It was the same jacket Derek used to lure him on the full moon night.
Scott’s eyes widened… and did not leave the jacket Allison was wearing.
It was not just an ordinary piece of clothing to him, but a bridge between the memories of that dark Friday night and the hidden danger that had been following him ever since.
The image appeared clearly in his mind: the forest, the branch, and the jacket carefully hung—Derek’s trap to lure her.
Scott’s face turned pale from shock, his jaw muscles tightened with anxiety, his eyes tracking every small movement Allison made, as if trying to read every intention hidden behind her calm smile.
“…Where did you get that?”
Scott asked in a low voice, charged with inner tension, trying to appear calm.
Allison, unaware of his inner turmoil, simply shrugged casually.
“My jacket? It was in my closet. I think Lydia brought it from the party, she has my passcode.”
Scott felt his heart pounding hard.
Every word she said was a potential key to unraveling the threads of the game Derek had started since Friday night.
His emotions collided between anger and fear, and his memory drifted back to that moment when he saw the jacket hanging on the branch, like a warning sign.
Scott said, his tone sharper this time:
“Did she say she brought it back, or did someone give it to her?”
Allison froze, her eyes widening slightly, trying to process the sudden question before asking:
“…Like who?”
Scott did not hide the concern that began to take over him:
“Like Derek?”
A slight frown appeared on Allison’s face.
She tried to resist her discomfort, but she felt something strange about the intensity in Scott’s voice.
“Derek?… You mean the creepy guy from the party? The one who drove me home after you left me there? Isn’t he your friend?”
Scott almost lost his temper when he heard that, his voice filled with urgency:
“Derek is not my friend. How much did you talk to him when he drove you home?”
Allison felt the tension in Scott’s tone rising in an unusual way, but she tried to stay calm, even as her discomfort grew:
“Hmm… not much at all.”
Scott clenched his jaw, his whole body tense, every muscle in his hands and shoulders tight, as if trying to control an internal explosion:
“What did he say to you?”
Allison, now feeling the psychological pressure from this intense interrogation, took a deep breath, placing her hand on her shoulder as if trying to ease the tension, then said in a low but firm voice:
“I have to go to class.”
Scott didn’t raise his voice, but his urgency was clear:
“Allison…”
Allison shot him a short, annoyed glance, then whispered:
“No, I really have to go…”
With those words, she walked away, her movement like a wave sweeping everything aside, leaving him standing there, his eyes following her until she disappeared around the corner, his heart pounding violently.
Scott clenched his jaw in anger.
He had ruined the good mood between him and Allison.
She was definitely upset now because of his interrogation.
Scott thought intensely, remembering everything.
The body split in half, the jacket, the forest… everything pointed to one face.
Derek Hale.
And suddenly, he decided.
He couldn’t stay silent about what he was seeing—about all those signs he had witnessed himself.
Derek… he had to go to him, see the truth with his own eyes, understand what that werewolf hiding behind a calm facade was planning.
Scott took a deep breath, turned, and walked quickly toward the school gate, his heart still burning with thoughts, every second increasing the fear and anxiety.
Everything was tangled.
Everything was pushing him toward confronting Derek directly.
[Meanwhile, with Stefan]
The air was cold, making every breath feel heavier than the last, and the sound of wind hit the worn windows as if warning of something coming.
Zach stood at the entrance, his eyes scanning every corner, every shadow, every movement, as if it were a potential threat.
His voice came out tense, filled with concern:
“What is Damon doing here? Why did he come back to the house?”
Stefan, sitting on the couch, slowly raised his head, his eyes looking away as if searching for an escape from the mix of caution and anger.
“Because I came back home. He wants to make my life miserable. That’s how he enjoys himself.”
Zach stepped closer, pressing for answers:
“Well, he’s putting all of us in danger. That girl in the hospital can talk.”
Stefan closed his eyes for a moment, his voice low but heavy with responsibility:
“She won’t. I took care of it.”
Zach stepped back slightly, placing his hands on his hips, his voice sharper:
“Are you sure?”
Stefan raised his eyebrows, ran a hand through his hair, then sighed slowly:
“I’m not sure, Zach. I don’t know how well it worked. I’m not as strong as Damon.”
