"please, just let me help you"
"why should i? everyone i know either dies or thinks i'm a total freak show"
Georgia Ray is a social outcast. Nobody bothers to spare her a second glance, unless it's to roll their eyes or scoff. Living alone w...
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GEORGIA WAS RUNNING. Her toned legs, muscles ripe with an insatiable strength, carried her through the woods at a remarkable pace. She weaves between trees like a needle doing stitches.
It felt good not to be running for her life, or in a state of panic for once. This time she was choosing to do it, choosing to help Malia Tate, or at least help her father get closure.
Scott, Georgia, and Stiles went to her house to get her scent earlier in the day. Now, the sun was replaced by the moon, and the forest was blanketed by darkness.
"Killer."
Georgia grit her teeth, ignoring the sound. She focused on her senses, letting them guide her to where she needed to be. She was an alpha, she was meant to help other supernatural beings. It was in her blood now.
"Freak."
Georgia glanced over her shoulder despite herself, "Fuck off alr—" she tripped over a tree root, tumbling to the ground. She caught herself by her hands just in time.
It was safe to say she was getting sick of this shit. Georgia groaned in annoyance, running her fingers through her hair.
Scared screams gained her attention. Georgia leapt to her feet, arriving at the scene within seconds. Her brows pursed as she looked between Scott and Stiles expectantly. They were alone.
"You two good?" she asked with a hint of amusement. It wasn't hard to guess what happened. The two idiots scared each other.
"Perfect," Stiles sassed before turning to Scott, "I think I found something."
"So did I," Scott nodded, both boys heading the same way.
"Well I found a whole lotta nothing," Georgia mumbled, following them. They stopped by an opening to a cave. Right away she could feel that somebody was living in there.
"It's a coyote den," Stiles said as they all crouched down and walked in. Georgia wasn't sure why they needed to go in there, but followed.
"Werecoyote," Scott corrected, putting together the pieces.
"Awesome," Georgia whispered, glancing around from her spot beside Stiles.
"You see this?" Stiles held up a little girl's jacket, "This is Malia's. Remember, it's the same one she was wearing in the photo."
Scott started glancing between the rock walls, "We shouldn't be in here."
"Yeah, a little too late for that," Georgia remarked. She didn't like it in there. Her senses were triggered, and she could almost feel the emotions living in the den, clinging to the walls. It reeked of sorrow and self hatred above all else.
"What do you mean?"
"She's not going to come back now. We just invaded her home. Our scent's going to be everywhere," Scott explained. However, it was too late. The damage was done.
