𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐀'𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐑 ▸ liam dunbar [1]

14 | MIXED SIGNALS

My eyes snapped open. "Scott!" I screamed. My breathing began to speed up. I braced myself, preparing for a beserker to spring at me...

Suddenly, I looked at my surroundings. I was in a forest, in the same spot that I had passed out in. It was still dark... either I had only been out for a few hours, or I had slept all through the day.

I shook my head, getting my bearings. Shakily, I stood up, brushing myself off. I felt something heavy in my pocket... my phone. Jesus, how had it not fallen out after all this? I pulled it out, checking the date. I felt my shoulders slump in relief. Today was still today.

But what now? I didn't have any phone signal in the middle of the woods. And even if I did, it wasn't like I could just casually call Stiles: "Hey, sorry I skipped school. I'm in the middle of the woods at night, could you do me a solid and swing by?"

Despite the situation, I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. Stiles would totally flip out.

I sighed. Well, what now? It's not like I was actually paying attention to where I was running when Scott had pushed me into the woods. For all I knew, I could be back in Nevada. It was worth trying to just run in the general direction where I had come from, but what then?

Then again, it wasn't like I could camp out in the woods with nothing but the clothes on my back forever. I was seriously considering just running back to the road when suddenly, a loud, echoing wolf howl pierced through the forest. I couldn't tell exactly where it had come from, but it sounded close by. And wolves didn't roam around freely in the woods by a highway in California – there was a werewolf near by.

And it was my intention to find it.

*liam's pov*

I was beginning to give up hope.

I had lost track of how long I had been in this well, trying to escape. The water was up to the middle of my stomach, and whatever poison Garrett had stabbed me with, it was making me weaker by the hour.

Again, building up as much strength as I could muster, I grabbed one of the rocks on the wall, heaved myself up, and began to climb. Rock by rock, I slowly inched myself up the well. If I could just get to the top, I'd be free... when I was about halfway up, my knees gave way.

"No!" I yelled, desperately clinging to the rocks with my hands. My legs dangled in the air as I fought to find a ledge to put my foot on. Eventually, my weight was too great for my ten fingers to handle. They slipped from the rocks, and I went tumbling down into the well water again. I was back at square one.

I yelled in frustration, bringing my fist to the stone and smashing a hole in it. That probably wasn't the best idea, because I yelped in pain. I examined both of my hands. My fingers and palms were scraped and bloody from countless attempts of getting up that wall.