Zach pressed further, his voice rising slightly:
“Then what happens if it doesn’t work?”
Stefan swallowed, raising his hand to brush a strand of hair from his face, answering in a calm but worried tone:
“I don’t know. I’ll deal with it.”
Zach stepped back, trying to process the danger:
“Is it worth all this? Uncle Stefan… this girl you came back for?”
Stefan closed his eyes again, feeling the weight of his decision to return… to Elena.
[Scott McCall’s POV]
I dropped my bike with a loud crash.
My helmet and bag fell to the ground beside it.
I shouted loudly, “Derek!” as I scanned the rundown house, my heart pounding violently.
I shouted again, “Derek!” but there was no response.
My eyes moved across every corner—the old door, the broken windows—until they stopped on a freshly dug patch of sand near the house.
A foul smell of blood rose from it, making my stomach churn, a sense of danger rising in my chest.
I turned back toward the house—only to be startled by Derek suddenly appearing at the entrance, standing there as if he were part of the shadows.
I shouted angrily:
“Stay away from her! She doesn’t know anything!”
“Oh, yeah?” Derek replied coldly as he approached with calm but threatening steps.
“What if she did?”
“Do you think your friend Stiles can just look up werewolves on Google and get all the answers?” Derek mocked.
My emotions clashed between anger and fear, but I knew he was right about some things.
“You don’t understand, Scott. I’m looking out for your safety… from many things.”
He stepped closer.
“Think about what could happen. You’re on the field, overcome by aggression… shifting in front of everyone.”
I stayed silent, a chill running through my body.
The possibility of losing control was terrifying.
Then Derek pulled out an old American football from nearby, raising it in front of my face, a cold smile forming on his lips.
His claws suddenly extended—and he crushed the ball violently, exploding it into pieces that scattered through the air with a disturbing popping sound.
“Your mom… all your friends… and when they see you…” his nails extended into sharp claws, darkness glinting in his eyes.
“Everything falls apart.”
And in a sudden movement, he vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving behind heavy silence and fear filling the place.
“Damn…” I muttered, standing there, my heart racing, my mind trying to process what just happened.
Then—
Riiiing.
I heard my phone ringing, vibrating in my pocket.
I pulled it out and looked at the message Stiles sent me.
Stiles: “Come to my house now!”
I sighed, got back on my bike, and rode toward my friend’s house.
[End of point of view].
After half an hour, Scott arrived at Stiles’ house, panting, placing his feet on the ground after he stopped the bicycle, and his hands were still holding the handlebar tightly.
The quiet house in front of him looked normal, but the emotions boiling in his chest made every corner and every window seem as if it were watching him.
Suddenly, Stiles appeared at the front door, and shouted at him in a voice full of anger and worry:
“Why are you late?!”
Scott stepped back one step, raising his hands defensively, trying to calm down before answering in a pant:
“The distance is far… and I was riding the bicycle… I tried to come quickly.”
Stiles smiled a semi-sarcastic smile, but he was still boiling with excitement.
“Where were you, Scott, huh? Where did you go to your house and I didn’t find you?”
Scott answered, “I went to Derek’s house to confront him.”
Silence fell for a little while, then Stiles shouted, “You did what?!”
Scott sighed and said, “I had to do that, Stiles, he is targeting Allison for some reason.”
Stiles looked at his friend with sharp eyes, as if he was trying to read all his inner emotions, then asked: “Okay, and didn’t you think to tell me before taking such a foolish action?!”
Scott exhaled and said, “Why did you ask me to come here, Stiles?”
Stiles’ eyes widened when he heard Scott, then cursed and grabbed Scott’s shirt and pulled him inside quickly.
“Whoa! Whoa! Calm down, Stiles!.”
Stiles pulled Scott away from the stairs, dragging him lightly but firmly, pointing to a corner of his backyard where three characters stood in a heated discussion.
Scott paused for a moment, trying to focus his gaze on the group from afar, and the dim sunset light cast long shadows on the ground, making the atmosphere charged with mystery and tension.
