Eye of the Hurricane ▸ Scott McCall (2)

xxxi. BREAKING POINT

xxxi. BREAKING POINT

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"I know where Stiles is!"

This was the first thing that Ella Foster exclaimed the moment she entered the Sheriff's station, the only person there being Jordan Parrish who was seated at the desk. 

After she had gotten home, she had an epiphany as to where Stiles was currently. The first part of her dream had to do with her in Eichen, that very basement, but the second part of it she was no where near Eichen. Hell, she was on the other side of town in Malia's former den.

What if the illusion of Eichen was exactly that. An illusion, a distraction to draw them all away from Stiles' true location. If he were still sleeping, he could be seeing something entirely different than what reality was. In his dream he was in Eichen; that was why Foster dreamed it and Lydia heard the whispers leading them there.

It made sense, and as time continued to slip through her fingers like water, she knew she had to get back to the station. There was no time to waste as she searched frantically for Sheriff Stilinski.

The only problem was that the Sheriff wasn't there.

Parrish looked up toward toward the frantic teenage girl in confusion, asking, "You know where Stiles is? How?"

She bit down on her lip, knowing that if she explained her reasoning to Parrish, he'd think she was crazy and probably drive her over to Eichen for the second time that night.

"I just - I just do!" she cried out, running a hand through her hair as she released a frustrated sigh. Where the hell could Sheriff Stilinski be? "I need to talk to the Sheriff, now."

Parrish was quick on his feet, coming around from the desk and approaching Foster. He watched her, her frantic movements, almost as though she was on the verge of a mental breakdown. And she was, with one of her closest friends out in the middle of the woods on one of the coldest nights of the year. It was driving her crazy.

"He's still out looking for Stiles," Parrish informed calmly, trying to remain calm in hopes that it would rub off on Foster as well. Her fingers were trembling as she spoke, Parrish knowing that getting her to clam down even slightly was one hell of a long shot. "I can call him, let him know where you think Stiles is." A look then crossed his face, Parrish inquiring, "Where do you think Stiles is?"

She sighed, knowing that she dug her grave and now it was time to lay in it. She brought this up with Parrish, she had to tell him now.

"This is going to sound crazy," she began, her words coming out in a rush, "but he's in the coyote den from a few weeks ago. The one with the coyote that killed the entire Tate family except for Malia. I swear to God that's where he is."

Parrish nodded slowly, questioning warily, "And how do you know this? Why would Stiles go to the coyote den of all places?"

Foster shot him a pleading look, one that begged him not to press any farther into this. She didn't know how to even begin to explain, and she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to.

She shook her head softly, breathing out, "You're just going to have to trust me. Just - just please call his dad and tell him to meet me there, okay?"

With that, she quickly took a turn toward the front doors of the station, the sound of Parrish's voice making her stop in her tracks."Foster!" She turned, confused. Confusion was written on her face, Parrish watching her with slight uncertainty. "You're not going alone."

He then grabbed a pair of keys to his squad car from off the table, Foster grinning as Parrish nodded toward the door, the two making their way out of the station.