Stiles pointed to the three people in a low voice, but full of urgency:
“There… those three, my dad and the mayor and Deputy Sheriff Ms. Caroline.”
Scott’s eyes widened as he focused, trying to distinguish them, and all their details looked clear despite the distance.
The first was Deputy Sheriff, Elizabeth Forbes, blonde-haired, and her green eyes reflected the dim light.
Her face was beautiful, but the fine wrinkles around her eyes and mouth showed years of experience and responsibility.
She was standing steadily, talking and waving her hand sometimes, as if every movement had its own weight in the discussion.
Mayor Richard Lockwood looked strong-bodied, his brown eyes sharp, looking sharply at every movement in the place.
He wore formal clothes, and his tie was tied carefully.
His short black hair gave him a strict appearance, as if every muscle in his body was ready to move at any moment.
As for Sheriff Noah Stilinski, Stiles’ father, he had brown hair, and his blue eyes radiated strength and confidence.
His body was huge and strong, his movements calculated, each step reflecting authority and experience.
His stance between the two was enough to show his control over the discussion, but the expression on his face also suggested worry.
Stiles whispered in Scott’s ear, his voice low but clear:
“I tried spying on them many times… but I cannot hear anything because of the closed glass. And if I try to sneak… they’ll catch me immediately.”
He paused for a moment, then moved closer to Scott’s face, his eyes full of caution and urgency.
“I need you to use your super auditory senses… listen, try to eavesdrop.”
Scott looked at Stiles, who nodded to him in confirmation, then sighed and began to focus, trying to pick up their sounds through the closed glass, trying to overcome the natural barrier with all his strength and concentration.
Richard said, his brown eyes full of determination, raising his voice loudly:
“Noah, you don’t understand! We cannot impose any curfew! Tonight is the Guilty Night, the biggest annual event in the city, if we cancel it now, all preparations will collapse!”
Noah replied with deep anger, his whole body tense, as if every muscle testified to his determination:
“Richard, do you know what you are saying? You are talking about a festival while there are already three victims! And a teenage girl was attacked the day before yesterday! We cannot ignore this danger!”
Richard responded nervously but determined:
“I understand that, but a curfew now will create greater chaos. People will not be able to reach their places, and the whole festival will stop. There are thousands of people waiting for tonight!”
Noah stepped forward, his voice rising more, every word driven by anger and responsibility:
“You speak as if you are only the mayor! I am the sheriff of the entire Mystic County, not just the Mystic Hills Police! You cannot dictate to me to ignore people’s lives! I am responsible for the safety of every minor and every person in the county, not just those in the city!”
Richard laughed sarcastically, leaning toward challenge, nodding his head in astonishment:
“Noah, you are a sheriff, yes… but this is not enough to cancel an organized annual festival! I cannot let your personal government stop the entire city. You will make all people panic for no reason!”
Noah waved his arm angrily, every line of his face tense:
“For no reason?! They are three people dead! killed brutally, and an attack on a teenage girl… do you hear me? There is a wild animal, or something killing people, and you won’t impose any safety here unless we intervene!”
“Richard, Noah… we won’t reach anything if this conflict continues. We can work on a compromise. We can impose strict patrols during the night, ban approaching forests and public parks, and move the festival to the central town square. This way, we protect everyone without canceling the event entirely.”
Noah sighed slowly, his blue eyes shining with anger:
“Elizabeth… this won’t work. You can’t imagine how dangerous it is! There are thousands of people at the festival, in the streets, at the stalls, all exposed to danger! Mere patrols will not be enough if there is a rabid animal… or anything else killing people!”
Richard raised his eyebrow, smiled half-sarcastically, then replied with clear confidence, his voice piercing the cold air:
“Noah, don’t worry, I will take full responsibility. Everything falls on me, and if anything happens, I am the one who will pay the price. All I ask is that you don’t ruin the festival for the whole city out of fear.”
Noah waved his arm nervously, his face tense, every muscle line tight:
“Richard… you don’t understand! I am not here to conspire against the city or spoil the joy… but people’s lives come first!”
Elizabeth intervened again, trying to lessen the intensity of the confrontation:
“Noah, I know the magnitude of the danger, and I understand your anger… but we have a chance for balance. We can increase patrols around public places, place our men near the forests, and monitor any suspicious movements. We will not allow anyone near the parks or dangerous paths. This solution gives us protection without stopping the night entirely.”
Richard placed his hand on a small nearby table, staring at Noah with stern eyes:
“If there is something, I will be responsible. But you, Noah… you cannot control everything. You cannot prevent people from enjoying the Guilty Night.”
Noah pulled back, his body tense, pressing his mouth with his fist for a moment before whispering angrily:
“Your responsibility? Responsibility falls on all of us. And I will not let any child, any teenager, any person go out there exposed to danger! The best decision now is to impose a curfew until we catch the animal causing all this chaos.”
Richard responded sharply immediately, “No, Stilinski, this cannot happen. Tonight is the Guilty Night, a historic event for the city. We cannot cancel the festival because of an incident.”
Noah shouted angrily, his voice rising several degrees, “Incident?! Do you hear yourself?! There is a wild animal killing people! Three victims already, and a teenage girl was attacked two days ago in the middle of a school party! I will not allow putting innocent lives over the festival!.”
Richard roared and shouted, “We won’t be able to control the crowds fully. Even if we impose the curfew, we won’t guarantee everyone’s safety. It’s a tradition for decades, Stilinski!”
Noah responded firmly, “People’s safety is more important than any tradition! I cannot wait until another disaster happens, I must take action immediately!”
Elizabeth sighed and said, “Can you calm down a little, guys? No need for shouting.”
Then she looked at Noah and said, “The mayor is right, Noah, we cannot do that even if we want to, because everyone has been waiting for this night for a long time and the Guilty does not come every 145 years, Noah. Even if you impose a curfew, people will go out to see it and will not listen to us, and then we will not be able to protect anyone, so the best thing we can do is implement my suggestion now.”
Noah fell silent when he heard his friend’s words and thought for a bit, then said with a tired sigh, “Okay, Liz, we will do it your way.”
Elizabeth nodded and said with a reassuring voice to Noah, “Don’t worry, Noah, trust me.”
Noah rubbed his temples tiredly and did not respond.
“What? What are they saying?”
Stiles asked his friend insistently.
Scott looked at him and said, “They are arguing about imposing a curfew on Guilty Night.”
Stiles raised his eyebrow and said, “This will never happen, everyone is waiting for this event impatiently.”
Scott sighed and said, “I know that, but your father is convinced the festival may be dangerous because of the half-cut corpse that Derek did.”
Stiles frowned, then said, “That’s not enough to make my dad react like that. What else did they say?”
Scott hesitated a little and said, “They talked about Vicki, how she got hurt during the party, and about two corpses? What did they mean by that, Stiles? Did Derek kill other people?”
Stiles looked at his friend and said, “I don’t think Derek did that, Scott, follow me, I have something to show you.”
Stiles turned after finishing speaking and headed towards his room.
Scott frowned with slight confusion, then followed his friend.
Scott entered Stiles’ room and looked around the messy room.
Stiles was standing near the window, nervously fidgeting with the computer keys on the desk, his eyes full of anticipation.
Scott started immediately, his voice loaded with tension:
“What do you want to show me?”
Stiles said while pressing the computer keys, “The situation… worse than I expected.”
Then Stiles got up and took out a newspaper from the desk and handed it to Scott.
And he said, “Do you remember what I told you yesterday about who attacked Vicki?”
Scott raised his eyebrow and said, “Yes, you told me that Vicki told Matt that the one who attacked her was a vampire.”
Stiles nodded and said, “Okay, remember this well and read the newspaper.”
Scott opened the newspaper slowly upon hearing his friend’s words, and his eyes widened when reading the headline.
“Darren and Monica Martinez Killed Due to Animal Attack”
Stiles pointed to the torn necks of Monica and Darren and said:
“Look here. Darren and Monica Martinez… killed, according to official reports, by an animal. But, I have a strong feeling… a feeling I cannot ignore, that the same creature – or the vampire that attacked Vicki – did it.”
Stiles moved his head slowly and began to explain what he thinks.
“The pattern is similar, Scott, the method… neck attack, precision, even the timing of events… everything points to the same source.”
Scott shivered slightly, unbelieving, and said:
“Vampire?! Maybe this is just Vicki’s imagination… nothing real.”
Stiles raised his eyebrows angrily, and his angry voice filled the room:
“Ignore such information? That would be a big mistake! You cannot just close your eyes to the truth because you are scared, Scott!.”
Scott swallowed and didn’t speak.
Stiles grabbed his head and cursed angrily, waving his hands:
“My dad is looking for a rabid animal… while those bastards are free… nobody is watching them!”
Scott sighed, hesitant, his voice low:
“You cannot tell your father the truth about Derek… and we don’t know who the vampire that attacked Vicki is…”
Stiles muttered in annoyance, “If only there was a way to know vampires, like a compass, a certain device, or a smell.”
Stiles suddenly stopped, his eyes widened as he remembered something important, then said quickly to Scott:
“Wait… Scott… what did you smell from Stefan on the first day of school?”
Scott shivered slightly when he remembered the memory, then answered:
“A strong… strange smell… I could not identify it accurately.”
Stiles approached him, his eyes glowing with excitement:
“What kind of smells?”
Scott muttered while trying to remember:
“It was… like the smell of a corpse… something dead.”
A short, enthusiastic smile appeared on Stiles’ face, as if he discovered a piece of the puzzle.
“You didn’t smell a corpse… you smelled death… death from Stefan!”
Scott stared at him in astonishment, whispering:
“What does this mean?”
Stiles got up, opened his computer, and started searching in front of Scott:
“Look… Wikipedia and the internet say that the definition of vampires is that they are Reincarnated walking dead who feed on the blood of living creatures. This explains why you smelled that scent from Stefan… it is not just the smell of a corpse… but a dead life extended unnaturally.”
Scott tried shaking his head, astonished, and said:
“Do you really think Stefan is the one who attacked Vicki?”
Stiles continued in a serious tone:
“Sure about that… all attacks started after he arrived in the city… everything matches.”
Scott nodded confused and said:
“But… Stefan walks under the sun… I didn’t think vampires could do that… as the legends say.”
Stiles smiled a half-sarcastic, half-serious smile:
“Everything is not certain… Scott. You can transform into a werewolf without a full moon… unlike legends… maybe Stefan can walk under the sun too.”
Scott felt worried and asked:
“What will we do now?”
Stiles replied firmly:
“We will catch Derek and Stefan… prevent them from killing more innocents.”
Scott shivered, his voice coming out with difficulty:
“And how will we do that?”
Stiles stepped closer, his eyes full of focus:
“I don’t know how I will deal with Stefan… but if we can find the other half of the corpse, we can prove Derek’s charge, and then my dad can detain him.”
Scott shook his head in confusion:
“What does finding the other side of the corpse have to do with Derek?”
Stiles answered very calmly:
“Because Derek caused the corpse, the victim died by his hand, maybe there is evidence on the corpse that frames Derek, like fingerprints, fabric, blood, anything.”
Scott felt chills running through his body, imagining the scale of danger and awe from the truth hidden behind all this evidence.
Then he whispered, “Blood… I smelled blood!”
Stiles looked at him confused and said, “What?”
Scott continued excitedly, “I smelled the smell of rotten blood when I faced Derek in his house!”
Stiles’ eyes widened and said, “That’s it! He buried the other half near his house.!”
Scott hesitated, then said, “But what if that smell was not the corpse’s smell? What if we are wrong? How do we make sure of that?”
“Hmm, that’s a problem,” Stiles said, thinking deeply, then said, “I think we should go to the hospital morgue to check the other side then.”
Scott exhaled sharply and asked, “And why that specifically?”
Stiles answered, “Because if the half in the hospital matches the smell you smelled from Derek’s house, then we will be sure he hid the second half near his house indeed.”
Scott sighed, then said, “Okay, Stiles, shall we go now and put that idiot behind bars?”
Stiles smiled lightly and said, “I thought you’d never ask.”
Then he took his car key from his pocket and he and Scott went to the hospital.